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sothatmyocshauntmealittleless · 3 years

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No time to die - part 2/2

->part 1

author's note: the story is finished for now, and I don't think that I would go back to them in the near future. While writing it, at some point a voice in my head tried to convince me to turn it into something more, but I don't think I have the material for it, for now. Anyways I hope that you enjoy it.

~1600 words

The night passes peacefully, or at least what's left of it. And when morning comes, I can’t really tell who wakes up first, because we fall fast into the easy routine of making breakfast. Nothing fancy but it’ll do for now. She puts the cheese on my side of the table and the blackberry jam on hers, like how we used to trade them when we got the same package on school trips. Jam for her and her love of sweet flavors, and cheese for me because I never understood how could people eat something that sweet and I could eat cheese on every meal.

We chat while we eat, mostly about silly little things in our lives that aren’t too impersonal that it’d be awkward but aren’t truly intimate either. Beside talking about the general state of our families, she tells me about her weird classmates or funny moments in uni, and then asks me about my neighbor, an old lady who is always source of bizarre tales. And then we go on to talk about the latest news and events that happened in the world, carefully avoiding sensitive subjects, because we both know that our newfound proximity is too fragile to be tested like that yet.

This is an easy dance, one we had mastered before. Casual conversations for tiring days when we didn’t have energy for anything serious. But I guess now, after being apart for so long this acts as a shortcut to how we used to be back then and without even noticing we grow closer as it goes, and the room has gone silent.

The stillness of this moment freezes time for me, and then breaks it completely. I’m thrown back in time and we’re seventeen again. It’s the day before it all changed, or the day that changed it all, depends on your view. It’s the launch break before the last period on a Tuesday and we were sitting on the school yard’s floor. I can’t exactly remember what we were talking about, but back then we could never be spotted apart from each other. With our heated conversations and ambitious plans, discussing latest political changes and saying how if we were older we would do something about them. For once it felt like I knew which way things were going and I was less afraid to face what was to come. Maybe our dreams my dreams sound a little naïve now, but we were going to study humanities and we were going to make the world a better place. And well now I know for a fact that how I felt wasn’t just because of my dreams for the future, a big part of it was because of her. Having someone to share the scary and exiting parts of being a teenager with, felt truly special.

Then the bell rang and we had to go back to our class. We were crossing that last hallway and I realized that we were all alone, I was delighted, and felt like I was walking on air. I so desperately wanted to share this feeling with her, to let her know that she was part of the reason why, but I didn’t quite have the words for it. As our voices got quieter and our steps grew slower, we were turning towards each other, until I was facing her and she was looking at me. I can’t really remember what finally pushed me off the edge, but I took a step toward her and slightly rose up on my feet, and touched our lips very gently and briefly together, then pulled back to wait for her reaction. But before she could say a word or do anything a loud shouting made us both jump from where we were standing. I couldn’t register it at first but when I looked at the direction it was coming from, I understood that it was one of the school staff yelling at us to go to our class.

I felt so whiplashed from the contrast of those moments that I went straight to the class. During that period, which was one of the few ones that we didn’t sit together because the teacher had assigned the sits, I tried to make eye contact with her but she wouldn’t look at me. And when the period finally ended before I could reach her, they paged her from the office and she stormed out, and I couldn’t see her again that day. It seemed like an unfortunate coincidence back then, but now it makes sense considering what she was about to do, needed some paper work.

That day when I got home, I couldn’t bring myself to text her and thought that it would be easier to talk to her in person. Little did I know. The next day when she was absent in the first period, I was so close to breaking down crying in the hallway in the break after, when one of the girls from the other class found me and asked me if I had seen her. When I said that she hadn’t come to school that day, the other girl replied with a bit of confusion in her voice that “She was in our class today. She transferred subjects yesterday, I thought that you’d know.”

“What do you mean?” I was so shocked I was nearly shouting, and the other girl wasn’t having any of it so she shrugged and said “go see for yourself she will probably go back to our class soon.” She was indeed in the biology class, and she was sitting with one of their groups, laughing and chatting like it was something she would do every day. She wasn’t exactly cold with me but there wasn’t any of that previous intimacy either. “You didn’t tell me that you were changing your subject to biology?” bitterness and confusion bleeding out from my voice, “Yeah, it happened fast. Now you know.” She said it so casually that I was starting to doubt that this was all a dream. “And since when do you even like it?” “I never hated it, I’ve just decided it’s the best path I can go.” And well that argument (if we can even call it that because she couldn’t be more calm about it) and the next ones when I was trying to figure out what had changed her mind so abruptly led to nothing. She treated it like the most normal thing in the world. And she didn’t exactly change or end our friendship directly but from that point on, she wanted to do everything with her new group of friends, and mostly ignored all the little intimate things we used to share, and well of course I was welcome to join but it was never like how we were before. She also dogged all of my attempts at talking about what had happened that Tuesday in the hallways.

After a month or so I couldn’t take it anymore. I started ignoring her offers to join them at launch, and stopped responding to her texts. I found a natural group in our class to spend the breaks with and buried myself under studying. Nothing really happened in the last month left of eleventh grade and twelfth grade. We both got accepted in the universities that we wanted, she was going to be a doctor, and I was going to study law. I never stopped chasing what she was doing from afar, from this other friends’ Instagram or that other one in common group chats, but we never made direct contact for more than five years.

Until now, that she is in my kitchen, in a dead silent morning, and we’re just inches apart. It is kind of like how it was in that hallway, but this time I don’t have it in me to initialize anything. My breaths slow down and she is looking directly at me, not pulling away. I can’t tell how she feels from her expression, I hope mine doesn’t give away much either, but even assuming she hasn’t already sensed my rapid pulse, I can bet that my eyes are screaming to her to do something. Anything. But neither of us does anything.

Finally, we break apart when her phone dings with a notification sound, and she stands to pick it up.

“I should probably get going. He has arrived.”

“Um you called a ride?”

“No, it’s a friend.”

“Oh okay, do you need anything before you go?”

“No. Is it fine if he comes up?”

“Yeah, it’s totally okay.”

When he comes up, she introduces us briefly. Apparently, he’s a friend from university, she hasn’t told me anything about him during breakfast. It takes all of me to not roll my eyes at his bland comments, and not stare at them holding hands. I thank her one last time for what she did last night, not exactly mentioning what it was, suspecting that she hadn’t told him the whole truth. We say our final goodbyes and they go where ever they’re heading.

After she’s gone I don’t know how to feel about the whole situation. At least I didn’t die bleeding out on my floor. But I don’t know which would be more painful, trying to mend our relationship, knowing it’d never go where I want it to, or abandoning it again after having a taste of it after so many years. Well maybe, just maybe, I’ve become less stubborn from when I was seventeen, and with missing her so much I would just accept whatever piece of her she decides to give me.

-the end-

#I can't believe I got away in this one with just naming one of the characters #lets pretend that it was an artistic choice rather than the result of my disability in picking name for my ocs #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writrblr

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percyinpanties · 4 years

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this has been in my drafts since 2018, apparently. I edited this and added to it, and god it feels good to get some words done. have an innocent lil highschool au.

pairing: jercy rating: teen+ (light swearing)

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When something small and sharp hits his cheek, Jason startles out of his thoughts and blinks slowly. His gaze is unfocused, as is his mind - he was so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even quite recall what it was that had his mind this occopied.

Jason blinks again, deliberately slow, trying to clear his vision. For the first few seconds, he isn't sure where he is and what he's doing, let alone what hit his cheek in the first place. Maybe he has imagined it?

His thoughts are still sluggish and Jason has to rub his eyes before the room around him finally comes into focus.

The library.

Right. Finals.

Jason came here right after his last class, meant to grab some books and hide away in one of the study corners to go over his notes and force the material into his brain. Apparently the lack of sleep last night, well last week if Jason is fully honest with himself, is catching up to him.

Even now, shaken out of his daze by whatever has hit him, Jason's mind is slow to process what is happening.

How long has he been sitting here? Was he asleep? Did he even read anything before his mind went to a place far far away from where it should be this afternoon?

Jason looks around.

On the table, between his own unreadable notes and two open books, sits a small paper airplane. Jason doesn't have to look up to know who the culprit is - the airplane is made of vibrant blue paper and there is only one person at this school who’d even carry something like this in his everyday pack.

“Did I wake you?” The whisper, dramatic and teasing in tone, comes as if on cue from Jason's right.

Jason aims for a glare when he looks up, but instead ends up meeting Percy's gaze with a weak smile. Unfair paper plane attack or not, Jason evidently had needed the wake-up call. It is probably for the best if Percy's here to distract him, if only for a few minutes.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason mumbles as Percy pulls out the chair next to him and turns it around to sit, arms crossed over the backrest. It's only then that Jason realises how empty the library is now. Jason could swear that just five minutes ago, it was brimming with other students and staff, so busy that he hardly found a space to occupy with his own study notes.

“You didn't answer my texts.” Percy says casually and Jason thinks he imagines there's some concern in Percy’s tone too. “And then Thalia said you hadn't even come home yet. So I thought to myself: Where does one find a nerd two weeks before finals?”

Jason huffs and playfully punches Percy's arm. There's no heat behind it and judging by the little laugh that escapes Percy, he knows it too.

“How late is it, exactly?” Jason asks, quieter now.

If it’s late enough that both Percy and Thalia have been worrying, Jason must’ve wasted his entire afternoon sitting around staring at the wall, losing time he can’t afford to lose this close to exams. Sure, his marks have been good this year so far, but that has been because he’s continuously worked for it. His parents, especially his father, have certain expectations and he’s not about to disappoint them.

Jason takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up to punch the bridge of his nose. He can feel anxiety creeps up in Jason’s chest, like tar filling his lungs. Two weeks is nothing, especially not considering how many topics he still wants to cover again. He knew the content when they were tested on it before, sure, but most of that is months back now and frankly, Jason doesn’t trust his long-time memory all that well.

It’s getting hard to breathe, Jason knows he’s spiraling, but that doesn’t give him any more control over his thoughts.

A hand gently covers Jason's lying on the table and squeezes, stopping the thoughts, if only for a moment. It feels like Jason's heart stutters for a few beats, before resuming its rhythm faster than before. Part of Jason wonders what this means, if it’s only meant to be a calming gesture, but the larger part of him is too scared to question it. None of his other friends are this comfortable being close...

Jason opens his eyes and finds Percy looking at him quizzically. When Percy speaks, his voice betrays nothing.

“Half past six.”

Jason groans and drops his head to the table. Of course, he wasted the entire day. He’ll have to stay up again tonight if he wants to make up for it, which means he’ll be tired tomorrow and…

“Which is exactly why I'm here. You need a break, my dude.” Percy sounds half joking, but this time Jason realises it's only to hide the concern. “You need to get out of here. Let's get some food, my treat?”

When Jason raises his head and looks at him, Percy is watching closely, brow furrowed.

Food sounds tempting. Jason isn’t sure when he last ate, anyway, not having had time for breakfast in the morning. If it’s already six-thirty, he was supposed to be home for dinner half an hour ago, so all that’s awaiting him there are cold leftovers. Plus, while his mother will hardly have noticed, Jason knows his father won’t be pleased about him missing family dinner, and he doesn’t think he can handle that lecture right now.

Jason doesn't know how to answer, mainly because Percy's right: This isn’t getting him anywhere right now and he clearly hasn’t done himself any favours by not taking even a single break and studying late most nights. Even so, spending time with Percy now means losing time Jason needs to study and he already knows he’s going to beat himself up for it next week.

“It’s one evening, Jason.” Percy says gently. “I promise you’ll be fine. You’re a smart cookie.”

Jason manages a little smile and turns his hand over under Percy’s palm so his own is pressed to Percy’s. The other boy doesn’t hesitate, he shifts his hand to lace their fingers together and this - this certainly isn’t something that friends do, generally.

“You gotta take care of yourself, too.” Percy says now, looking at their joined hands rather than meeting Jason’s gaze. His cheeks look a little pink, but Jason is sure he must be imagining that. “And if you can’t, I’m still here to help with that, yeah?”

Jason’s chest feels tight, although this is entirely different than the heavy anxiety that took him over before. It’s not like someone’s tied a too tight ribbon around his ribcage, but rather feels like his heart has grown too big for its case.

It's very quiet for a moment, then Jason sighs. Jason doesn’t really want to face his parents yet, and what is one night, really?

“Fine.” He says, defeated. Percy squeezes his hand. “I’m starving anyway.”

Percy smiles so brightly that it makes something inside Jason ache, and yet he finds himself smiling back.

Fifteen minutes later, they're walking down the halls of the school toward the car park. Percy is carrying the books Jason has checked out of the library, and even though Jason insisted earlier that he was fine carrying them by himself, he's glad now for the weight lifted from him. At first, every step away from the library had filled Jason with guilt, thoughts of how much time he’s wasting that he won’t get back when he realises in a week how much he’s still got left to study, but with Percy here, with his persistent chatter and teasing, it’s easier to push them aside for now.

He called Thalia, told her he’d be back later, that he needed a little break. He hadn’t even gotten to asked her about it when she promised to cover for him, so their father wouldn’t make a big fuzz about the whole thing.

“I can practically hear you thinking.” Percy says and nudges his shoulder against Jason's lightly. Neither of them have spoken in a while, and Jason knows it’s mostly because he is overthinking again. “Let it go, just for tonight, yeah? You deserve a break.”

Jason knows that, objectively, Percy is right.

