#it got nixed by the librarian of course but i still did it

[expfcultragreen]

I dreamed my gf brought me to a morgue run by some silly guy she knew, i guess because she wanted to eat parts of the corpses, but when we got there all these formaldehyde mummies jumped up and attacked her. I took off like a shot, full bat out of hell. Did not even think of sticking around. They chased me but were far behind. I made it thru and out of the building, and outside it was brentwood elementary at night. I crossed paths with a librarian who was also on the run from the zombies. Later tho like the next day i saw my gf standing in a doorway and ran over to her, she had all these super huge tumorous growths where she'd been bitten but she seemed otherwise fine. It turned out tho that she had amnesia going back to before she came out so she thought she was a 20 year old guy and i was like...."do you still want to be married to me?" and she was like sure/of course, and held my hand, and i was so happy she was alive.

Later i dreamed that i was staying with nix in one of those victorian style townhouse punkhouses i often dream about. Various things i dont remember happened, we were in and out of bars/dead malls below the city....some guy from the community decided to do a kind of townhall event on punk masculinity and wanted me involved. So i went but while i was there my ex bf from hs had the mic and gave this impassioned multimedia presentation about how masculinity is about scratching your balls, then he brought out this tiny hologram man projected by a weird old m*a*s*h* fanseries novel, and he ranted about how china had to colonize africa because economic exploitation is how you prove youre a man or something. So then i was screaming at my ex about how finding one or more poc who've internalize white supremacist ideology doesnt make your perspective woke, and how masculinity is a concept that doesnt actually conflate neatly with cissexist codas of maleness.

Later i was taking off a tshirt from that event, somewhere that was an amalgam of places my parents have lived. I was wearing several other shirts under it but couldnt see what was on them. They were all sort of stuck together. Suddenly my dad was in the room doing something on a ladder, like i just hadnt noticed him before while i struggled with the shirt. He said something nasty and suggestive about giving me something long and hard so i said i hoped he didnt fall off the ladder, sarcastically and he changed the topic to "future lobbyists" hanging mildew traps in their townhouse windows and him having to go and take them all down. I was like, youre admitting the people youre griefing are "future lobbyists"? There was this trend of hanging small canvases of abstract colormashes from strings in ones window but the roofs all leaked and the strings would collect moisture and the canvases DID all have mildew but having them wasnt illegal and presumably having some dude show up and insist that the problem was you being too lazy to do it yourself and that he's there to perform a public service...was kind of not looked kindly upon. But i quickly moved on to trying to gather the things i needed to leave and get the bus for uni. I kept juggling phones etc, throwing pens into pockets bla bla. Then i was walking in brentwood on an overcast day and i was like wtf i dont remember walking here, i must have been fully dissociated the whole walk. Then i ran across the street to a bus stop. I waa thinking hard about whether i could put half my fare on my inactive student card and pay half in change, or, if that didnt work (why WOULD it) then basically crying to the bus driver about being confused. Then i woke up.

[rin-the-shadow]

30 Day TMNT Challenge: Day 1

I need an excuse to ramble about Turtles. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to find a challenge here on Tumblr, which I’m sure is probably more related to Tumblr’s crappy search system than anything else, but on Google I did find a picture of some prompts that seems to have come from Amino, so I’m going for it.

Day 1: Favorite Turtle

It’s Donatello, of course. Though as I’ve gotten older, Leonardo has become a close second.

Though I’ve used a picture of the 2003 series, my first exposure was actually an arcade game called Turtles in Time, and I originally played as Raphael. The girl next to me playing as Donatello absolutely hated the mechanics of the bo staff, and I was having a hard time using Raph’s sais without taking damage from being too close, so we switched and Donnie became my main ever since.

Then I got into the 2003 series on Cartoon Network. At the time, I didn’t realize they were two different adaptations, or that the cartoon I was watching was a new one. I don’t think I fully grasped the concept of series having different adaptations that weren’t in the same timeline until I was about 13 or 14. (It’s part of why I took so long to branch outside of Cybertron with Transformers, because I didn’t understand that things like Beast Wars were separate continuities and not just continuations or prequels that replaced all the characters for no reason).

But of course, even without my understanding of separate continuities, I instantly became attached to my former main. To some extent, I wonder if I would have turned out as nerdy as I did if that hadn’t happened, but I definitely already had some predisposition to get attached to the nerdy characters in a given series even before that. I went through a phase where I had to tinker with things, and I think I still have the circuitry and motherboard of an old DVD player I took apart. 

For the character of Donatello and my own nerdiness, I think it’s kind of a chicken-and-egg scenario, because I don’t think I would have been as drawn to the character if I hadn’t already shared some of his traits, but I also don’t think those shared traits would have become as pronounced as they are if he hadn’t been my favorite character.

Donnie’s enthusiasm for the stuff he built and tinkered with also proved to be a bit contagious, and the only thing I couldn’t really relate to was his general lack of artistic skill, which I attributed to lack of interest since his tech stuff took up so much of his time. But I can get that. When you have access to the thing you want to do, it’s easy to hone in on it and lose track of everything else, and since he had access to all kinds of technology, well, it’s pretty easy to see how that would end up.

Though actually, as I’ve gotten older, I can definitely appreciate that he goes ahead and draws a crappy stick figure. Some engineer-types I’ve met in real life still attempt to draw at the same level of someone with 15+ years of experience, while somehow mathematically calculating the perfect angles and shading, and just end up frustrating themselves by comparing their work to that of someone with more experience. So I definitely appreciate Donnie being like, “Well, a stick figure’s the best I can do” and then just slapping that thing down on the paper. You don’t have to be perfect, and I appreciate that he gets that.

I think his having a softer voice helped things, too. When I was younger, a lot of things sounded like shouting to me even when they weren’t, so his voice was a lot easier to handle even in scenes were he actually was shouting.