He knows that he’s been overworking himself, that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep and not allowing himself enough breaks. He knows that, at this rate, all his studying will be for naught anyway. That does nothing to lighten the anxiety that comes over him every time someone so much as mentions their exams though. Most of the pressure originates in his own perfectionism, Jason knows all that, but even so he can't bring himself to care even a little less. Failing is not an option for him.

When Jason doesn't answer, Percy keeps talking.

He is speaking quieter and slower than he usually does, which Jason and his tired brain are grateful for. It’s about nothing important, not really, and maybe that is intentional too. Little by little, Jason finds himself relaxing again. Percy’s voice is soothing, there’s no edge to it, no hidden jab or teasing. Jason wonders if Percy knows how much he appreciates this right now.

The walk to the car park isn’t far. Percy has parked his crappy old car close to the entrance and Jason jogs a few steps ahead when he spots it to open the trunk for Percy to dump the books in.

“Perfect. Now, Chinese?” Percy asks and Jason frowns. He still has a hand on the back door of the car, halfway pulled down to close it again. It takes him entirely too long to realise Percy is asking about food.

“Or…” Percy adds with a drawl, grin growing on his face. “We could get milkshakes.”

Jason perks up at that. Percy knows him far too well and Jason knows exactly which fast food joint Percy is thinking of. He must know it’s Jason’s favourite too, or he wouldn’t look so smug at Jason’s reaction.

“I want a milkshake.” Jason mumbles before he can stop himself. He looks at Percy with his best attempt at puppy eyes, and given his current state he probably looks more convincing than on an average day.

Percy grins at him. “Milkshakes it is then.”

Percy’s car starts with a sputter.

As they drive, Jason isn't quite asleep, but he is not really awake either.

Percy doesn't seem to mind.

They don’t speak this time, Percy turns the radio to some random station on a low volume and starts humming along under his breath whenever he recognises a song. It makes Jason’s lips twitch with a smile, and when he turns his head to the side he can see Percy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and dancing in his seat as well.

Percy catches Jason looking, looks back and winks at Jason before his eyes are back on the road. The action is so quick, Jason isn’t sure if he hasn’t imagined it. Jason feels his cheeks warm, but his gaze lingers a little longer, taking in Percy's profile with his messy hair, plush lips and long lashes. He’s pretty, Jason thinks, then bites his lip and turns his gaze away. The lack of sleep is getting to him, clearly, and he shakes his head lightly as if that would help push the thoughts away from the dangerous path they’ve threatened to go down on just now.

They get their food from the drive-through, and Percy takes him to the lake just outside of town. The sun’s going down, setting over the water and tinting everything orange and red. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think this was a place Percy would take his dates to.

It’s blissfully quiet, and luckily just warm enough that they can sit down on the grass outside while they share their food. Jason practically lets himself fall to the ground and Percy isn’t far behind.

There’s no one around but them, the air is pleasantly crips and this far out and away from school and his family, Jason feels some of the stress fade away. Maybe he can allow himself this, just tonight, to let go for a little while.

“Thank you.” Jason says quietly, picking at their food before turning his head to look at Percy. They’re sitting close, almost touching, and for a second Jason contemplates reaching out his hand to take Percy’s in his own like the other boy had done in the library earlier. Jason knows though that it would be different now, where no one could see, where it’s just them, and when Jason has no real reason to reach out.

Percy knocks their knees together playfully, smiles from behind his milkshake. Jason can’t quite pull his gaze away.

“Anytime.” Percy says, and Jason knows he means it too.

Jason bites his lip, tears his eyes away and casts them out to the lake instead. He’s not quite sure what is going on with him, with them, but this isn’t the first time he’s noticed that more often than not, he feels entirely different around Percy than he does around their other friends. It’s not in a bad way, that he knows, because this, the here and now with Percy at his side, it feels peaceful, and it feels right.

“You’re thinking too much.” Percy says, and this time, he leans into Jason’s side. It’s unprompted and unexpected, but works as intended, it stops Jason from thinking, at least for the moment.

Percy’s cheek rests against his shoulders, their arms and thighs pressed together. Jason feels the warmth of Percy’s skin, the soft fabric of his sweater,...

“I know.” Jason replies, because it’s true, and there is no point in lying to Percy. “I… don’t think I can stop, though?”

It’s phrased like a question, rather than a statement, and it makes Percy laugh quietly before tilting his head back to look at Jason.

“Oughta help you with that, don’t I?” He says, and he grins, and Jason’s heart does a funny little squeeze in his chest. His gaze falls to Percy’s lips, for only a split second, and before he can work out where his thoughts are taking him this time, Percy seems to be moving closer.

Ping!

Ping. Ping.

Jason blinks and Percy stills. For a split-second, neither moves, then Percy shifts back and Jason turns to the side to check his phone. His cheeks are burning, but even so, he has no idea what just happened, or what was about to happen. It feels… important, somehow, like this was a turning point, or a chance that won’t come back, and Jason isn’t sure why or how, but he’s sure he’s ruined it regardless.

#jercy #pjo #jason grace #percy jackson #my stuff #my writing #high school au #teen+

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starsescape · 3 years

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Looking over her shoulder Jill caught Juno’s eyes. Their gaze move low and then at the bottle she held. They look tired, but they gave her an encouraging smile as if to say what are you waiting for.. Jill twist the top off with a flick and held it out for Juno.

[Jill lost the bottle of brandy]

They smirk and took it. Without a word Juno brought it up to her lips and drank from it, heavily too. “Fuck.. I needed that.” Juno reach out to give the bottle back to Jill while giving a nod to invite her to take a seat next to her. “Thanks.”

With the bottle in hand Jill walk up to Juno and took a seat near them on the floor. Jill rest her back against the desk Juno was seated on and chuckle. “Assumed we could use a drink.” Jill drink slower than the other woman, but she took a hefty amount. The brandy was strong enough to force a groan out of her. God, that’s strong. Jill rarely drank anything stronger than beer or wine. “Deserved a break too.” Jill lean on Juno’s leg to brush it with her shoulder for a playful nudge.

The silence fell after a laugh as the bottle exchange hands again. A minute pass, maybe a minute or a half. “So..” Juno let the word drag and linger. “What do you do with your free time?” The question made it feel like they were on a blind speed date, trying desperately to learn the most of each other before the time runs out. Well, it would have felt just like a blind date alone if not knowing the situation they were in and how they were wasting time.

Jill raise her arm to signal that she want a sip. “Jogging..” She felt somewhat embarrassed for giving that answer. The police work didn’t leave much free time and her hobby wasn’t that interesting. “Jogging and drinking.” She add. “Ever been to Bar Jack?” Jill took another gulp.

“Wow, you are boring.” Juno chuckle and grin as they look down on Jill. They took the bottle from her and drink up. “Visit there once, not really my kind of place. I prefer Jack’s bar.”

What.. “Right, that’s what I said? Bar Jack.” Jill turn to look up at Juno who was in the middle of taking a gulp. They didn’t stop drinking, but gave Jill a confused side-eye. With a loud groan Juno gave up on trying to down the whole bottle alone. She gave it back to Jill who now sit on the floor facing Juno and leaning back on her arms.

“Yeah? I said I prefer Jack’s bar.” With the bottle out of her hands Juno didn’t really know what to do with them so she simply lean forward and rest them on her thighs. Juno’s gaze was fixed on her eyes, but it start to move lower until Jill spoke up again after she was done drinking.

“What are you talking about? I’m a regular there and I have never seen you before.” Jill finish what she had to say just before it click with her. She took a deep breath and let it out. I made a fool of myself.. That thought was only made stronger by the smirk Juno had. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Jill laugh and felt her cheeks burn. “Right, Jack’s bar... At the edge of the town, not the Bar Jack in uptown.” People often confused the two places with the similar names, but Jill hadn’t done that mistake in years. She was already feeling the effects of the booze. Embarrassed over her mistake Jill seek comfort from the bottle before giving it back to Juno again. “So what do you do when you aren’t drinking?”

Juno kept quiet for a while, now their eyes linger on Jill’s body. “Computer coding mainly.” Her gaze had Jill move her feet in a way that cause her to lift her skirt just slightly. “When I’m not sweating at the construction site that is..” Juno trail off for a bit flexing just subtly enough for it not to feel like showing off, but after realizing she was staring Juno went for what she had propably been thinking for a while now “You know, you are kinda hot for a cop.”

Biting her lip Jill look away and chuckle. “Right..” She took one last gulp from the bottle and gave it back for Juno to finish. Jill shook her head and still avoid their gaze not able to say it while watching the other in the eye. “I’m not a cop anymore.” Jill confess, the guilt sting in her heart for leading Juno on to believe she was still part of the force. “You don’t read the news much, do you?” It had been on the front page when the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members had been suspended and ridiculed in August with the exception of Brad who kept his head down and mouth shut unlike the rest of them after the mansion incident.

“Not really.” The answer was given with a sly grin before Juno brought the bottle up to her lips once more. She sway the bottle in her hand while giving it a quick glance before looking back at Jill. Her grin went wide “Pretty shitty of you to pretend to be a cop if you ain’t one, Jill.” Juno raise her leg and press her boot gently against Jill’s shoulder, but she add strength as she talk. “Did you do it to feel high and mighty, bossing me around like that?”

Jill lean back under the pressure. “No..” She breath out as she was forced lower towards the ground. “I did it because I need your help.” Jill tried to reason for giving a half truth. “I’m sorry, I should have told you the tru-” Her apology end midway as she felt Juno’s boot slide lower. It press hard against her chest and cause Jill to gasp and look up at Juno in shock. They move it low and then brought it back to flick at her nipple with the toe of her boot. It had Jill bite her lip to swallow the moan that tried to get out despite the teasing being done through the cloth of her top. Humiliating.. The overwhelming shame wash over her like a warm wave. It feels good. Jill felt like she deserve to be slapped for lying to Juno. “I’m sorry, Juno.” She tried to apologize. This isn’t enough.

Juno grinned as she continued to tease the other woman with her boot, stealing one last drink from the bottle before setting it aside. "I wouldn't blame you if you did..." The toe of her boot flicked across the covered nipple once more as she leaned back on the desk, sneaking a peek down towards the others skirt. "But if you're really shorry... Maybe we can come to an agreement for your apology."

Jill continued to bite her lip, holding back the loudness of her moan as she was teased through her top. It feels rough... She closed her eyes and attempted to focus on her breathing to calm herself down enough to answer the tease sitting over her. "Let me guess... We have a bit of fun with you bossin' me around?"

The smile on the mechanic’s face grew as she gave a quick upward flick with her boot against the others breast, nodding once as she readjusted her feet and brought them away from the former officer, keeping them spread as they hit the floor again, presenting herself to Jill. "That's a good guess! I promise I'll be far nicer than the other cops if they caught you snooping around here dressed like that." She picked up the bottle and passed it back over to Jill as she shook her head, muttering under her breath as Jill took it from her. "Should have seen it coming though... You're dressed more like a hooker than a cop with that tube top and miniskirt."

Jill shrugged and took a final drink before setting the mostly empty bottle down between them. There wasn't much left, but those last few drops of liquor on her tongue were enough. She shifted slightly, her skirt rising more now as she glanced around the room. It was safe here... We have time.

"You know... The hookers that dress like you tend to flash their cunts just by breathing." Juno chuckled as she tried to sneak a peek under the skirt once more. "You do that lately, or just wear it for a quick fuck at Bar Jack?"

Jill rolled her eyes and laughed despite herself. "Maybe I have. Not a cop any more, but it's not like you've got room to talk." She reached up and pinch the obvious nipple poking through Juno’s top. "White tank top, no bra, daisy duke style denim shorts? How did you keep their hands off you when you walked through the door?" Jill thought that the most of the police were good people, but she knew the ones Juno dealt with weren’t one of them.

Now it was Juno's turn to bite her lip as she barely contained a moan. "E-easy.... I leveraged my skills to buy time. Knew the station needed work and told 'em it wasn't coming... Heh... coming..." She laughed as she leaned in closer to Jill, letting her hand cup her breast through her top. "Help wouldn't be coming any time soon, and if they tried anything, I'd fry the places circuits in a heartbeat." She winked as she eased herself down from the desk, practically crawling between Jill's legs as one hand caressed her thigh, easing its way up to her crotch, while the other rested on her shoulder, their faces coming within inches of each other, smelling the booze coming from both of them with each breath.

The already quite dark room seemed to grow eerily quieter as Juno inched closer, mashing her lips against Jill’s in the same moment her fingertips found Jill's crotch, tracing the outline of her sex with some eagerness before sliding the first digit in. "No panties, huh? Bold choice.”

“N-Not by choice..” Jill’s ragged breath came out with a stuttering moan. Seeing Juno’s questioning look she realized that they were wondering if it had been because of the less respectable survivors or the infected. To prevent that trail of thought going forward Jill kiss Juno again, eagerly and passionately. Their erratic breathing fill the silence and their breasts heave against each other with each heavy breath. The finger sink deep, there was no denying how wet Jill had become from all of this. Their nipples brush and tease the others through their clothes as they lost themselves in the kiss.

After a heated moment Juno shove Jill flat against the ground by her shoulder while straddling them. “Fhuck.. You are amazing.” The drunken compliment had the woman underneath look to the side embarrassed, yet the way Jill grind their hips to get more of the finger inside of them spoke louder than the avoidance. Juno couldn’t help but to add another. “I always wanted to fuck a cop, you know?” They confess as they start to move their fingers slowly and lean over Jill, but not to focus on her but instead try to reach for something from their tool box with their free hand. “Something about taking an authority down a peg just gets me off.”