Hmm....I’m trying not to get too far into later prompts, because there are a few others that could be answered with Donatello, and which may overlap with what I might say here. But anyway...

Donnie was also one of the characters who helped me to learn to understand sarcasm. Between Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Transformers: Cybertron, I started being able to pick up on it, where before I just thought that people were being peevish and snapping at each other for no reason, and it didn’t make sense why they would say something like that and the other person wasn’t getting upset. But for Donnie (and really, Raph as well, even though his short temper sometimes made it harder to tell) it was generally pretty obvious that he didn’t mean it maliciously. At least part of this could be attributed to his voice, since the softer tone kind of blunted his sarcasm a bit, but I think in the Ninja Turtles series, there was also usually something of a change in vocal tone when they were being sarcastic which didn’t exist in some of the other series I watched, where the sarcastic voice was virtually indistinguishable from a character’s normal voice, or their behavior was consistent with it enough that I couldn’t tell they weren’t serious. The Turtles, but especially Donnie, were usually pretty obvious either in vocal tone or like, the kind of body language they were using. 

Though admittedly, as I’m rewatching the episodes, there actually is at least one Donnie moment I can think of where I didn’t understand he was being sarcastic. That one’s in “Tales of Leo,” when Donnie is telling the story of losing his car, and in the end, asks, “What, you didn’t get the car?”

I think in part because I was used to an obvious change in tone whenever Don was being sarcastic, and because of how Leo’s head turned with that expression immediately after, I didn’t realize he wasn’t being serious until I was about 18. So really, even characters I think I understand very well can trip me up at times.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Our First Defeat

Chapter 1: You’ve Cut Me to the Bone

Uh, oh- guess what time it is? That’s right chicks, dicks, and everyone in betwix(t)....

It’s ‘another series that should’ve just been a straightforward one shot’ time!!!!

This is probably going to be at least a four parter, so buckle up buttercups.

Warnings: Smut, infidelity, oral, cum play, longing, ANGST, Lewis being a shitty husband to Katherine, run-on sentences, feels, probably OOC Nixy-poo, childhood f2l mention, mentions of prom sex so underage I guess(?), potty words, rich people parties, reader is tipsy when they boink but so is Nix and it’s pre-established desire so idk man

Special thanks to @sunsetmando​ for being my constant idea sounding board and cheerleader and to @liebgotttme​ and @mrsalwayswrite​ for their unfalteringly supportive praise despite my constant self-inflicted shit talking!

Title and chapter names will come from the first defeat by noah gundereson

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Say what you wanted to about Doris and Stan Nixon, but they sure threw one hell of a party.

 Waiters in sharp suits, sparkling crystal glasses filled with golden champagne, marble floors polished to a near reflective shine- nothing but the very best for the engagement party for Mrs. Nixon’s baby boy.

If your heart hadn’t already become calloused from heartbreak, you probably would burst into tears.

You’d known the Nixons all of your life, and with Nixon being a year and a half your senior and his younger sister being three years your junior, the three of you had little choice to become anything other than close. Even when Lewis had grown old enough to get sick of girls and their games of dress up and make-believe, you and he still managed to get along.

 You were both the oldest children in your families, and for a while you had also attended the same advanced reading course offered by your private elementary school’s librarian. Your shared love of books had bonded you nearly as much as your shared birth orders, and it wasn’t uncommon for your parents to find you both nose deep in one of your father’s large tomes of mythology.

 It surprised no one that the two of you became close as you got older. 

What did strike both of your families as odd was just how close you two stayed- especially when you both started attending your respective boy’s and girl’s boarding schools. You’d been each other’s penpals, school dance dates, and summer trip companions.

 After your Junior prom, you’d lost your virginities to each other after polishing off two bottles of lethally strong port wine. Nixon, sex-drunk and just plain old drunk-drunk, had insisted that he’d done ‘other things’ with girls- that he wasn’t really a virgin but he’d yet to actually do the act. 

As if he was worried that you’d make fun of him.

 As if you’d think less of him for it.

 Of course, things had changed once college came around.

He became busy with his studies, and you had thrown yourself into attaining your nursing credentials. He’d gotten a fair share of girlfriends and you’d had a few relationships of your own.

 When your families would get together for holidays and birthdays, the two of you would inevitably sneak off and fuck until one of you decided that someone was going to notice your absences.

 Then, after rejoining everyone else for an appropriately deemed amount of time, you’d rush off again to repeat the cycle. Sex with Lewis was everything you’d been told you shouldn't want- hard and desperate and just left of dirty but God did you love it. You loved the way your bodies fit together, the way his breath felt on your neck as he held onto you so tightly that you thought he might leave bruises. The way he kissed you as if he were drinking the air from your lungs, like he needed your lips in order to breathe, to live.

 More than anything, you loved the ease that existed between you two- the way you both helped the other redress and how he would take your face in his hands and call you sweet things as he gave you languid kisses before giving you a wicked grin and guiding you both back to the party.

 It wasn’t ideal, and more often than not you’d feel hollow again after a few days, but your trysts with Lew were the closest thing you had to a consistent relationship.

 When Pearl Harbor happened, you’d made the decision to enlist as a field nurse. Nixon had begun to attend an Officer’s school, so you’d already started to resign yourself to the fact that this fling of yours could never be anything more than just that, a fling. Apparently he had, too.

 You’d felt like you had been punched in the stomach when you heard about Katherine.

 He hadn’t even told you that he was seriously seeing someone, let alone considering marrying anyone.

It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

How you managed to keep a straight face when his mother proudly told you and your mother about the engagement, you’ll never know.

 All you did know was that he’d made a choice, and it wasn’t you.

And you had to get over it.

 Even so, it had still taken both your mother and your father to convince you to come to this party tonight. Your brother and sister had been allowed to stay home- they were still considered too young to attend such frivolous events. 

Lucky bastards.

 But you’d let your mother dress you in a velvet gown of indigo-violet decorated with rhinestones across the bodice and sleeves, allowed your younger sister to braid your hair in a halo around your head (despite your mother’s plea for you to wear it in a more fashionable and mature style) and even gotten a grumble of a compliment from your sulking teenage brother and greeted the Nixon’s with the same amount of warmth you always had.

 If nothing else, finishing school had taught you well when it came to hiding your true feelings.

 Katherine was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, her hair shiny and her skin perfect and her body curvy and tight in all the right places. Her sky blue dress draped across her form perfectly, as if it had been made for her.

Her hands were graceful and delicate- the perfect canvas for the huge diamond ring Nix had bestowed upon her.

 To make matters worse? You liked her.

She was smart and well-spoken, with a habit of interrupting someone mid-sentence but that wasn’t enough to make you dislike her.

 “Lew’s sung your praises for years,” Katherine had smiled smally after you’d introduced yourself to her. “it’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name….”

“It’s all lies, most likely,” you assured with a grin, a sudden realization hitting you. “Speaking of Little Lew—”

Katherine rolls her eyes and offers a conspiratory whisper.

“Pretty sure he’s stress smoking somewhere upstairs. I’ve been trying to get him to quit—”

You snort at that. “Then you are far braver than most, and you have my respect.”

 You look over your shoulder, frowning as you took in the scene.

Turning back to Katherine, you give her a nod.

“I’ll hurry him along,” you murmur softly. “Drag him down by the ear if I’ve got to—”

“Consider my respect earned in kind, then.”

Sharing a smile, you politely excuse yourself and slip away up the stairs.

 You had a feeling that you knew exactly where Nix was hiding.

~

The formal library was dark wood and warm leather, with deep seats and cigar smoke stained books that sat on shelves so high that even the tallest man needed to utilize the built-in ladder to reach the top.

As children, you and Lewis had spent countless hours reading of far-away lands and exotic adventures, darting back and forth between whatever book you’d decided on and the grand globe by the window to trace your fingers over countries neither of you would probably ever actually visit.

This room held your sweetest memories, as well as some of your racier ones.

 Finding Lewis in here was only fitting.

 He looked unbearably handsome- sat on the windowsill with the wind fluttering his hair across his forehead while the moon lit up his profile and made him look like some exquisite marble statue.

The cigarette between his lips reminded you of all the times he’d smoke after fucking you, the way he’d exhale the smoke into your parted lips before kissing you so deeply your toes would curl.

 “I could get used to this,” he’d said, after one of your last trysts.

“What, smoking yourself to death in your dad’s library?”

He’d shot you a glare before attacking your neck with kisses that left you giggling from how they tickled your skin.

“No, Smartass,” Lewis said as he nudged your nose with his, a lazy smile clear on his face when he lifted his head away from you enough to meet your eyes. “This, with you. Not having to rush off before your mom comes looking for you. It’s nice….”

 That felt like a lifetime ago.

 “If you frown at the moon any longer,” you call out, smirking at the way he startles before realizing it’s just you. “You’re gonna get a wrinkle before all the wedding photos.”

 He shoots you a look, shaking his head before turning to stub out the cigarette in the silver ashtray.

“Not even gonna lull me into a false sense of security before giving me shit, huh?”

With a practiced ease, he gently slides the window back into place and locks it, fanning the lingering wafts of smoke from around his face before turning to fully face you.

 A familiar smile crosses his face that has you rolling your eyes.

“Well, I’ve gotta get all I can out of my system- now that you’ve gone and replaced me.”

 With another withering look, Lew comes up and kisses your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another around your waist to lower you into a dipped hug.

 “Hey now,” he grumbles into the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your neck and causing you to shiver. “I think you’re underestimating your talents if you think anyone can fling smartass comments my way better than you- oh!”

 Twisting you back up so you’re both standing, he pushes the door to the library closed to get to the bookshelf behind it. 

 With curiosity, you watch him pull a book from the shelf and present it to you with a flourish.

“A gift for you, my lady.”

 Rolling your eyes, you take the book in your hands and peer at the cover.

 You recognize the title immediately as a Poirot mystery, a grin breaking across your lips as you realize it’s one of your favorites- a collection of short stories featuring the Belgian detective and Captain Hastings.

 As you open the book, you suck in a breath when you see the scrawl of Agatha Christie’s signature across the title page, and upon further inspection, you realize it’s a first edition.

 “Holy shit, Lew…” you whisper, running your fingertip across the indents in the paper her heavy-handed scrawl. “Where’d this come from? How’d you know….?”

 Looking up at Lewis again, you are slightly embarrassed by the amused expression on his face, deciding to look back down rather than acknowledge how clearly he was watching your reaction.

 “Well,” he begins, stepping behind you to squeeze your shoulders. “It came from a bookshop, believe it or not—”

 “Lewis—”

 “And as for the how….Blanche told me in one of her letters.”

 That gives you pause again- the reminder that you and he hadn’t written anything to each other in quite some time.

 Clearing your throat, you set the book down on one of the desks and bring a hand up to rest over one of his. “That’s very…..thank you.”

 You feel him press a quick peck to the crown on your head, something you were fine with until you left the pressure of his lips lingering there.

 “I hope, uh…hoped you’d also take it as a sort of, er- peace offering, of sorts….”

 You feel your shoulders tense at that. The blood in your veins suddenly feels cold and dead.

You’d hoped he wouldn’t do anything like this- wouldn’t bring any of this up.

 “I’m sure I don't know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do.”

 Sucking in a sharp breath through your nose, you turn around to face him. 

 “There’s nothing to offer peace for,” it’s taking more effort than you like to keep your voice even. “What you do with your life is none of my business.”