“R-Really?” Jill chuckle before biting her lip to keep her voice down. She was starting to be too eager and to avoid further humiliation Jill tried to resist her urge to submit fully or the very least not to give the full satisfaction of taming her just yet. “Gh.. Guess you aren’t the only one.” She imagine it to be a common fantasy and in a way it was a shared one, though right now Jill fill the role of the one who was taken down.

“Give me your hands.” The request was said as Juno took a grip of Jill’s arm. They had a black Electrical tape which would soon bound Jill by her wrists if she allowed it. The sensible side of her did every argument why this was a bad idea. How she couldn’t trust a stranger she had met only a moment before, how the alcohol cloud her judgement and how defenseless she would be, but Jill didn’t listen to any of it. When Jill offer her hands to be taped Juno grin. “You are such a slut.” As Juno pull her fingers out to have Jill gasp when the tape was wrapped around her wrists to secure them together. “Now be a good girl, alright?” Juno guide Jill to stretch her arms above her head.

This is so wrong... “S-Shit.. Wait a moment.” Jill rarely curse, but seeing how Juno pull out a crescent spanner and press it against her cheek to slowly slide it toward her lips warrant her to do so. Why I humiliate myself so easily? That question linger in her mind as the end of the spanner push past her lips. She suck on it and lick it, staining it with her saliva and then even gag on it as Juno push it just slightly too deep down her throat before pulling it away. Jill was left panting with a trail of drool connecting her open lips with the spanner Juno still held just inches away from her face. “What are you gonna do with that?”

“Cops always have a stick up their ass, Jill.” Juno lean down to kiss Jill’s neck before whispering. “Seem you drop yours so I have to give it back.” It was a perverse way of complimenting Jill. It imply that Juno thought Jill to be friendlier than the other cops, one Juno didn’t detest.

Jill tried to catch Juno’s lips when they were still leaning over her, but they sit back up too fast for her to kiss them again. Stop teasing me.. It frustrate her to no end. Humiliated and without control of anything Jill felt more vulnerable, yet the drunken lust that had took over both women gave her comfort. “Please.. D-Do it slowly.” Her voice broke just slightly upon feeling anxious as Juno press the lubed end of the spanner against her ass. They did it slowly. Slowly enough for Jill to feel every inch of the cold steel sink into her anal. It was impossible to stay still even with Juno on top of her. So hard.. And long. Oh god.

“You okay?” There was a pause. The spanner was half way inside when Juno ask the question. They got a barely audible “Y-Yeah.” as an answer as it was overshadowed by Jill’s panting breaths. Her chest heave up and down along with the erratic rhythm of it. The confirmation and the way Jill seem to enjoy having it up her ass was enough for Juno to continue to press the spanner deeper inside. Juno got to enjoy the sight of the policewoman squirm underneath her. “You are so hot like this.” It was too much for her not to touch herself. As Juno push the spanner deeper she grope her breasts, then struggle to unbutton her shorts and finally finger herself desperately on top of Jill. Only when just the crescent end of the spanner was poking out of Jill did Juno notice how Jill’s feet were already trembling with a stream of her juices staining her thighs. “Holy fuck. You loved it that much, huh?”

Stick up my ass... Cumming... The orgasm had hit Jill so suddenly that she hadn’t even reacted to it by moaning. A silent orgasm ripple through her body as she felt the whole world whirl around her, the druken haze had Juno’s figure become somewhat foggy in her gaze until they lean down to kiss her again. “Shorry..” How could she come so easily? Was it the humiliation that got her off so hard that she came from it alone or had something else change? Those questions linger her mind for a moment, but Jill eagerly push them aside to focus on what mattered to her more. “Let me please you.” Jill whispered and as an invitation left her lips parted.

“Ah.. N-Not yet.” Juno’s hand still hold on to the spanner, gently rotating it to have its full length scrape Jill’s anal, while her other hand was busy in her shorts. “I want more and I bet you do too.” Saying that had Juno moan as her fingers dig deeper into her cunt, even through the cloth Jill could hear the squelching sound of Juno’s fingering. “Stay down.. Just like that.” For a long time Juno stay on top of Jill, just pleasuring herself and getting off to the sight of the cop underneath her as she straddle them. Sometimes there was a need to shove Jill back down whenever she tried to push off the floor either to kiss or try to reach for Juno with her taped hands. After a few minutes Juno let go off the spanner leaving it stuck in Jill’s ass in favor of sliding both her hands in her shorts. Juno grind herself against Jill’s waist and lower stomach with growing intensity until she made herself cum. Juno threw her head back to let out a strained string of moans with her shorts stuffed with both of her hands and fingers deep in her pussy.

Jill tremble as she felt the weight of the eggs shift in her stomach. Her mouth twist from unnatural sensation as she bit her lower lip to stiffle a moan while drool leak from the corner her mouth. Juno grind herself against the eggs, too drunk and lost to pleasure to notice them within Jill’s stomach. “Grhk..” Jill groan and came once more, this time moaning in unison with her partner. The silence fell once more. Only their heavy breathing was heard. “You.. You are gorgeous.” Still panting Jill spoke her mind staring up at Juno who slowly regain their composure after the climax.

“Fhuck..” Cursing Juno let her head drop back down. She caught Jill’s eyes and she laughed. “Flattery won’t save you.” It sound like a threat, but it was one that left a smile one Jill’s lips. When Juno got up on her feet she first stumble and fell to her knees beside Jill, but the second attempt gave her enough time to take off her shorts. She lack panties, the same as Jill.

The eggs in Jill’s stomach settle down when Juno’s weight wasn’t pressing nor actively grinding against them. Felt strange a-and good... She had to resort to flattery trying to focus on something else than what grew inside of her. Jill chose to ignore what had cause her to cum for the second time. She willfully move on to whatever pleasures wait her next in the humiliating care of her dominating partner. The drunken lust was just too easy to slip into and Jill let it take her. She surrender to Juno to let go and forget everything. It felt comforting.

“You better serve me well, cop.” Juno went on all fours to whisper into Jill’s ear before turning around to face the other way. Juno back up to sit on Jill’s face, pressing her dripping cunt tightly against her mouth. She could hear and most of all feel Jill mumble something, maybe it was a protest or a praise, but Juno couldn’t make it out as she was too busy enjoying the sensation of Jill’s tongue and lips brushing against her pussy. That mumbling died down in favor of active servitude that had Juno bite her lip hard. She immediately start to grind herself against Jill’s face while letting out a moaning laughter. “Yh- You have the right to remain silent, but I doubt you will.”

Barely able to see anything from underneath Jill slip into a drunken trance. She lap at Juno’s pussy to drink up while trying to hold her breath. The back of Jill’s head got constantly slid across and hit the floor with what little movement the position allowed. “MGHh..?!” Jill’s squealing was loud only to her as it was muffled by Juno pressing hard down on her. The spanner was pulled on and it almost slip out of her ass before its full length was shoved back in. Then the motion repeat again and again with a furious speed. While Jill desperately eat Juno out they fuck their ass with the spanner. It slid in and out, twist and turn, ravaging her ass with erratic movements that had her squirm and her feet kick around aimlessly. The struggle to escape it only had Jill exhaust herself and with her arms taped together there was no chance of a success. All she could do was to lick that pussy.

Giving a tired laugh Juno fully flip Jill’s skirt out of the way and then lean down to lick Jill. Her hand got tired from fucking the cop’s ass with the spanner so she tried to compensate the loss of speed by fingering her and eating Jill out. In 69 the two women moan endlessly. Shuddering from the pleasure given by the other’s tongue, though only the one underneath truly tremble from the ordeal. Juno close her eyes and groan “D-Don’th dare to stop..” She had made Jill cum at least twice by fucking their ass and licking their pussy before the ever more tired efforts of Jill manage to bring Juno to the edge. “C-Cumming..!!” Her grip at the crescent of the spanner tighten until her knuckles became white and Juno was unable to keep pleasing Jill as her mouth was now too occupied releasing erratic breaths and moans that announce her orgasm.

What Juno didn’t do was to stop grinding her cunt against Jill’s face as they ride out their orgasm. Their juices stained Jill’s chin and lips, even drip down her cheeks and coat her nose. Juno’s scent and taste was all Jill could think about. It intoxicated her more than the drink they had shared. The taste of arousal was what soothe Jill to give in to her exhaustion. Her tongue stop licking them, it felt almost sore after doing it for so long. Her eyelids felt heavy. As she start to slip into darkness Jill felt Juno’s weight slid off from top of her to lay on their side beside her being just as exhausted as Jill was. Still Juno’s hand rest on Jill’s stomach, caressing her gently until both women drift into a dreamless sleep.

[Vote which items Jill left in the item box]

#sorry for the long wait #I had a 2 week vacation and this was a collab effort with the nexus of sin #starsescape #main story #scenario 3 #7 people vote!#results can be found on the scenario story page

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op-peccatori · 5 years

Text

Ruffled Feathers (nsfw) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5900

Summary: You’re aware that you're dating a man who doesn't lose his cool easily; it's a trait you've come to appreciate about him. However, that doesn't stop you from trying to ruffle his feathers every chance you get. What happens when your latest attempt at poking does wake the bear?

a/n: *looks at all my WIPs* ok time to write another Victor thirstfic!! I actually dreamt of the smut part and had a tough time writing everything that comes before lol. I'm gonna have to come back and edit this properly

(tags under the cut)

Tags/Warnings: explicit content and explicit dialogue, PWP, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), spanking, somewhat rough and dom Victor, MC pushing buttons

Thursday

The soft pitter-patter of rain falls across the courtyard, bringing the hint of a chill with it.

You run through the hallways, cursing your lack of foresight; you didn’t think to bring an umbrella. Victor and Goldman are dropping in on the set, and you want to be the one to welcome them. After all, it's not every day that your boyfriend finds the time to come meet you. You try to calm the rapid fluttering in your stomach–you're going to leave for a work trip in the morning, and you're going to be tied up on set until late in the night. He's just trying to get a little more time with you, just as you requested.

As a set of all too familiar shoulders come into view, you fight the urge to speed up and slow to a walk instead, unable to help the widening of your smile as you meet his eyes. His severe expression softens minutely, his mouth perking up as he meets you halfway, a strange tension buzzing between you both as you waver between options, each more formal than the previous. Throwing yourself into his arms like you want to is out of the question; there's no need to add fuel to the fire. You know people are curious about the nature of your relationship, and whether or not it goes beyond professional.

You settle for beaming up at him, waving at Goldman when he pops out from behind him. "I'm glad to see you both!" You're also grateful when Goldman takes Victor's umbrella and hurries ahead, under the pretence of wanting to inform the director of their arrival himself. He leaves you both smiling at each other as you follow at a much slower pace.

"How are you?" he asks quietly. His expressions slips into something fonder as you sigh loudly.

"Tired. Hungry. Borderline homicidal," you answer honestly. "What about you?" "It was a smooth day. I brought you some food, I thought we could eat together."

Once again, you fight the urge to hug him. Instead, with a quick glance around, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. His hand is warm under your touch, and you wish you could just wrap yourself around him and bask in his warmth. The way his shirt stretches over his chest doesn’t help matters in the slightest, and you wonder if he’d left the jacket behind on purpose.

"That would be lovely, Victor." You pause when you realize there's a sudden stillness in the air, one you're more than familiar with. Fingers curve around your jaw and with your heart kicking into gear, you look up in time to see him leaning in, slotting your lips together firmly. As his arm slides around your waist, affection morphs into a hot liquid that pools in your abdomen. With the rain frozen still behind you, you press up against him, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your hands coming to rest over his chest. It's relief, it's like putting warm socks on after a shower, and you just want to sink into him. The want that has been creeping around in your body finally settles down.

A sound of a complaint leaves your lips when he pulls away, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "Now, how about you show me around?"

After that kiss, all you really want to do is find an empty room. But it also reminds you of what you've been toying with in your head all day, so you agree with a smile only slightly dazed. Victor smiles back, unaware of the devious ideas you've been playing with, and takes a small step away. Well, it can't be helped. You won't get to be alone with Victor for another week, and chances like this one are too rare to pass up.

With a kernel of regret in your heart, you lead your oblivious boyfriend further into the building.

Monday

All chatter in the room ceases as he walks in, some of the occupants scurrying out of the room and some greeting him meekly. You watch quietly as Goldman leaves your side and hurries to his, informing him of all the meetings scheduled for the day.

You watch, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, and wait. Your patience is rewarded when he glances your way: the slightest of pauses in his stride, a twitch of his mouth, the softening of his eyes. It's taken a considerable amount of time for you to become familiar with the minute changes in his expression; it took a lot of testing, a lot of risks, and you hoard this knowledge jealously. He says something to Goldman while still looking at you before he walks through the doors to his office.

Goldman relaxes slightly and walks back over to sit at his desk. "You've got fifteen minutes. He's such a generous man, isn't he? You're a lucky girl!"

'Or he knows I didn't get enough sleep last night and need this cup.' Goldman eyes the little smile on your face suspiciously. "Actually, never mind."

"Well, actually, Goldman," you begin with a sweet smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is."

"With the kind of face you're making? I don't want to know."

"Oh, c'mon! It's just a little favour. And it's for Victor too!" you cajole softly, and he slumps slightly. "I just wanted to know his schedule for Thursday."