 “It doesn’t change the fact that you should’ve heard about it from me,” he says quietly, and as his breath fans across your face you can pick up the sweet bite of whiskey beneath the smell of cigarette smoke. “That was….I should’ve been the one to tell you—”

 “I don’t see why you felt you had to.” You give him a tight smile, working hard to keep yourself from scowling. “It’s not like we made any promises to each other….which I thought was the whole appeal of me, if I’m being honest.”

 Lewis brings his hands up to brush against your jaw, the unexpectedly soft touch making you shudder before you can stop yourself

 “You’ve got to have known that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N—”

 “Don’t say that,” you hiss under your breath, biting the insides of your lip and shaking your head. “That’s unfair, you can’t do this- it’s wildly unfair to Katherine, it’s not fair to me—”

 Lewis scoffed at that, a rueful smirk twisting his face as he let his eyes trail down your face.

 “‘Unfair’....what’s unfair is asking me to go down there and pretend like everything’s hunky-dory when you’re here, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted in my goddamned life and expecting me to act like I wasn’t wishing you were on my arm instead—”

 “Jesus Christ, Lewis, that’s enough—” you cross your arms across your chest as you step back out of his touch and turn to look at the wall of books. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve always known you could be an asshole, but this is cruel, even for you—”

 “How am I being an asshole?” he snaps, taking your shoulders and turning you back to face him, his frown deep and imploring. “Because I’m being honest? Huh? ‘Cause I’m telling you the truth—?”

 “Because you’re telling me the truth now!” you say venomously, letting your own face morph into a scowl. “Tonight, the fucking night where we’re all here to celebrate you and Katherine getting married! You can’t just expect me to not respect that—”

 “What if I told you I didn’t even want to marry her—?”

“Lower your voice!”

 You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten to each other until you accidentally scuff your toes against the side of his polished shoe, something that shocks you out of your anger like a cold splash of water.

 His cheeks are rosy with both drink and frustration, and you’re pretty sure that your face is flushed as well. Closing your eyes, you sigh and hang your head.

 “If you didn’t want this,” you say a bit more calmly. “Then why did you ask her in the first place?”

 You startle slightly at the feeling of him taking your hand, opening your eyes to watch him bring it to his clean-shaven cheek and hold it there. His eyes look tired, sad almost.

 “Because I’m being shipped out soon,” he sighs heavily, twisting his head enough to press a kiss to your palm as the air whooshes out of your lungs in a pained sigh. “Because it’s what’s expected of me.”

Meeting your hesitant gaze, he offers a sad little smile and a shrug.

“Because it couldn’t be you, I didn’t really care who it was—” 

 Quickly, you take back control of the hand he’s holding and put your fingertips gently over his lips, your throat feeling tight at the admission.

“Don’t,” you whisper shakily. “Don’t finish that sentence….”

 Taking your hand again, he moves it away from his mouth.

 “Why not?” he says back just as quietly, eyes scanning your face. “Am I being an asshole?”

 You shake your head, chest tightening as you take in his confession. “You’re breaking my heart all over again.”

 He nods, his jaw clenching as he studies you. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”

 When you don’t show any sign of amusement at his comment, he encourages you to wrap an arm around his neck as he pulls you into another borderline inappropriate embrace. A hug that was better suited for two lovers rather than two friends grieving a future that was entirely hypothetical.

 His lips press to the side of your throat, inhaling the smell of your skin deeply and slowly.

“I don’t mean to,” he whispers, splaying his large hand across the small of your back. “I really want you to know that.”

 You stay silent, focusing all of your energy into not crying.

 Even if he had asked you to marry him, you would’ve had to say no.

Married women were unwelcome in all branches of military nursing- and you had worked too hard to ever consider giving that dream up.

Not even for Lewis Nixon….although you probably would’ve thought about it harder.

 “I sometimes wish we’d never kissed,” you say with emotion in your voice, letting him hold you even closer at your hushed admission. “I wish I didn’t care about you, then we wouldn’t have to be like this…”

 “I don’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I wouldn’t take any of this back- even if I could.”

 You shake your head sadly as you bring your other arm around his shoulders to more fully embrace him.

“That’s because you’re a masochist almost as much as you are a sadist—”

 He groans at that, taking his face from your neck to press his cheek against yours.

“I knew getting you those Freud books was a mistake….”

 This time you allow yourself to sigh a laugh. “Only because they seem to hit the nail on the head when it comes to explaining why you are how you are.”

 “An asshole?”

 “Yeah, Lew.” you gently break free of his embrace and smooth your hands down the front of his tuxedo- straightening his bowtie on the way. “Now you’re getting it.”

 He looks as if he’s going to say something else, but you force a smile on your face and shake your head.

“C’mon, Mr. Nixon,” you say with a nod. “Your public awaits you. Best not keep them waiting.”

 “Y/N—” He calls as you turn on your heel and walk to open the door.

 “I’ll see you down there, Lewis.”

 With that admonishing reminder, you open the door and hurry to find the restroom in order to collect yourself.

Dinner was going to be hell.

~

Of course, Doris sat you beside where Lewis was seated in the middle of the table- Katherine on his left and you on his right.

 “Surrounded by his favorite girls,” Mrs. Nixon had cooed, standing behind Lewis’s chair and squeezing his shoulders excitedly. “What a lucky man you are….”

 They had only just served the soup and already you wanted to crawl out of your skin.

The only things that saved you were wine and the endless stream of one-sided conversation from Katherine’s young cousin Marcus, who sat to your right.

 He couldn’t have been more than sixteen- eyes wide and battle-hungry as he prattled on about the training courses he planned on enrolling in so that he could go to Japan and take revenge for the lives lost during Pearl Harbor. It served as a good distraction from the feeling of Lew’s eyes on your profile, silently begging you to turn and look at him.

 You didn’t give in.

 Marcus’s heart was in the right place, and it wasn’t his fault that you were trying to drown your distress in the sea of white wine you were creating inside of your belly. 

But you had the feeling that if you had to listen to any more talk of what his brother had told him about the Navy and how prestigious their ships were, you were going to smack your head against the table until you passed out.

 The only person who seemed to pick up on your distress was Lewis, and right now you were pretty committed to ignoring his attempts of conversation- hoping that by doing so you were strong-arming him into actually talking to Katherine, who was being so charming and well mannered that you felt like you were suffocating.

 As you brought your fourth glass of wine to your lips, Lew decided to speak rather than just look.

 “Think maybe you should slow down, Y/N?” Lewis says it quietly enough that only you and Katherine can hear him, and when you turn to face him you catch the sight of the other woman suppressing a chuckle into her glass of sparkling water. 

A drop of resentment stains your previously high regard for her- her slight amusement being amplified to condescension in your current bitter state.

 “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Little Lewie,” you say with a light slur in your voice- one that only those who truly knew you would be able to detect. 

As a child, you’d had a slight speech impediment that you’d grown out of with proper training and practice. It was only when you were overly tired or when you drank that it slipped back into your speech.

You could feel that now, its presence heavy on your tongue.

“Just gettin’ it outta my system while I’ve still got the chance……”

 When you're able to find his eyes with your own, you see the concern shining in them and suddenly feel like you want to cry. 

 You can’t help but think that this could’ve been yours- your engagement party, your future.

You’d say that the ring on Katherine’s finger could’ve been yours as well, but if you were being honest you found it too gaudy and flashy for your taste.

Lewis probably would’ve known that, too….would’ve chosen something significantly smaller and much more simple to present to you while down on one knee.

 But he’s not mine, should’ve stopped thinking of him as mine a long time ago.

 Without another word to him you slid your chair back from the table and stood, nodding appreciatively to the butler who instantly appeared to scoot the chair back into place.

Your mother, who was sitting closer to the door, gave you a worried look as you made to walk past her, silently asking if you were alright.

 With a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gently placed your hand on her shoulder in false reassurement that you were just fine. You mouth the word ‘bathroom’, as you passed her and exited the dining room.

 How you managed not to run up the staircase in search of somewhere you could let your mask of contentment fall away, you have no idea.

But you did. Your finishing school teachers would’ve been proud.

 Rushing through the library you knew better than the back of your hand, you quickly found the small, slightly hidden room behind a sculpture that held all the wealth of paper and writing supplies.

 The door barely shuts behind you before you suck in a shaking breath, face hot with tears you were refusing to shed. Each exhale sounds as if it’s being punched out of you, hands reaching out into the dark to feel for the wall so you can find the small footstool to sit upon.

 You were right, you couldn’t do this.

 It was too much, despite how desperately you’d tried to callous over the raw part of your heart that still ached for him. Resting your head in your hands, you try to slow your breathing, to muffle to sobs begging to be freed from your chest.

 The sound of the door clicking open has you shooting to your feet in surprise, the wine in your blood making itself known as you teeter slightly and you have to brace your hand against the wall to steady yourself.

The snap of the light being turned on makes you squint at the sudden brightness, the sight of Lewis breathing heavily as he leans against the door to close it behind him making your heart race even faster.

 “You shouldn’t-” you have to sniff quickly before finishing your admonishment. “You really shouldn’t be here, Lewis.” 

 He nods, his Adam's apple jumping in his throat as he swallows, eyes trailing up and down your body. “I know.”

Even as he says it, Lewis starts walking towards you. “I should go….”

 Your own breathing has become deep and heavy, lips parted to accommodate the sudden desperate need for more air in your lungs.

Mind having failed you, you search for the right words to send him away- to tell him that what’s about to happen is wrong and that you’re just making it harder on yourselves in the long run.

But all you can think as he reaches you, his hands coming up to hold your face with an unmistaken intention, is that you are going to explode if he doesn’t kiss you right now.

 Lucky for you, his thoughts seem to be similarly inclined.

 He kisses you so hard that you think your lips will bruise, his hands pulling your face so desperately close that his eyelashes tickle your cheeks as his eyes squeeze shut.

As you moan somewhere deep in your throat, Lewis opens his mouth to swallow the sound. His hair is soft in your hands, your fingers fisting and pulling at it until he makes a groan of his own.

 You allow yourself to rise up on your toes to make his head tilt back slightly, gasping into his lips when he suddenly uses his grip on your face to pull your mouth back from his.

He licks his bottom lip, whispering your name so you open your eyes and look at him with a heavy-lidded gaze.

 “I-I don’t want to go without one more….” he seems to be at a loss for words, which for Lewis Nixon is truly unusual. But you think you can read his frustrated silence.

Your eyes search his dark ones, uncurling your fists from his roots to bring your thumbs to his forehead and smooth the concerned furrow in his brow.

 “Okay,” you whisper, coming down off of your toes to brush your nose against his. “Then do it.”

 As if your words were a racing gun’s shot, Lewis hungrily kisses you again- backing you up against the wall and clutching at you with carnal desperation.

You lose yourself in his fervor, scratching your nails down the back of his neck just shy of leaving a mark and moving to loosen his bowtie.

 He catches your hands and pins them beside your head, squeezing them in a silent request to keep them there. You nod into the kiss, gasping for breath when he tears his mouth from yours and drops to his knees before you.

Looking down your body at him, you pant lewdly as you watch his hands disappear beneath the skirt of your dress and hurriedly pull your underpants down around your ankles. 

 The only patience he shows is in his careful assistance of helping your step out of them, but then he is immediately returning to his pilgrimage to the warm place between your thighs- bunching the deep violet-blue fabric in one fist while his other hand encourages your thigh up and over his shoulder.