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he asks confusedly, adjusting his glasses nervously.

You roll your eyes. "Then it wouldn't be much of a surprise would it?"

"Hmm. And it's something he'll like?" You feel a stab of guilt at how sincere he looks, but it's not like you're planning something terrible. It's just something new, that's all.

"Oh, trust me. He'll like it," you say, unable to help the little smirk that curls along your mouth. You're not sure what Goldman interprets from that, because he looks a little nauseous.

"Right. I regret asking," he sighs. "Well, he's got a few calls and meetings scheduled in the morning, but he does have some time after 5."

"Perfect."

Thursday

And so, having ensured you have some space to yourself, you invited Victor for a short visit to the set. You're filming a fantasy show here, and tomorrow you'll be off to visit other potential shoot locations. You weren't expecting Goldman to tag along, but you figure he's more or less part of the gang now, and knows better than to interrupt your time with his boss–mostly because he would rather not know what you're doing. You've done most of your work, and with Anna stopping by, you're not exactly required to stick around to supervise. With a quick meal, you begin the tour.

You're careful as you lead Victor to different parts of the building. It's an older building on the outskirts of the city, and the lighting leaves much to be desired. But the stonework is beautiful, as are the paintings hanging in the halls. You can't tell if the house had actual floorplans because the rooms and staircases seem to have been constructed at random places. You pass by the windows, admiring the plants in the courtyard that are bright in the soft rain, and as you walk to a quieter part of the building, you reach for his hand, curling your fingers around his firmly. Stepping into your favourite part of this odd little mansion, you show him the room you stop by every time you feel the urge to cry or rage.

There are mirrors of various shapes and sizes on all four walls, and the first time you had come in here you had been so dizzy you'd nearly missed a window in the corner. You had dragged an armchair in here, positioning it in front of the window that had its own private little view of the courtyard. As you declare the room as your spot, an excited skip in your step, Victor eyes you speculatively.

"You sounded a little haggard when we spoke yesterday," he begins, glancing at the door as you step closer and wrap your arms around him. "Yet, you seem almost cheerful now."

"Ah, well," you laugh nervously, a sliver of triumph slithering through you. You turn your head until you can see your reflection in few of the mirrors, the way Victor’s hand slips down to cup your ass before he seems to catch himself and bring it back to safer territory. "Yesterday was pretty rough. But, well. I have my ways of cheering myself up."

"Pancakes?"

'Well, that too.' You smile into his shirt, inhaling the subtle tones of his cologne. The familiar scent relaxes something in you, nearly making regret your plans of breaking this peaceful atmosphere. "Not quite."

He doesn't respond, merely waiting for you to come out with it. Your pulse quickens as you peer up at him sheepishly, hoping the expression isn't too exaggerated. "Well, I was so tense, you know. I needed something to take the edge off. So...you remember that voice note you once sent me?"

You wait for it to click, and you know the exact moment it does, the slight parting of his lips giving him away. "Yes."

"It helped me take care of things."

"Take care of things," he repeats, his hands flexing where they rest on your back.

"Uh, yeah. It's quite effective, I really have to thank you for that! Never fails to bring me to-"

"How often do you...use it?" he cuts you off, hands tightening their grip on you. You blink at his strained tone, adopting a look of slight confusion.

"...often enough. Is there a problem?" You pat yourself on the back for how concerned you manage to sound, snapping to attention when Victor scowls at you.

"Not a problem. But...why don't you just call me?"

"Sometimes I just wake up wanting you." You shrug casually and try to take a measured step away from him, but he doesn't let you, pulling you close to brush his lips over the tender spot underneath your ear.

"Then next time, call me," he murmurs, pressing soft yet insistent kisses down your neck as if trying to emphasise on how much he means it.

"Victor-" you try to protest, hoping dearly that your smile doesn't break free.

"I don't care. This is my job. Call me."

With cheeks warming at his stern tone, you laugh and begin to walk out of the room. "Fine, I'll try. But it won't be possible all the time, you know."

"Why not?" he asks, following you with a deep frown crinkling his forehead.

"Well, I'm going away tomorrow, and who knows what schedule will be like?" You do. "And I can't always disturb you."

A hand curls around your arm, pulling you back into the room just as you exit it. You crash against him when he drags you back towards him, his arms tight around you and keeping you in his hold. You're half expecting the way he kisses you, the way his tongue curls around yours demandingly, the moan it draws from you. Fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you in place for him to plunder your mouth greedily–but then it turns softer than you would like it to. His eyes are clear of any irritation when he pulls back, the dark hints of desire swept away quickly.

"I guess I can understand that. But I hope you know I'm always here to take care of anything you need," he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod dumbly, not having expected him to be so agreeable.

"So, is this you giving me permission to finger myself to your voice anytime I want?" you joke weakly. His fingers dig into your skin for a moment, almost painfully, but his expression is still clear when you look at him again.

"You don't need my permission. Again, I do hope you'll make use of your willing boyfriend more often, hm?" he teases you lightly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You're rendered speechless by his inaction. He isn't tempted in the slightest, and you're not sure if you should be offended. No dragging you in front of the mirrors, demanding you to show him exactly how you touch yourself. He leads you out of the room, completely unruffled.

As you both head back to check on the crew, one last thought occurs to you. The final card. You pull your phone out quickly, opening Victor's chat and tapping the icon for attaching images.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” you begin, watching everyone run around as they pack up, and then you hit send. “It happened yesterday too, in the afternoon.”

Victor stops in his tracks as his phone vibrates. “But you were here yesterday afternoon.” He's still distracted by your words as he checks his messages, and you assume that's why he doesn't realize what he's looking at right away. You barely catch the way his breath hitches in his throat and his fingers tighten around the device, his fixed on the screen.

“Mhm. I was just so tense.” You study him as several emotions flit through his eyes in quick succession, and then his expression smooths out into something carefully measured and blank as he puts his phone back in his pocket, giving you a tight smile.

“Glad I could help.”

You feel like screaming, and not in the way you wanted to. Your grand plans of making Victor snap, lose control and take you in a shadowed corner of the building have turned to dust. Not even a picture of you, reflected in several mirrors with your hand up your skirt, could do it. And you'd wasted so much time on experimenting with the angles too. The aesthetic! Not even a compliment? You watch sullenly as the director comes up to him, drawing him into a chat easily.

‘I mean, I tried,’ you think resignedly, and go help with pack up. 'What does a girl have to do to get some dick around here?' Your shoulders remain slumped with disappointment throughout the process of wrapping up, and it's only when everyone's trickling out that the first seeds of doubt begin to bloom. The sky has cleared up and the fresh smell of rain still lingers in the air when you turn to the director.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

Jason nearly trembles with the force of what looks like excitement. "Actually, ___!Oh, we're so lucky–we don't have to go!"

"What do you mean? We still need to finalize the next location," you ask with no small amount of confusion. You've already packed.

"Yes, but I was just talking to Victor, and I think we’ve found the perfect location! We can go next week, he said he'll take care of it."

"He will?" you ask numbly, turning to the man in question who has just stepped up to stand next to you.

"Yes! I'll text you the details. I'm so glad you invited him. Thank you!" He takes your hands in his and shakes them enthusiastically, contrasting greatly with the sinking sensation in your gut. "What a great man!"

You watch mutely as he turns to Victor, who waves off the other man's praises with a small smile. A hand settles briefly on your shoulder, and you turn around to see Anna grinning at you. "Need a ride back home?"

"Yeah, actually-" you pause and look back over your shoulder, your eyes locking with a pair reminiscent of wild storms. "Uh, I think Victor's going to take me home."

"Oh?" Anna asks just as a hand settles on your lower back.

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll get her home in one piece," Victor assures her, an odd twinkle in his eye as Anna laughs in response.

"Oh, you two! Alright, have a good night."

You wish everyone else a good night, aware of the curious eyes boring into your backs as you both walk away. Your heart thumps loudly as you wait for him to say something, but Victor only makes idle chit-chat as he drives. How you feel about the filming, the cast, the predicted responses. He's at complete ease. It's when you're back in the main city, and you've relaxed into your seat. that he chooses to ask you something different.

"I was wondering if you'd like to stay over tonight. Now that you're free tomorrow, I mean." His tone remains casual, his eyes staying on the road as you perk up. "We haven't gotten much time together this month."

"Oh?"

"I baked something new yesterday, it would be nice if you could try it too," he tells you.

"Yeah, I think that's perfect!" you acquiesce at once, the prospect of getting to eat food cooked by him convincing you easily. Hopefully, after you've gotten to taste other things. "I've really missed you."

"Mm, I know." He flashes you a quick smile. "My babygirl's been misbehaving too. I think I need to make time for a quick lesson, no?"

For a moment, you think you've misheard. Your stomach tightens, and there are no words you can come up with in response, so you remain quiet. Even as he pulls up to his building and anticipation begins to pump through you like a slow drug, you think you could've imagined his words. There's an almost placid look on his face as you both enter the elevator, while you're sure you look like a nervous wreck. You shouldn't be anxious, you're getting exactly what you wanted. You've been feeling so needy it's pathetic, and Victor's going to take care of it.

Except, it didn't go according to plan, did it? You messed with him, but you had planned for him to have enough time and space to cool down while you were away. You hadn't expected him to derail the whole plan so easily.

His phone rings as he opens the door to his penthouse, and he takes the call. Thinking it must be important for him to answer right away, you take this chance to try and sneak away.

"Oh, ___?" You halt right away, but you can't bring yourself to see his expression. He's pressing the phone to his chest in an attempt to muffle his words. He drags a knuckle across the soft skin of your cheek, before a finger under your chin tilts your head up until you can look at him; he looks amused by your nervous demeanour. "Go freshen up. I want you in the living room in twenty minutes."

"O-okay." You're a little embarrassed by the high pitch of your voice, and as you hurry to his bathroom your mind races through the possibilities. An apology would have to be made, but it wouldn't be enough for him to let you off the hook. At this point, you can only appeal to the soft spot he has for you. With that thought in mind, you rush to his closet.

You clean up as well as you can within your time limit, braiding your hair back quickly, your face clear of any makeup. As you walk back into the living room, you see Victor sitting on the sofa, tapping away at his phone. Stopping by the kitchen to get you both some water, you remain silent as you come to a stop beside him and wait.

When he finally turns his phone off and leans back, you rush to get the words out. "Um, Victor, I-I'm really sorry about earlier today...I didn't mean to make you angry.”

He studies you from underneath thick lashes, stretching his neck and taking in the way the hem of his shirt falls to the middle of your thighs and the way your fingers play with it in a well-crafted picture of remorse. "I'm not angry."

"What?" you watch as he sips his water calmly.

"I'm not angry," he repeats, even though you think the dark look in his eyes says otherwise. "I understand why you did what you did."

"You do?" You curse your inability to form full sentences.

"Like I said, we've both been busy this month," he gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "You must've been frustrated."

Relief washes over you at the understanding in his voice. "I-yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just told you." He simply nods, stroking your cheek tenderly. Just as you begin to smile, his hand cups your jaw tightly, preventing any more words from leaving your lips. His grip his firm enough for your cheeks to feel squished, your lips forced into a pout. Your heart skips and drops as the tranquil curtain of his expression falls away, leaving behind something much more austere.

"Yes, you should have. I'm not angry about you touching yourself to the sound of my voice," he says, the gentleness in his tone slowly transitioning into fierceness. "I'm glad I could help." He leans into your space, his gaze locked on you, your eyes widening with panic. "What I don't appreciate is you trying to play games with me. And touching yourself in public? Where someone could have seen?"

You try to shake your head, somehow trying to convey the fact that you had been careful.

"The very thought of it..." he exhales forcefully and releases your jaw, leaning back a bit. "Now, come."

You're not completely sure he means what you think, and the thought of it sends fear and excitement racing through you. You hadn't expected things to take this turn, for him to have seen through your games so easily and taken steps to ensure you couldn't see them through. As he pats his thigh, you crawl over his lap, positioning yourself carefully until you're lying across it. He runs a hand over your back, caressing the back of your head lovingly as you try not to tremble.

"No need to be nervous. You've told me yourself–I'm a good teacher." His tone remains calm as his hand wanders over your body, sliding down the length of your spine to stroke your thighs before pulling the shirt up and dragging your underwear down roughly, baring your ass to him. Nimble fingers stroke and squeeze the plump flesh of your rear, and your breath begins to grow heavy. "Did you really think you could get away with it?"

His hand comes down on your skin in an open-handed blow, not too hard, and you jolt more from the surprise than the sting. You manage to bite back a whimper, and the way Victor's hand massages the skin feels like approval. His hand is warm, and the other settles over the back of your neck, as you rest your head over hands that clutch at the cushion.

"Tell me what you did wrong." Another slap, this time on the other cheek.

"I-I played games." You yelp at the hard smack delivered over the top of your thigh, right where it meets your ass. Your cheeks feel uncomfortably hot–both the sets.

"I know you can do better than that," he coaxes, his tone wicked. You whimper softly as he massages the stinging skin, squirming on his lap until his hand squeezes with a warning.

"I tried t-to tease you," you whisper, and he hums in approval.

"Yes, you were a filthy girl today. Tormenting me with thoughts of coming just by listening to an old voice not. And that picture," he growls. You expect the strong smack this time, your eyes brimming with tears as you try to breathe steadily. "And what should you have done instead?"

"I should've been honest." You hasten to continue when he pinches your prickling skin. "I should've told you how...how badly I needed it."