He kisses you down there just as thoroughly as he had your mouth, licking the hot petals greedily to part the way to your clit before attacking it noisily and skillfully. Your head makes a dull sound as it lolls back to hit the wall, your hips surging forward at the gentle and unintentional scrape of his teeth against the soft flesh.

In an apologetic motion, the hand holding your dress beside your waist rubbing its thumb soothingly across your side. 

You allow one of your hands to drop from beside your head to rest over his, your sigh of forgiveness getting lost in a breathy keen of pleasure.

 “Shit,” you sigh, bowing your head forward to watch him look up at you from between your legs. “Jesus Christ, Lewis!”

 Rather than take his mouth from you to reply, he elects to moan into your sex, the vibration striking somewhere deep inside of you that has your thighs quaking. Your eyes drift closed as he continues to suckle on you, the sound of him inhaling sharply through his nose making you feel dizzy with heady desire.

It had been almost a year since he’d last gone down on you- only because that was the last time you were afforded enough time for such foreplay. 

 And he’d only gotten better at it.

 With careful yet distracted motions, he maneuvers the hand covering his so you are now holding your skirt up and out of the way for him. You open your eyes at the same moment you feel his fingers curl inside of you, an airy mewl slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

 “I’m gonna cum,” you mumble stupidly down at him, finally bringing your other hand down to fist in his hair again as you begin to see the white-hot orgasm creeping into the sides of your vision. “Too soon….I’m sorry, it’s too soon—!”

 His intentional humming around your bud paired with the cruelly perfect crook of his fingers sends your careening over the precipice of pleasure.

Your body shakes and your hips buck uncontrollably as he refuses to relent his near fervent milking of your orgasm.

 You keep expecting him to stop, to pull away from you and start to seek his own release. 

But he just doesn’t stop.

 “What’re you doing?” you ask brokenly, keening into another moan as he slips one more finger inside of you. “Get up here and—ohhh!”

 “Again, “ you hear him grunt into you with a near frantic tone. “Give me one more….”

 You’re absolutely lost as he ushers you into another orgasm, mouth feeling dry from the open mouth panting you’ve had to resort to in order to remain lucid.

 “I need you,” you whimper pathetically, your eyes open and unseeing as you gasp for breath in a vain attempt at cooling the fire burning in your body. “Please, I need you inside me….please, Lewis!”

 It feels like he’s only just unsealed his lips from your sex when suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and his hand is cupped around the back of your head, kissing you languidly as your thrumming ears pick up on the soft sounds of fabric being untucked and trousers being shoved open and down.

 Before you can manage to find the coordination to bring your hands down to help him free his cock, you feel him bringing the same thigh that had been over his shoulder up to hook around his hip.

 With a familiarity that aches in both your heart and your core, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and nod into the kiss, just as you had that first time in your dorm room after the night of your Junior prom.

After one more soft peck, Lewis sheaths himself fully inside of you.

 Your face twists at the abrupt fullness that stretches your sex to the sweet-stinging point that you ache for more often than you liked to admit, eyes flashing open in euphoric alarm as the man you’d loved since you were fifteen fucked into you with a punishing pace.

 Apparently, he was just as desperate for you as you had been for him.

 It’s now he who is making desperate noises that have to be muffled, his face buried into the slope where your shoulder meets your neck. 

At some point, he’s managed to undo the button at the top of the back of your dress, nosing the fabric around your collarbones open so he can latch his lips to the flesh at the curve of your shoulder- worrying at the skin with tongue, teeth, and lips.

 If you were in a teasing mood, you’d accuse him of having an oral fixation. 

Lewis would make another comment about how much he regretted giving you the books by Sigmund Freud. 

You’d try to offer some witty retort, only to be cut off by him pinching at your clit and biting at your lip.

 It was so easy, everything with him just felt so good and comfortable and warmly familiar.

 As if he can hear your thoughts, he presses his temple to yours so his lips are at your ear.

 “It should be you,” he nearly whines. “I’ve only ever wanted you—”

 The sob that bursts past your lips is so bitter and childish that even Lewis seems to notice through his haze, pulling his head back in time to catch sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

 “I’m sorry,” he grunts as he kisses the tears off of your skin. “I love you and I’m sorry.”

 Just as your first moan had been, your first deep sob is captured by his mouth. Your lips are salty and you can feel from his shaking lips that he’s struggling to keep his own upset at bay.

 The hand that was holding your thigh wraps around it to press a thumb against your clit, and you can’t stop the stream of babbling that follows the movement.

 You can’t shut up about how much you love him and how angry you are with him and how badly you wished things were different.

 “I know,” he mumbles to each admonishment and devotion you utter, his voice becoming tight as you intentionally squeeze down on him with everything that you’d got. “I know, I know, Please love me anyway, I know.”

 It’s the sound of Lewis coming undone that sends you into your second orgasm, holding on for dear life as he brokenly thrusts into you a few more times before yanking himself away to spill himself onto the wall beside you- bracing his arm there as you blindly reach down to stroke him as well.

 You both stand there, breathing as if you’d both just sprinted across the fields behind his house.

 Using the wall as a support, you turn to face him and press your forehead to his sweaty temple, the hand of the arm against the wall moving to rest atop your head as he shudders and stills in your hand.

“Good,” you breathlessly praise him as you gently release his cock. “So fucking good….”

 As you bring your hand to your mouth to suck it clean, Lewis curses lowly as his eyes follow the movement, like you’ve hurt him somehow.

Before you can reach your hand down to get more, Nix grabs your wrist and holds it in the air.

 “Don’t you dare,” he whooshes out with an exhale, turning his head to kiss you deeply enough that you know he can taste himself. “I’m gonna fucking cum again if you do shit like that…”

 You give him a small smile, pecking a quicker kiss on his lips.

“Didn’t think you’d be open to letting me lick it from you directly.”

 His wicked smile is lazy, wrapping his arm around your waist as you make to push yourself away and twisting your bodies so he’s now the one leaning against the wall with you pressed against him.