A smack, and the tears spillover. "Needed what?"

"Y-your cock, sir." It slips out automatically, and you know he likes it when he spends more time soothing your flesh.

"And the picture? Touching yourself where anyone could have walked in?" Smack. "All because you were hungry for my cock. All you had to do was ask." Smack.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I thought you w-would like it." You part your legs as his hand ventures further down; you wince when you hear him click his tongue and feel him yank at your underwear hard enough to tear it in half. In a rare show of mercy, two of his fingers probe your entrance, although you're immensely embarrassed when you realize how wet you are.

He sighs loudly, sounding disappointed. "Here I am, trying to teach you something, and look at you. You're dripping." If you hadn't known him as well as you do, you wouldn't have been able to detect the pleased edge to his voice. "Answer me honestly. If I hadn't put a stop to your misbehaviour, would you have continued while you were away?"

You freeze in place, blinking through the blurriness as you remember the videos you had planned to film while you were beyond his reach. A gentle pinch of your clit has you moaning, scrambling to get hold of your thoughts, which becomes more difficult when his finger pushes into you.

"I want an answer."

"Y-yes, sir. I was going to..." He continues to slide his finger in and out, rubbing along your walls firmly.

"More pictures?"

"Yes...and videos," you whimper. He only hums thoughtfully, pulling his finger out, and in the next second, he delivers a loud smack on your throbbing cunt.

You can only sob as your mind blanks, trembling in earnest as you struggle to breathe. "I-I'm sorry, sir. Please...I'll be good, I-I promise."

"Shh," he slides two fingers along your heat, rubbing gently. "What do you want?"

"Please...please make me come," you beg, squeezing your walls tightly. The drag of his fingers over your slit is slow, achingly slow, but you don't dare move.

"Alright. Mouth?" The thought of his tongue on you nearly makes you come right there, but you manage to remember what you had been aiming for earlier.

"Could I...could you..." you stumble over your words, frustrating yourself more, but the hand now stroking the stinging flesh of your rear is patient. "Please fuck me. Please. Please."

"Hmm. We'll see." He manoeuvres your body until you're curing into his chest and you feel as if you could pass out from the force of your relief–until he continues. "But first, get on your knees."

You know your face is set in disbelief and despair as you lock eyes with him, but he just gazes back steadily. You know it's better to go along with what he says and be rewarded. You've had enough of the punishment, and you'll do whatever it takes to get to the goal. With his help, you're soon kneeling between his legs, grateful for the plush rug cushioning your knees. Victor continues to look at you expectantly, prompting you to unbuckle his belt as swiftly as you can. Before you can unzip him, he stops you.

"Not yet."

Uncertain of what he means, you remove your hand from his crotch. His fingers slide into your hair, tightening until you feel the sting, and pull you forward until your nose brushes against the soft fabric of his pants. You can feel the way it strains against the restricting cloth, and it makes your mouth water. You mouth at his clothed erection and he loosens his grip on your hair, content to watch you trace his bulge with your lips for a long moment.

"Now."

You scramble to obey, unzipping him with shaky fingers and pulling his pants down along with his boxer briefs, eyes fixed on the way his cock bounces, it's head glistening temptingly. You can't help the hungry kisses you plant along his muscled thighs, barely refraining from sinking your teeth into the firm skin. Resting your chin on his knee, you peer up at him for the next order.

Victor inhales sharply, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl. Suck." The first taste of him on your tongue is salty, and you suck on his tip softly, pleased at the soft groan he lets you hear. "Deeper. Don't use your hands." You take his cock in until it hits the back of your throat, trying to relax your jaw around it. As you begin to bob your head up and down, his hips begin to thrust shallowly. Your fingers dig into your thighs, fighting the urge to touch him, and you keep a smooth pace.

Until a hard thrust has you choking on his length, over and over again.

"See, that's the problem, babygirl," he growls, cupping the back of your head as his cock hits the back of your throat painfully. "If you insist on acting like a disobedient slut, then I'm going to have to treat you like one."

You're unsure if you're really crying or if your eyes are just watering from the force of his thrusts–not that it really matters. He stills when he's deep in your mouth, watching you struggle to breathe and keep your mouth open. "You have to show me you deserve to have my cock in you."

He pulls out of your mouth, his fingers pumping his length urgently as you cough pitifully. "Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out."

His words are a hot jolt in your core, and you obey him immediately, with your eyes still watery and your jaw still aching. Your walls squeeze around nothing as he comes on your tongue, and despite your attempts at catching all of it, some dribbles down your chin and cheek. And still, you wait.

"Swallow." You do so, wiping the rest off your skin as best you can and licking it off your fingers. Every bit of it seems worth it when you see the glazed look in Victor's eyes, and the little smile curving his lips up as he watches you lick enthusiastically.

He pulls you back onto his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back gently as you accept the glass of water he hands you, taking only a small sip before slumping into his chest. You stay there for a while, your ear pressed against the skin over his heart, and you feel it gradually slow down from its quick thumping.

You gather the remnants of your resolve and tug at his shirt. "Sir–pease fuck me." You feel him pause against you, and then shake as he begins to laugh.

"Ah, you're so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock that badly?" he teases, as if he doesn't already know how desperate you are.

"Yes. Please."

"And what if I don't want to give it to you?"

You know you're way past feeling any embarrassment when tears pool in your eyes, the depth of your need endless and the prospect of it remaining unanswered terrifying. "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything." Thumbs sweep away the tears sliding down your cheeks, and you feel his lips on your forehead.

"Don't worry, I was just teasing," he assures you, his previously rough tone taking on a soothing note. "I could never leave my babygirl in such a state. You've more than earned it." He helps you slide your knees apart until they rest on either side of his hips, kissing you softly the whole time. As he pushes through your swollen lips, sliding into the hilt with little resistance, you think you could stay like this for the rest of your life, keeping his cock inside you and his arms around you. He pulls you to rest against him, adjusting himself until he's able to begin thrusting with progressively stronger thrusts. "Is this what you wanted?"

You moan nearly incoherently, nodding fervently. His hands cup your ass, and the nexus between the pleasure from him fucking you and the pain from the stinging skin of your ass makes your eyes roll back into your head. He uses the grip on your cheeks to bounce you on his cock, syncing the motion with his thrusts. "A-all I wanted..."

"It's yours. All you have to do..." he presses his face into your hair, driving his hips up into yours relentlessly. "...is ask." He keeps you in place with one arm, and then there are fingers rubbing tight circles into your clit and beginning the start of your end, as you begin to shatter into pieces. You forget everything but the heat pumping into you, working you through the daze, warm arms and soft lips slowly putting you back together. You barely register the deep groaning he's unable to suppress as his pace kicks up to rush to the finish line, as you press lazy kisses up his throat.

"Could I ask for one more thing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and your lips brush against his earlobe, teeth scraping against the tender skin as he gasps. "Sir?"

"Anything," he rasps out, the flush on his cheeks spreading down to his chest. "Anything."

"Could you come in me?" you murmur. "Just...fill me up. Till the last drop. Please?"

You can't help but smile at the curse that leaves his mouth, and the bruising kiss he pulls you into as he fulfils your request, his thick seed filling you in quick, hot spurts. Neither of you pulls away even once he grows soft within you, losing yourselves in the meeting of your mouths until you can’t keep your head up and let it fall onto his shoulder.

“I’ve got you. You did so well, sweetheart,” Victor murmurs into your hair as you smile sleepily. “Let’s get some lotion on this cute butt, hmm?”

The laugh you’re startled into turns into pained croaks as your throat protests the action.

“And some tea, I see. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” He carries you to the bedroom carefully, holding you close as if in possession of priceless jewels. You spread out over his bed on your stomach, letting your body melt into the sheets. A pleased sound leaves your lips when you feel him rub the cool lotion into your abused skin.

You’re not aware of how much time has passed when you’re startled awake, and look up to see Victor smiling apologetically at you from his seat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You crawl forward towards him, letting him pull you up so you can curl into a ball between his legs. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, the cotton fabric soft and soothing on your skin. “I made you some tea.”

The first sip is painful, but within a few more you’re able to swallow with some relief. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if you feel up to eating something.”

“Mm.” With the taste of honey on your tongue, you nuzzle his neck as he pulls a blanket over you. His arms are warm and reassuring around your tired body. “I wanted to have sex in the mirror room.”

“I know.”

“Mean.”

“I’m not that easy, darling,” he says imperiously, soft lips brushing your temple. “If you want me to drop my pants in public, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc li zeyan

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kyra-bane · 4 years

Text

the old guard - kinktober day 3 - across the fire

rating: explicit

pairing: joe/nicky

prompt: masturbation

extra tags: pwp; pre-slash; pre-canon; pining (because ofc)

word count: 1810

notes: follows on from (not) sight unseen but you don’t have to have read that to get this.

read on ao3 or keep reading below

It has been two months since Nicolò confessed to spying on Yusuf.

Two months, and they still sleep beside each other every night; Nicolò often wakes to Yusuf’s arm tight around his waist, their legs tangled, and he is ever thankful for Yusuf being slower to wake because it gives him a chance to deal with the inevitable consequences of a warm body that close.

Who is he lying to?

The inevitable consequences of having Yusuf’s warm body, specifically, that close.

Nicolò misses the time before he knew, before he spied, when he could nurture his neglected infatuation – for that is what it is; he is not a fool – and pretend it was simply a blossoming friendship, the love that was borne between brothers.

Now, every night is torture – when he does not dream of the two women, then he dreams of Yusuf, and those dreams are becoming decidedly carnal in nature. He tries not to think on them, but during the day, as they make their way through the desert, he finds himself wondering why he always pictures himself on his knees, why he always dreams of Yusuf above him, around him, inside him…

He wakes sometimes aching for it, hips moving of their own accord, and on those mornings he is stubborn, surly, though he can never give Yusuf a good reason why.

Not that the man in question has noticed, of late. He still wakes later than Nicolò – grazie a Dio – but these past five days, he has been watching Nicolò with dark, liquid eyes and has not offered him a smile. It is unusual, for sure, but Nicolò dare not ask after the core problem, mostly because he still fears he missed something when they spoke after his confession.

Today has been particularly terrible. Yusuf has upgraded from terse silence to choice, cutting remarks, and Nicolò considers, more than once, simply riding back the way they came. Their agreement to travel together has always been a tentative one; but then he thinks, again, that they will likely see each other another time, even if that is hundreds of years from now, and he would rather have this conversation sooner than later.

It does not mean he will not put it off one more day.

They dismount for the night, the temperature beginning to drop, and as Yusuf builds a fire, Nicolò rolls out his bedroll. They eat and Yusuf is kind enough to tell Nicolò they are on track, which means the supplies they have will last long enough, something he is glad of – he has died of thirst before and it is not an experience he is keen to repeat.

Still, when he sees Yusuf lay his bedroll out on the opposite side of the fire – not next to Nicolò’s, as has become usual – a hurt like he has never felt before winds its way through him.

“What are you–”

“We can bear to stand one night apart,” Yusuf says quickly, though he does not meet Nicolò’s eyes and he does not say his name. Has not said his name for five days, in fact.

“I know,” Nicolò says.

“There has not been a traveller pass this way in days, besides,” Yusuf adds. He appears to be building himself up for an argument – but Nicolò does not wish to argue, not when he is unsure what it is about, so instead he simply nods.

“Alright,” he says. Then, because he is feeling brave, adds, “If you get cold, I am here.”

Yusuf does meet his eyes then and he does not smile but something about his expression makes Nicolò think he said the right thing.

“I know.”

***

Sleep does not come easily for Nicolò, some nights, and it is worse tonight, without the familiar heat and weight of Yusuf at his back. He is lying on his back because he does not want to face Yusuf across the fire but does not want to turn his back on him, either, so he sees only the stars above.

They are astonishingly clear and he wants to remark on it – perhaps he would, if Yusuf were behind him – but instead he traces constellations he barely remembers, making up new ones just for the fun of things.

He freezes when he hears a noise. He has not heard anyone approach, and he is certain he would, which means it could only be Yusuf.

Nicolò all but holds his breath, straining to hear. One of their horses shifts in the sand. Nothing else.

Until he hears it again and when he realises he recognises the sound, his heart picks up abruptly.

A moan. Just like he heard back in their lodging, only quieter, muffled, as though Yusuf has a hand over his own mouth.

Nicolò closes his eyes and the sounds are clearer now – a small hitch in Yusuf’s breathing, the shift of his clothes against his bedroll and, underneath all of that, the rhythmic slide of skin on skin.

Nicolò opens his eyes again, cheeks flaming. It is, again, something he has heard before, but never from Yusuf and it has never affected him like this. His own cock is stirring against his thigh and he is sure Yusuf is struggling to stay quiet, moans and whimpers slipping into that quiet space between them.

Is this what has had Yusuf so on edge these past days? He almost wants to laugh; as if he has not been running off to do the same thing almost every morning – except then he feels bad again. He knows Yusuf has not taken another lover since Nicolò saw him together with the stranger and is that because of what he did? Yusuf had said he did not mind, truly, but what if that was all a lie?

Yusuf moans again, a little louder, and Nicolò reaches into his leggings before he can think it through. Like the first time, he is already wet at the head and he slides the slick along his length, does the best he can to spread his legs apart without making any noise.

He feels instantly guilty, but the guilt does nothing to cool his lust and every noise Yusuf allows to escape only makes his grip firmer, his hand move faster. What would it be like, to have Yusuf’s hands on his skin? What if he could swallow every moan, every whimper?

The thought has him moaning, too, and he realises at once that it was far too loud when Yusuf goes silent across the ashes of the fire.

Nicolò squeezes his eyes shut. He is certain Yusuf can hear the way his heart is thudding against his ribs, and he wonders if he will simply get up and leave – Nicolò would certainly not follow.

“I was beginning to think you never did this at all,” Yusuf says and Nicolò shudders at the sound of his voice. He is not disgusted, not mocking. Instead, his voice is rough and deep and sounds almost fond.

“I am still human,” Nicolò replies, then adds, “I think,” because he is sure it will make Yusuf laugh. He is warmed when the thought comes true, but Yusuf’s laugh also makes his cock twitch in his hand and he has to bite his lip to keep himself quiet.

Yusuf lets out a heavy breath, as if thinking, and then asks, “What do you think of, Nico?”

What, not who and Nicolò will forever be grateful for that. He cannot give Yusuf the whole truth, not yet; but he can offer a small, secret part of himself. He owes Yusuf that – but it is more – he wants Yusuf to know, though he cannot yet articulate why.

“A man,” he admits.

Yusuf is quiet for a moment. “Is that new?” he asks, finally, and Nicolò flushes at the question he is not asking.

“Not particularly,” he replies.

“And what do you imagine, with this man?”

Yusuf’s voice has deepened again and Nicolò is almost sure he’s touching himself. He remembers, vaguely, the outline of Yusuf’s cock, imagines for a second taking it in his mouth, and holds the base of his own cock tight to stave off his pleasure.

“I imagine myself on my knees,” he says and this is madness, but the voice that would usually tell him it is a sin to have these thoughts has been all but silent for months now. “I imagine what he might taste like, how my jaw might ache but I wouldn’t care because…”

He’s stroking himself again and he knows Yusuf is too; he can hear him. Yusuf groans. “Why wouldn’t you care, Nicolò?”

“Because I want to please him,” Nicolò says and it takes all his self-control not to say, I want to please you. He does, he knows it, but he is not certain of how well-received he might be and he cannot shake off the fact that there are even more complications.

Yusuf is panting up toward the sky, his hand still moving, and Nicolò moans a little, at that; Yusuf makes a choked-off sound. “Oh, I bet you would, habibi,” he says a moment later and Nicolò cants his hips upwards; he wants a cock – Yusuf’s cock – in his mouth, in his hand, in his–

“Yusuf, I’m–” He groans, cuts himself off, because he isn’t sure if this is too far but Yusuf huffs out a laugh and moans himself.

“Are you close, hayati?” he asks and Nicolò doesn’t know what that word means. “Keep going, you sound so pretty, let me hear you–”

Nicolò’s toes curl, his back arches, and he cries out as he comes all over his hand and stomach. From the sounds across the fire, Yusuf follows on his heels, letting out a garbled stream of Arabic that Nicolò, still trying to catch his breath, cannot hope to follow.

For a moment, they both lie there, several feet apart, and Nicolò debates the wisdom of cleaning himself off, moving his bedroll…

“Go to sleep, habibi,” Yusuf murmurs, and he sounds as he does when they wake each morning, when he is not fully alert but knows he does not have to be because Nicolò is there. Nicolò is not sure when he made it clear he would throw himself between Yusuf and danger but he cannot regret the man knowing.

“Yusuf?” he says. He does not know what question he is asking.

“Everything is fine,” Yusuf replies and he really is close to sleep now, Nicolò can tell. “I’m sorry for being… We can talk about it in the morning, if you like.”

Nicolò hums in reply. He already knows they will not. Not tomorrow morning, at least.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, comfortable in the knowledge that Yusuf will be by his side tomorrow and the next day and the next.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #pre-canon #pre-slash #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #fanfiction #fanfic

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chapter One

Ao3, MasterPost, Chap.2, Chap.3

Relationships: Eventual Analogince, implied Moceit

I usually have new stuff up on Wednesdays, Sorry this is late. I hope the length and angst will make up for this slight :) Also, because of how long this fucker is, I did not go in and manually add italics, so you can just. Imagine them there when you need them.

Warnings: Panic attack (?), overworking oneself, self-hatred and insecurity, Excessive Amounts of Hurt/comfort, eventual friends-to-lovers, slow burn, arguing, crying, angst w/ a happy ending, swearing, creative blocks, mentions of isolating oneself, excessive hugging.

Word Count: 6,396

What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not?

Well, if you're Logan Sanders, a metaphysical representation of the logical thinking of one Thomas Sanders (and you are, for the purposes of this story), then you book it down the hall in a desperate effort to find someone more emotionally competent to solve the problem.

The search is short, lasting just to the bottom of the stairs. As soon as your feet touch down on the living room carpet, your haste brings you slamming into just the side you were looking for. Hands wrap around your middle, narrowly stopping you from stumbling over.

“Geez, L, what’s the-” Virgil doesn’t finish his sentence, his expression wrinkling in concern when he sees your face. He leans down to your level, his gaze flickering over you to search for injuries.

You take a step back and shake your head, struggling to explain.

“Roman- I- He-” you’re supposed to be articulate, intelligent, eloquent- but when it comes to feelings, you never are. You never have been. You try so hard nowadays, but God, do you still need help sometimes. Like these times. These confusing, awful times when you hear dear sweet Creativity sobbing self-deprications loud enough to be heard from well outside of his room, many of which are dramatized repetitions of things that you have said to him.

“Is he okay?!” Virgil, bless him, snaps you out of the oncoming mental panic before it renders you any more useless.

“Physically, yes- as far as I know- but emotionally, well-” you cut off, terrified of choking up. He seems to catch your meaning, though.

Virgil doesn’t ask any follow up questions. He grabs your arm and the room blurs. Static hisses against your ears and pricks at your skin, this form of transportation being mostly foreign to you. You don’t even rise up, merely popping into existence right in front of Roman’s door. Virgil throws it open before you have the chance to react.

Roman doesn’t notice the increased population of his room, which is concerning. His back is to the door as he works fervently at his desk, but evidently not making progress, shaking as he is. He’s muttering under his breath, much quieter than what you’d overheard before, but you can hear distinct utterances like ‘unrealistic… overused… disappointment…’ et cetera, et fucking cetera.

“Roman, what happened?” Virgil’s voice is distorted, loud and quiet all at once. You barely keep yourself from covering your ears.

Roman clamps his mouth shut mid-wail, his hands spasming in surprise against his desk. His quill drops to the paper with a soft clatter, a sound that echoes about the walls. Then, the only noise left is his staggering breathing.

Slowly, Roman peers over his shoulder at you, eyes puffy and red with mascara practically dripping down his chin.

A gasp draws from you, against your will, at the sight.

Roman makes some strangled throat-clearing sounds before trying to speak.

“Oh, hey-”

“Nope, none of that,” Virgil is across the room in two strides, effortlessly taking the lead in this situation. You can’t push yourself any further into the room, but you do shut the door behind you. Probably best not to involve any of the more unpredictable sides in what was sure to be an… emotionally charged discussion.

Roman looks absolutely mortified, jolting up from his chair and backing into the wall like a cornered animal. With distance between himself and Virgil reestablished, he then buries his face in his hands. He trembles like a leaf caught in the wind of fall, and he’d probably crumble just as easily.

Many times in your life, you’ve wished that you couldn’t feel. You even had yourself convinced that you couldn’t, for a while there. Now, all you wish is to know how to feel correctly. You’re meant to know things, Logan, aren’t you?

“Alright, so I’ve been having a bit of a rough time,” Roman’s voice cracks and wavers when he speaks, “It’s just writer’s block. Sure, I got a tad bit frustrated- but I’ll be back on track in no time, I promise! You needn’t concern yourself with my momentary lapse, I’ll have a new story for you by Saturday at the latest!”

He’s looking at you. Virgil is standing right next to him, but he’s looking at you, all the way across the room. He’s trying to… appease you? Reason with you? Give you what he thinks you want?

Say something, Logan.

“You need to take a break, Ro,” Virgil’s voice slips back to normal, “C’mon, you’re overworking yourself,” he tries to be nonchalant, but it’s obvious just how concerned he is. You can hardly blame him. When he reaches his hand out, Roman recoils, showing his face enough to see the guilt written across it.

You need to say something, goddammit.

“I can’t just ‘take a break’,” he spits, “I can’t stop now. I need to get this done first- I’ll stop when I finally do this properly. So, maybe never, right?” He laughs, horrible and twisted, and he looks at you because he’s really, truly asking you. Is he really expecting you to agree? Is that the impression you’ve left him with?

You say something.

“This is all my fault.”

Clearly, neither of them expected that. You press on.

“Your worth as a side-” no, not quite right, “-Your worth as a person is not measured solely by your productivity. I know we’ve talked before about the damages of excessive perfectionism, but I know I may not have been effective in ‘showing not telling’ that your ideas don’t need to be flawless. My harshness. My Coldness. I thought I was doing better, but obviously... I was wrong.” Again.

Virgil looks half-way to anger, but it’s unclear what he’s directing it towards. You aren’t sure of anything right now, really, except for the general upset tugging at your stomach.

“L, no, if this is anybody’s fault- it’s mine,” he turns to Roman, and what. “I didn’t know how hard you were taking all this. Dude, I had no idea. But I owe you an apology, I have for a while, for making fun of you about your insecurity. Like, kind of a lot. Long after you stopped doing it to me. Honestly, I can’t believe that I didn’t realize how much it was actually getting to you.”

“What? Virgil, I truly appreciate what you are trying to do, but I was clearly the one who pushed Roman too far,” you find the courage to step a little closer as you argue Virgil’s point, spurred on by how ridiculous you find this exchange.

“Well, I mocked his sensitivities. This is my responsibility!”

“But you didn’t know you were doing that- I acted like I didn’t care for him, and now he thinks I don’t! I am doubtlessly the one to blame.”

Virgil looks ready to snap back, and you’d be just as ready to retort, but a quiet sniffle alerts both of your attention to the matter still at hand. Roman, standing back against the wall, growing increasingly bewildered. He’s still crying, a surprisingly open display for a prideful trait such as himself, but you get the impression that he simply can’t hold it back anymore. You can see him squirm under Virgil’s and your gazes.

“It- It’s nice, that you both are attempting to take the blame for my failings, but you don’t have to. I can figure this out for myself. Then, I’ll finally prove myself to you, and no one will need to worry about anything. Which is why I need to keep working.”

“You have proven yourself to me,” Virgil darts from the desk to Roman. He grabs the trait’s ink-stained arm, gaze fierce and unyielding.

“Why, then,” Roman mutters, eyes downcast, “doesn’t it feel like I have?”

“I never tried to do right by you. Like you did for me.”

You watch them sway, awkward, and finally, finally push movement into your legs. You step to Roman’s other side, much slower. It probably appears to be deliberate, but in truth you just feel unsure. You place your hand on his shoulder in a way that is hopefully comforting.

“The same, in a different sense, is true for myself. But if you would allow us to make it up to you…?” you aren’t sure where to go from there. Virgil nods, though, granting you a hint of pride. You don’t quite buy it when he says he’s part of the problem, but you’d rather not start any arguments at this particular moment.

Roman won’t look at either of you for longer than a second, like he’s not sure if you’re serious. Just so he knows that you are, you gesture to your necktie, giving him the tiniest smile.

He buckles to the ground immediately, a mess of sobs, the both of you letting yourself be dragged along. He clings to Virgil, and you try to keep an arm around him as well. He needs all the support he can get, really.

“I-I’m so so-rry, I don’t- I-”

Virgil shushes him and shoots you a deeply concerned look: This is really bad. I’m not letting him go. You rub Roman’s back as he shakes and return your friend’s gaze with a nod: I’m not either. We’re going to help him. Don’t worry.

The three of you sit there for what feels like hours as he cries, and cries, and cries. None of you say a word, letting him get it all out. You let him hold onto you- you hold him as well, because you’re nearly as dismayed and unsure as he is.

But eventually, you need to talk. Once he finally settles, his head resting against your collar and his legs splayed across Virgil’s lap, it’s you who gets the proverbial ball rolling.

“You already know that overworking yourself leads to exhaustion, which in turn leads to an overall drop in productivity and quality of work,” Roman’s eyes fill with guilt, but you’re quick to elaborate, “but that isn’t at all my primary concern. I won’t carry on acting like it is for a moment longer, now that I see how it’s hurting you. Hurting you is something I would never intend. You mean so much to me. There are so many arguments I could use to convince you why you need to give yourself a break, but I’ll settle with this: a hypothetical ‘perfect story’ is not worth your suffering, and it never will be.”

Roman looks up at you, once more crying, so that was probably a very unhelpful thing to say. But he leans into you and hugs you close, recontextualizing his emotional display. Relief washes over you.

“Thank you, Logan.”

Virgil clears his throat.

“I know I’m not as, um, articulate as Lo is, but- for what it’s worth- I care about you, too, and all.”

You stretch out the arm that you had around Roman’s back, pulling Virgil into the hug. Roman lets out a shuddering breath from where he’s cradled between the both of you. It’s the deep, relieved breath that means the sobbing is through with, leaving only tired eyes and silence.

It is at this point of alleviated tension that the uncomfortable nature of the floor begins irking you. Like hell you and Virgil would live Creativity alone like this, so after brief deliberation you stand to move as a unit. An amoeba of facets making their way down the hall, in a manner likely comical (though thankfully no one is around to see). Your room is the optimal place to rest, as it eases emotions and calms overthinking minds, even if it is a little chilly.