 ‘Not yet,” he pleads into the crook of your neck. “Please, not just yet.”

 And, because you’re a terrible and weak person, you stay.

 When his fingers start to undo the buttons holding your dress together in the back, you shake your head.

 “One more,” he murmurs as your dress starts to fall loose around your shoulders. “Just once more….”

 Despite knowing how much you’re going to hate yourself for doing so, you nod and lower your arms so your dress pools around your feet.

 “Okay,” you whisper. “Just once more.” ~ ~ ~ (HELLO I LOVE YOU AND SORRY FOR ANOTHER SERIES WHEN I HAVE ONLY EVER ACTUALLY FINISHED ONE BUT THIS IS WHO I AM AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT THEN I AGREE WITH YOU, TBH)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

also let me know if you want to be added to le taglist bc i am a silly lily who will forget unless i’m constantly reminded

also also here’s the dress i used for reference bc what are outfits

[cajunroe]

webgott + bartender/patron!au (+ bartender!lieb + bar critic!web) ↳ as a well-respected bar critic, david webster has had his fair share of bar culture. from dive bars to upscale, from bar fights to cocaine in the bathrooms, from shitty bartenders to watered down drinks. so when a new bar opens up down the street from him and has high praise from it’s grand opening, web decides he has to check it out. his first choice, of course, wasn’t to critique bars. he’s always wanted to write and when he hit writer’s block on his book, he needed a way to make money. turns out he has a knack for it. a little aesthetic here, a little exclusivity there and before he knew it, people were hanging on his every word for the newest watering hole to try. he doesn’t have a calling card or anything else other critics abide by, just a notebook and a pen to write down thoughts and high or low points. he walks into the new bar and immediately he likes it. it has the old school southern charm that web loves. he takes a spot at the end of the bar, it’s a relatively busy night and he wants to test how attentive the bartenders are to all patrons. he’s pleasantly surprised when he’s served within five minutes, the man behind the bar working faster than should be possible. web finds himself watching the man more than taking notes and before he knows it it’s last call and another drink, one he didn’t order is placed in front of him. the bartender is wiping down his station, watching web as he takes the first sip. web is in love. he doesn’t know what’s in the drink, but he doesn’t care because it’s the best drink he’s ever had. he looks around and notices the bar is almost empty and he has nothing to show for the night, just a short conversation with the bartender after web is halfway finished with his drink then someone sits beside him, the bartender, and grabs his notebook before he can react. web tries to wrangle it from the guy but the man is laughing and holding high. and web is both pissed off and a little tipsy. as he starts to fall off of his stool, the bartender catches him around the waist. something about this place, this bar , this man makes web feel something he’s never felt before. it scares him and he’s out of the bar before he knows it. notebook forgotten and the man still on his mind.  

it’d been three days since web went to the bar and he really needed his notebook back. a lot of his contacts were in there, no name of course, but still. he need to keep his work confidential. he groans and slams his head against his desk. then he thought back to three nights ago when something changed as his eyes met the bartenders and their bodies aligned perfectly.

“you know we called last called like forty-five minutes ago?”

web smiled, “yes and someone put a drink in front of me five minutes ago.”

the bartender smiled and shrugged, “i can’t resist a pretty face.”

web didn’t dignify with that a response, mostly because he wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

web focused on finishing his drink and didn’t noticed when the bartender moved around the bar to sit by him.

“what’s this we have here?” the man had grabbed web’s notebook before he could get it. 

web fought for control but by the man’s laugh, he clearly had read web’s thoughts about him. specifically his body and hair and eyes.

web started to slide off his stool and the man stopped struggling and grab web around his waist, holding him up and against his own body. 

“if you wanted to be wrapped in my arms, all you had to do was ask.”

web, shocked, looked into the man’s eyes and felt something shift in himself and noticed something shift in the man against him as well. 

web pushed away and was out of the door before he could do something foolish.

the feeling he had when he was against the bartender was unlike anything he’d experienced before,  and the thought of it being what he thought is was, scared him. 

so three days later and he really has to put something out because people are demanding something from him about the new bar. 

he doesn’t want to go back, but he needs his notebook to contact jones about the wine tasting weekend at the end of this week. 

so he decides to see if he can get the bartender to meet him on his turf.

hairoftheshark post #501 

re: bar demands

okay drunkards,

i’ve received many, many demands to review the new bar downtown. i did go there a couple of night ago and was willing to write a review. however, the bartender stole my notebook with all of my comments. i know it hasn’t been too long, but there were other things in there. if any of you go there tonight, tell him to meet me at the library on 6th at 11. none of you know what i look like, so don’t try to find me. i will beat the shit out of you. thank you. now go get drunk.

- web

he hit post before he could chicken out. he had some research he wanted to do anyway, so now was as good a time as any.

joe was pissed. he’s had, at least ten different people tell him to take the notebook to the library on 6th at eleven tonight. 

if the guy wanted the notebook so bad, he could fucking come and get it. nevermind the fact that joe couldn’t get the damn guy out of his mind. those fucking eye and hair made joe angry in their beauty. 

“fuck!” he slammed his hands down on the bar. the funny thing was that most people just thought he was the bartender, not the owner. and that how he wanted it. he got into this to make drinks and talk to people. he enjoyed the creative process and socializing. and he didn’t want to lose that. 

“tab! cover for me. i gotta go.” 

tab smiled, devious and wide.

“got get ‘em boss.”

then the asshole rang the tip bell loud and long as joe grabbed the notebook and ran out the bar. 

he checked his watch: 10:45

“shit!” joe ran to his car. 

and as he sped down the street he swore, “you better fucking be there asshole.”

web checked the time on his laptop: 10:58.

guess he’s not showing.

web packed up his bag and started walking out, “bye blithe! i organized the marin section for you!”

the blonde librarian looked up with a small smile, “thanks david. see you soon!”

web was checking his phone, notifications lighting up on his post from people who said they loved the bar, told the bartender to come, and wishes of good luck.

he was smiling at a particular comment when he crashes into someone.

he expected to fall on the concrete but strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him back up.