You let your fellow traits drop down onto the couch, passing Roman the TV remote. Yes, whatever you like to watch, you inform him. Yes, really, anything, you confirm, waving your hand to conjure some blankets for them. The smile he gives you, though small, is enough to boost your hopes considerably.

You really can’t fix everything- at least not immediately. But perhaps, with Virgil to fill in your gaps, you’ll be able to make things right for the Prince.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

So looking after this insecure dumbass is totally your job now. Said dumbass, of course, disagrees strongly; he tells you he’s doing better, and thanks so much for the one afternoon of help, Virgil, but he can totally take it from here. You do not give a single shit about what Roman claims, because he is very obviously lying, because he doesn’t want to be a burden. Yeah, as if.

You’re taking care of that idiot if it kills you.

Thankfully, Logan is on the same page as you (proverbial page, as he would specify). It almost surprised you that he didn’t make himself scarce as soon as he told you about the situation, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise to have him by your side in this. Roman needs all the help he can get, and you can’t think of anyone better.

The pair of you only begrudgingly leave him alone after a sufficient several hours of Comfort Time, retreating to the hall so he can rest. He looked so fuckin’ tired, face a dull red and eyes puffy, but he was smiling. You count it as a temporary win.

The first thing that you do, naturally, is slam your back against the wall and let yourself slide down to the floor out of sheer emotional exhaustion.

Logan sits next to you, much less aggressively. It’s a nice gesture, considering how he absolutely despises sitting on the ground and this is the second time he’s had to do it in one day. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He keeps trying to say something, before clamping back down on it. You bump your shoulder against his, telling him that whatever it is, you’re listening.

“I feel-” which is already a testament to how serious he’s taking the situation- “horrible.”

“Yeah, same- I mean, big mood- no, that’s worse, fuck-” you take a deep breath, hitting your head back against the wall, “I mean, me too. So, at least there’s that, right?”

Logan shoots you one of his patented Microscopic Smiles.

“I suppose that counts for something, yes.”

You manage a laugh, leaning even more against your friend. You’ve got a whole contradictory bundle of feelings coiled up in your chest, and it sucks, but also it’s a relief, but also it’s the worst thing ever. You exhale slowly, your eyes falling shut.

“I don’t wanna leave him alone, ya know?”

“I know. We’ve done all we can do for now, though.”

“I guess.”

“I’m just glad he let us help at all.”

“Well, assuming we did help. Who knows, we could’ve made him feel a million times worse by confronting him, and now-”

He cuts off your spiraling immediately.

“But we didn’t. He clearly needed intervention by that point. Besides, If we’d been making it worse, it’s unlikely he would’ve let us stay for so long. Nor would he have accepted your plan of ‘helping him deal with all this shit from now on, no matter what he says.’”

“Right,” you take another deep breath, “You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

You elbow Logan in the side, playfully. He smiles again, wider and brighter in a way that most others probably wouldn’t notice. It could, from some angles, in the right lighting, possibly maybe be considered a little bit pretty. Not that you think about things like that, of course, that would just be weird.

You stop leaning so heavily against Logan, only to find how much your back hurts from sitting in the hall. Come to think of it, the hall might not be the best place to calm down from emotionally charged interactions. The only issue is that your room is literally the exact opposite of a good place to chill out right now, and you’re reluctant to move.

“Hey, uh, would it be okay if I- like, my room isn’t the best for times like this, and I-”

Logan’s already standing, taking your arm to help you up.

“Come on. I’ll set up the Planetarium for us.”

“Thanks,” God, you’re thankful for somebody like him. Such a simple word, when you aren’t crazy about spelling out all of the gratitude and nervous tension that lays behind it, and he picks up on the layers perfectly. He gets it- he gets you.

Things will be okay.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

Once upon a time (ha), you felt appreciated. Of course you did, else how would you remember it so vividly? How would you long for it so desperately? Yes, you can safely say that you, Roman Sanders, had once been cared for. But that was countless screw-ups ago, before hundreds of your careless insults, your many vicious words followed by weak apologies and unchanging ways. The distant past of a disgraced royal- one far too imperfect, far too cruel to be forgiven without first proving himself time and time again.

That’s what you’d thought, anyway. When you expressed such beliefs to other sides for the first time, just a few mornings after said sides comforted you in the midst of a breakdown, they told you it was the stupidest thing they’d ever heard. Direct quote from Virgil.

It was stupid, apparently, because you were forgiven so very long ago, and you are actually considered to be better now than you were then. It shakes you up inside to think about. In a good way, for once.

They hover around you almost always, offering you plenty more of those somewhat aggressive reassurances whenever you give the vaguest hint of self-deprecation. You were sure they’d brush it under the rug after those first few days, perhaps even tease you about it, but it seemed that was completely false. It’s been a good week.

They’re with you this very morning, chatting idly while you wait for the kettle to shriek. You let the drone of Logan’s voice wash over you as you finish fixing your tea. You don’t believe all of their reassurances just yet, but God are you trying. You want it to be true- more than you’ve ever wanted anything- when Logan says their care is unconditional, or Virgil says that he likes spending so much time with you.

You turn around, the mug in your hands warm against your chest, and stare at the sides on the couch. The three of you are in your corner of the Mindscape; they had already invited themselves in when you awoke. You quite like that they do that- you still aren’t sure how to express that you want to be with them, without prompting. You would feel clingy. Greedy.

“Thank you,” you settle down Virgil, smiling groggily. He waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it, man. What’s on the agenda for today?”

That’s another thing. It’s not all crying and hugging, Lord knows how old that would get- but they just end up hanging out with you. Sometimes it’s just Logan, if Virgil’s having an off day, or sometimes it’s the opposite, when Logan’s particularly busy, but you really like it best when it’s the three of you.

That didn’t used to be unusual; you used to spend all of your time surrounded by all of your family (or most, in light of recent acceptances), laughing and joking and working all together. Then, slowly, you stopped, just as things became more complicated for everyone. Camaraderie was a waste of valuable time, time that could be used coming up with ideas that would finally be good enough. They got the hint easily enough, allowing you to isolate yourself until you were perfect for them.

No, you aren’t thinking about that right now! It isn’t the time to worry about how this will all have to end eventually. You’ll have to think about it soon, but not now, dammit!

You swing back a sip of scalding cinnamon tea, letting it clear both your throat and your mind.

“I have a wonderful idea for today!” You puff your chest out and straighten your back. In actuality, you haven’t had a ‘wonderful’ idea in ages, but you hope the confident stance will give you one.

It doesn’t. Logan notices this.

“I sincerely hope that this is not yet another attempt to ‘cure’ your writer’s block and attempt to get ‘back on task’?” he chides you. You falter, letting the regal pose fall away. Logan tells you that what you need is rest. You do not want to rest. But you don’t want to get lectured, either.

“I do not have any ideas for today. Or in general,” you grind out, the second part tacked on bitterly. You don’t look at them, even as Virgil knocks your elbow with his.

“Good, that means you can come play Scrabble with us.”

The hesitance must show on your face, because Logan sighs and adds:

“I will allow you to use your original- completely nonsense, meaningless, irrational- words, if butchering the English language makes the game more fun for you.”

Now that. That is a tempting offer. You really would be a fool to pass it up.

You might as well indulge yourself this much, for however longer they’re willing to let you. It’ll be a nice memory to draw from when you do get back to work.

Good God, your ribs hurt. You can’t breathe.

“I’m just saying, you can’t prove that the earth is round,” Virgil claims, staring mischievously across the table at Logan. Logan fumes. It is fucking hysterical.

“That’s ridiculous! Putting aside the overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary for a moment, you can literally see the curve of the earth on the horizon!”

“Uhh, it looks pretty flat to me. I’m not buying your government propaganda, Lo,” Virgil’s very clearly trying not to chuckle, and his resolve is impressive. You’ve already been reduced to unintelligible cackling at their interaction. This exchange has brought the progress on the jigsaw puzzle you’d been solving together to a screeching halt, but you couldn’t care less.

“What do you mean ‘propaganda’?! This is common knowledge!”

Virgil cracks, bursting into raucous laughter. He grabs onto your arm as gravelly chuckles escape him, the both of you scrambling to keep upright. Logan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Unbelievable. Infuriating. Intolerable, the both of you.”

You compose yourself just enough to stick your tongue out at him teasingly, before hunching right back over into your giggle fit.

Then, you notice it as it happens. The aggravated expression etched across Logan’s face shifts, but he keeps staring at you. It’s inscrutable, and also weird.

“What’re you looking at?” you challenge, voice broken up by subsiding laughter. You turn your head to Virgil, as if to say wow, what a nerd, huh?, only to find him staring at you with much the same expression.

“Guys? Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Anxiety amends.

“I’m sure we were both just caught off guard, is all,” Logic adds, his attention redirected from you to the carpet hastily.

“In a good way, though. It’s nice to see you smile- ugh, that sounds so weird, I just meant- it’s been a long time since you’ve. Done that.”

You blink, taken aback, only to feel the dull ache in your face. You reach a hand up, pressing a finger to the corner of your upturned lips. It really has been a while since you’ve laughed like this, hasn’t it?

A selfish, malicious creature that stalks around in your chest tells you to stop smiling. If you’re happy it means that their job is done, then you’ll be all alone again. Is that what you want, Roman?

You almost listen to it. Before-

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what you said just because Roman laughed, V.”

“Nah, you never forget anything, O keeper of memories,” Virgil flicks a puzzle piece at Logan, smirking just enough to show off his sharp teeth.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” he flicks another puzzle piece. Logan’s face twitches in what is either a barely suppressed smile or a grimace, but likely a combination of the two. When Virgil finally aims a piece to hit his face, he snaps, throwing little bits of the jigsaw back at the anxious trait.

“Wow, L, you’re really just throwing away all our progress like that? Tsk, tsk.”

“I will end you,” he lands one smack on Virgil’s nose, earning a hiss. The puzzle continues to be destroyed by their squabble.

You don’t think you could stop yourself from beaming at them, even if you wanted to. Toothy, confident, amused- oh, how you’ve missed this.

How you’ve all missed this.

It hits you with the swiftness of a bullet, right when you least expect it. You’re just sitting in the living room, idly sketching as you half-watch TV with Patton beside you on the couch. You offer a laugh when he pipes up with a pun based on whatever’s on screen, but your mind is far elsewhere.

You’ve got an idea. A really good one.

You’ve filled up a page with mindless doodling while the thought was still forming, for fear of jumping on it too suddenly and losing the inspiration, but you find it solid as you continue to mentally examine it. Perhaps a bit overeager, you flip the page, scrawling excited concept sketches across the thick, rough paper. The details flow and evolve in your mind’s eye, and it becomes something of a struggle to hold back your creative aura from infecting the common area.

That confident smile, one you’ve been wearing more and more often these past few weeks, graces your face once more. The semi-subconscious expression brings a memory from just nights ago: Logan told you that your face was built to wear such a grin (‘Speaking architecturally, of course,’ he cleared his throat awkwardly, ‘The form that you’ve chosen for yourself is suited to it. Objectively.’).

You find your smiling widening, just as it had when he first told you.

So caught up in your art, half-listening to Patton, and also vaguely following along with the show he’s watching- you don’t even glance up when Virgil rises up and seats himself at the arm of the couch. It’s the way he huffs a laugh at something Morality says that first catches your attention, and suddenly he’s got all of it.

“Virgil!”

He grimaces at the volume, tilting his head to look at you.

“Something got you excited, Ro?”

“I’ve got a story! That is to say, I’ve got a premise, but also characters! Look- it’s- come here, let me show you what I’m drawing, it’s easier than explaining,” you chatter happily, shuffling your way to Virgil’s perch. You hold your sketchbook out to him and jump into explanations.

The drawing is messy, and not nearly finished, but it’s you and it’s good and it’s new. It’s a scene- heavily annotated to explain some of the more abstract concepts in the image- depicting an ent-like creature towering over a young woman, who holds a flower crown up to him. You tell Virgil about the story based around the two, some of the major plot points already planting themselves in your brain. You inform him that it just came to you, and you’ve got so many different ideas for what these two will do, what will happen to them, and how they’ll get out of it all. When you look up from your rambling, all the excitement slips off your face. It’s replaced by awe.

Virgil is grinning, showing a good deal more of his fangs than he usually likes to, enthusiasm dancing in his eyes. You’ve never seen him emote that much ever, not for any purpose. You would be lying if you said that those huge chompers weren’t at least a little hot.

“Okay, I totally wanna hear more, but pause for a sec. I gotta get Lo, ’kay?” And with that, he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, pausing only to toss the sketchbook back to you. You twist around, eyes wide with shock, to find Patton smiling softly at you.

“You saw that, too, right? Or have I gone mad?” you ask him, earning a chuckle.

“I think Virge is proud of you,” he shuts the TV off as he talks, moving to stand, “I am, too! It sounds really cute!”

“Thank you,” Patton arches up to stretch, tossing the remote down on the couch. “-Er, where are you off to?”

“I think I’ll let you three have the living room, to talk all about your story.”

“I’d hardly mind if you wanted to hear about it!”

His eyes dart to the side, an awkward smile stretching across his face. His noticeably pink face.

“Oh, I- I was planning on spending some time with Jan today. I was about to take off, anyhow.”

“Aah,” you start sketching again, if only to spare Patton your wolfish grin, “Well, if you’ve already got plans.”