“you keep doing this and i’m gonna have to start thinking you’re doing it on purpose.”

web flushed at the close contact, deep voice, and warm body pressed against him.

“maybe you should stop running into me.”

joe scoffed and let web go. web instantly missed the contact and pulled his jacket tighter.

“right, ‘cause it’s my fault?!” joe snapped.

web smiled inwardly, “well you did steal my notebook.”

joe threw his arms out, “steal?! STEAL?! i didn’t steal shit. you left it there.”

web crossed his arms, “left? you took it from my hands!”

joe matched web’s stance, “and you left!”

for some reason both men heard and unspoken ‘me’ at the end of the sentence.

web sighed, “can i please have it back?”

joe smiled and bit his lip and web swallowed hard.

“sure, david.”

web groaned, “just give it back, whatever your name is.”

joe took a step closer to web, “it’s joe. joseph liebgott.”

web looked down at joe, their eyes connecting, charge.

“n-nice to meet you joe.”

“you too, web.”

their eyes stayed connected, neither moving or daring to break it. 

of course, web’s phone choosed then to ring.

he muttered under his breath, “it better be fucking good.”

he answer, not moving an inch away from joe.

“webster.”

jones started talking on the other line telling him he had to bring another person to the wine tasting or he couldn’t go.

“another person?! where the hell am i going to fin-” then web looked at joe who was looking at him.

“yeah jones, i got it. tell ron i’ll be there.”

web smiled at joe, “do you like wine?”

joe’s face scrunch and web did not swoon because it was cute.

“i can, why?”

“do you want to go to wine tasting weekend with me? all expenses paid?”

joe laughed loudly and web smiled at the sound, “hell of a first date.”

if web didn’t want it so bad, he would’ve denied it. but the recklessness in him took the forefront, “go big or go home, right?”

joe smiled and place his hands on web’s chest.

“sounds great web,” joe pushed the notebook into web’s chest and web grabbed along with joe’s hands.

web didn’t care if it was desperate, he could spend three days with this man before knowing how his lips felt.

he pressed them softly against joe’s and smiles when joe instantly deepens it.

they eventually pull apart to breathe and web placed his forehead against joe’s.

joe pulls one hand away from web’s grip and slaps his arm.

“we coulda been doin’ this for four days web. fuck.”

web laughs and kiss joe again.

the weekend goes off without a hitch.

web introduces joe to a lot of different people who could help his bar.

which, on the drive there, web nearly crashes the car when joe tells him.

he introduces him to his friends, ron and lip who own the winery, dick and nix the best distributors in the state, and luz and toye the best marketing team this side of the mississippi. 

and they all love joe, especially luz and toye.

and web is surprised how easily joe fit into his life. and his friends. it felt like this was just another weekend, like they’ve been doing this for years.

ron is talking beside web before he can even notice him, and luckily web’s known him long enough to not be surprised by it. 

“so when did you to get together.”

web deadpan replies, “two days ago.”

ron’s silence means he want an explanation.

so web turns to him and his back to joe, hoping he doesn’t hear and over the loud conversation at the table, he doubts he will.

and web tells ron everything. and tells him how weird it is the joe makes him feel so whole and like he’s always meant to be in web’s life, they just had to find each other. and how he’s scared that he’ll scared joe off because web’s always been a kind of intense person when it comes to relationships and feelings.

ron had been trying to interrupt, cut web off, but web, as always, kept talking and he didn’t realize it was too late until ron literally slapped a hand over his mouth.

muffled by the hand, web said, “he’s right behind me isn’t he?”

web closed his eyes to brace himself for joe’s reaction and was completely floored when he saw joe smiling smugly.

“this is the second time you’ve told something or someone else how you feel about me, rather than tell me yourself.”

web was confused, “wait you’re not scared? like i never believed stuff like this could happen.”

joe pulled web to him, wrapping his arms around the baffled man.

“i don’t care. i want you and you want me. we want each other in our lives. it doesn’t have to be anymore complicated unless you want it to be.”

web opened and closed his mouth for a long minute before deciding on kissing joe.

it wasn’t long enough, but it was strong enough and it served it’s purpose. 

to help both of them feel one another, feel that what they had was real. 

joe pulled his head away from web’s chest, “besides, all the free wine isn’t that bad a perk.”

web pushed joe away, “golddigger.”

joe laughed and slapped web’s ass, “tease.”

web laughed and joined the others at the dining table.

joe sat down next to him and pulled his chair closer so he could rest his hand comfortably on web’s thigh. 

the conversation at the dining table was getting more heated as they discussed the fastest way to assemble an M-16.

web smiled softly, joe didn’t need to know that exact particular part of his life right now. he was about to steer it towards something wine related when joe chimed in.

“yeah but you have to watch the bolt cartridges, they can real hold up your assembly speed if you’re not careful.”

joe casually takes a sip of wine, while the rest of the table looks at him in silent amazement.

joe looks back at them, then stares at web, “what? i did a tour from ‘12-’16.”

web smiles in amazement, swears he’s in love and before he can stop the words, they’re flying out of his mouth.

he’s staring directly at joe, which doesn’t help, but he exclaims, “fucking marry me.”

joe doesn’t even bat an eye, cheek leaning on his folded hands, he just smiles and says, “all in due time, david.”

web kisses him and joe kissed back,

and that’s as good as promise as david needs. 

and on the day they get married, he’ll remind joe of that day right before they share their first kiss as husbands.

anonymous - thank you!!!

send me a pairing and an au and i’ll make an aesthetic post + ficlet