He gives you a tiny wave, sinking out immediately. Thus leaving you alone with your thoughts. Fuck.

It crosses your mind that- now you have an idea to work on, an idea you’re proud of- your slump is over. The creative block has been cured. Logan and Virgil won’t need to coddle you anymore.

Your hand ghosts over the paper, and for a second you consider tearing it up. Pretending you lost the spark, pretending you need more time and help and companionship. Guilt rises in you at even the thought of being so selfish, the doubts and worries overpowering your former giddiness completely.

You can’t imagine anything worse than that brilliant smile Virgil gave you turning to disappointment, if you pretended to lose your inspiration. Or the disdain that would surely flash in Logan’s eyes at having his work interrupted for absolutely nothing. Plus, if you did so, what’s to stop them deeming you a lost cause and abandoning you anyway?

If you’re being honest, you need approval more than anything. And dear God, it is so close. You have to tell them, and hold on to whatever scraps of praise it earns you before the three of you revert back to normal. You’ll fall back into seclusion, as that seems to be one of the few things you’re good at, and they can actually get back to their own existences.

There’s a whoosh behind you. You spin around, forcing the tension out of your shoulders.

“Well hello there!”

“I want to hear about your story,” Logan cuts straight to the point. You couldn’t care less about his bland bluntness because he is watching at you in a way so unbearably fond. They both are. You push your reservations down and present him with your sketches, diving into what you’ve come up with so far (plus a few extra points off the top of your head, which isn’t an uncommon method for how you develop plotlines).

When you’ve finished, not quite as exuberantly as earlier, Logan continues with the theme of surprising the fuck out of you that this day has established.

He settles a hand on your upper arm, but really he might as well have swept you up in a hug. You blanch, the touch fuzzing up your brain, just like it has been doing so often now and God you don’t want to lose this.

“I told you so,” he sounds playful.

“What?” you question, vaguely dazed.

“I think that L’s saying we were right about you just needing a break. Seems like the rest cleared up your burnout pretty well,” Virgil loops around to your other side, patting your shoulder awkwardly.

The euphoria from being touched is broken once you actually manage to process the words.

“Oh! Right, yeah, I'm- I'm so excited to get back to work!”

Logan removes his hand and you burn cold.

“No, you aren't,” you hear his confusion, like he's trying to unravel why that could possibly be and wow you are not as good an actor as you’d hoped. “What's upsetting you?”

You try to say that it's nothing, but your voice pitches up embarrassingly. You clear your throat, but you can't make yourself maintain eye-contact anymore.

“Dude, you can tell us what's up. Are you just overwhelmed?” Anxiety is worried and caring in a way you didn't know he was capable of and it hurts worse because you don't know how to tell him that you're just selfish. But you knew this was coming- and you aren't going to make these two waste their concerns on you any longer. The problem has been solved, Roman, get that through your skull!

“I- I suppose I'm just- I’m lamenting the end of this. It’s unimportant.”

“You are upset about the end of your writer's block?” Logan tips his head to the side and gives you a bemused look. Frustration stabs at your skin.

“No! That's a good thing, obviously it's a good thing- I'm saying that I'm going to miss… I mean, I'd gotten used to spending time with you. The both of you,” Virgil's eyebrows shoot up, Logan squints at you, so you backpedal like there's no damn tomorrow.

“See? It was stupid, I know I can't always have all the attention, any-”

“You're right, that is stupid,” Virgil cuts you off with a grumble. You must deflate visibly, though, because his voice softens, “That you think we aren't gonna hang out with you, I mean.”

You feel something. You think it’s hope. It almost feels foreign- unbelievable, even.

“What?” a murmur, too small and doubting for you to associate with it, though it must be yours. Pathetic.

Logan leans forward, as though he's studying you. Good God, who let him be so tall?

“Were you under the impression that we were going to cease contact with you once you resumed productivity?”

“Wha- I mean- when you say it like that it sounds… bad.”

“It would be bad. It would also be incredibly manipulative; being kind to you only so as to get you back in working order, rather than being kind to you to provide genuine help.”

Virgil nods his agreement.

“Yeah, you aren't getting rid of us that easy, Romano.”

You recall the first Big Conversation you had with the two left-brained sides. They'd insisted to help you, despite your lack of understanding in the beginning why they'd do so. Similarly to that talk, this is filling you with an almost painful fondness, almost too much to bear.

“But, you already helped me, just like you said you would!”

“Why did we help you, Roman?” Logan inquires, in a way that makes you feel like you should know the answer. You do not.

“Because you were worried about me?”

“Why would we be worried?”

“Because you… felt bad for me?”

He groans, tapping Virgil on the shoulder. The anxious facet rolls his eyes.

“You're our friend and we care about you, stupid.”

You clear your throat, attempting to say that you knew that (even if that isn’t entirely true), but Logan interrupts you.

“In case it wasn’t clear why, allow us to explain: one, as I’ve stated before and will likely state again, we don’t value you for your ability to create alone.”

“Two,” Virgil cuts in, “You’re, like, fun to be around. Way less stiff than us, and honestly we probably need that.”

“Three, we were never opposed to being around you even before the- this. You claimed to like being alone. And I’ll admit I’m not the best with subtext.”

Virgil looks ready to add a fourth. You don’t let him, waving your hands wildly. If you verbalized what you meant to convey, you’d definitely start sobbing, and that’s just embarrassing. Thankfully, Anxiety seems to pick up what you’re laying down, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You take a few breaths and try to pretend that you aren’t being watched like a hawk.

Aaaand you’re already crying. That’s probably the point of no return, isn’t it?

“Ha, and I thought that you two weren’t the sentimental ones,” the effect of your teasing is ruined by how much your voice wavers, “You’re just big softies, aren’t you?”

Logan’s expression is caught somewhere between concern and confusion.

“You are quite literally sobbing? How are we-”

“Shut up,” you retort. The effect is once again ruined when he comfortingly pats your back and you absolutely fall against him.

“Wow, again? You’re really set on making a habit out of this,” Virgil hovers uncomfortably apart from the set of you, eventually landing on wrapping an arm around you. And it’s so him, that you can’t help the little chuckle that breaks through your crying. You really have been doing this a lot more than you’d like lately.

“I- I’m okay,” you stammer, “I’m good- this is- just- I’m relieved. Why am I crying? I’m happy!”

“It’s alright, man.”

“Yes, take as long as you need.”

You tear yourself away from them, scrubbing at your eyes, but grinning all the same. Your skin burns, you’re shivering, but you’re sick of clinging to them and crying and the desperation that tugs at you. You feel so many things, but there’s one that’s overpowering, one thing that’s so familiar and has been so distant. It’s a blur, a mash, but it goes something like this:

The people you care about, that you work so hard for- they aren’t going anywhere. No conditions. Logan repeats it plenty, Virgil shows it to you quietly, but only now-

Now you believe them. You feel looked after. Cared for. If you’re being bold, you could even say loved.

You feel secure.

“Thank you,” for being there, staying there, helping you, everything. You can’t thank them enough for everything.

Virgil shrugs.

“You’re worth it.”

#sanders sides #ts #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic #analogince #analogical #logince #prinxiety #panic attacks tw #cursing tw #logan #roman #virgil #patton #implied moceit #my writing

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ramblings-of-a-foolish-mortal · 4 years

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Constellations in Your Soul C3

/// Thank you so much, @aristotleisdead, I really appreciate your comment on C2. This chapter has Remus suffering from some Sensory Overload, mostly Auditory. I’m sorry it took so long to get this one written, but I appreciate anyone who’s reading what I put out. As always; comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are welcome, just please be respectful to each other and myself.///

The weeks passed slowly, though not slow enough for Remus, not slow enough for him to think about everything running through his head. Days passed where Sirius would hide pained expressions behind smiles and push his feelings behind jokes, other days Sirius appeared to actually be doing okay. Feelings of unease at Sirius’ mental state ran in circles within Remus’ mind while screaming at each other about which one of them might be correct. Remus had an easy enough time telling when something was off about Sirius, that came with practice (which he unfortunately had a lot of), but being able to discern why was a whole other issue. There was very little Remus could do to reason out why Sirius would be upset on a specific occasion because of the simple abundance of chances and circumstances that worked together to beat him down. There were a lot of words that could describe Sirius (most notably rambunctious and quick-tempered) but no one could call him weak. Not only was it untrue by his most fundamental traits, but Remus would also beat anyone who tried to say so.

No doubt he would say I’m incorrect. Convincing him that he has value will definitely take a long time…

Remus stared up at the ceiling while contemplating how to best help Sirius. He’d initially woken up from the rain outside, and now that he’d woken up, he couldn’t get back to sleep with the sounds of his friends quietly breathing and shifting around. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have annoyed him so much, but today it sounded like they were breathing next to his face from two beds over. Covering his head in pillows didn’t help, humming was worse, and there were few other noises aside from the rain outside that could drown out the incessant whistle every time Peter inhaled.

Remus stared at the ceiling, resigned to a day of hell. It’s not even down to two days before the full moon, I still have at least 4 days until then. Why am I already so sensitive? Remus let out a quiet whine, mentally complaining about how intense his senses had already become while his body prepared for the full moon.

His thoughts halted as he heard James breathing change and the sheets shift. After a moment, Remus looked over to James, who was propping himself up on an arm. James let out a booming yawn and Remus flinched away. Ow… James turned his head towards Remus, then sat up with pajamas scraping against the sheets again.

“Morning Rem-” James spoke at almost full volume, crashing into Remus’ ears as he flinched. James stopped talking as soon as he saw Remus almost move to cover his ears. His voice immediately dropped to a quiet almost mutter. “Morning Remus, how are you feeling.” Remus silently thanked him, able to hear without much more discomfort than what was normal.

“I’m alright James,” Remus offered a small smile and moved to sit cross legged on his bed. “It’s just loud in here.”

James looked at Remus apologetically, then started getting dressed for the day. By 7 everyone in their dorm room was up and ready or in the process. Remus stepped out as soon as he could, right behind James. Sirius was still getting ready, but made time to give Remus a thumbs up and a smile on his way out. James was kind and led the way to the Great Hall, breaking the crowd for Remus to walk behind him with minimal physical contact from the other students. As they neared the Great Hall, Remus could hear the hoards of students inside, their voices banded together like a waterfall roaring. The closer they got to the Great Hall, the more convinced Remus became that he wouldn’t be able to do anything once in there, assuming he could get in there at all. Once he stepped into the room, the sound seemed to double, coming from all sides. Combine that with the sight of everyone moving around, grabbing food, and knocking into their friends… It made him want to crawl to the nearest cave and stay there for a few decades. It was just so loud. Remus forced himself to stare at James’ back as he moved through students and found their seats. Remus followed close behind, grateful that James didn’t get too far ahead while moving through the hoard. He didn’t say anything nearly all of breakfast. Sirius and Peter had joined a few minutes after James and Remus had sat down, talking quieter than they normally did. Remus could tell they were making an effort, and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t focus on anything they were saying over the roar of all the other students.

Remus kept his eyes on his plate, slowly eating oatmeal while trying to tune out the students like white noise but the sounds they made were too varied, and too unstable for him to tune out. He couldn’t think with all this noise. He might be lucky enough to form half a thought before his brain whipped his attention around to someone talking or to movement caught in the peripheral of his vision. He couldn’t focus long enough for even a single thought to finish. Remus quickly grew frustrated, trying to consider his tasks for the day but unable to even start. I’ve got to turn in- What word did she just- Why is it so Loud I can’t- did he say fork or- What did they just shove in their robes-

Remus didn’t realize he was curling in on himself until Sirius gently laid down a hand where he could see on the table. Remus stared at Sirius’ hand as he grew aware that he was hunched over the table with his hands balled into fists on his pants.

“Remus,” James spoke loud enough to be heard, but not too loud, luckily. Remus was so on edge he might hit someone if they startled him. “Can we take you to the library?” Remus looked up just enough to see James robes and shirt, not wanting to uncurl enough to meet his eyes. After almost a minute he replied.

“Yeah. That’d be… good.” Remus followed James from his side of the table, Sirius and Peter mirrored them on the other side, merging with them at the end of the table near the door. Sirius stood behind Remus, and Peter stood on his side. James led from slightly to Remus’ right, slightly ahead. The halls were much quieter than the Great Hall, but they still weren’t quiet. As they entered the library, Sirius made sure to open and close the door quietly. Once they all sat down, Remus was able to calm down, lowering his head to the table and closing his eyes. He sat there for a long time, feeling his heartbeat in his neck and chest, forcefully breathing slower.. I didn’t even realize I’d started to hyperventilate until I was able to start calming down…

“Remus, are you doing any better?” Sirius was careful to speak quietly, though his voice was rough, almost like he’d been crying or screaming. Remus sat up, smiling tiredly at his friends.

“Yeah, I’m doing better. Today is going to be a long day though… “ Remus looked to Sirius, Peter, and James individually. His eyes lingered on Sirius a little bit longer, noticing the tightness in his smile and the way his eyes looked tired. He doesn’t look so good…

“It’s still 4 days away, if you’re feeling this bad now then maybe you shouldn’t go to class tomorrow.” Sirius gave a worried expression, eyebrows scrunching upwards on his face. He was right, Remus probably shouldn’t go to class for the next few days, but that would mean he had to catch up, and class usually wasn’t so bad. Most people were quiet. I might just avoid the classes I know will be too much… His mind immediately went to potions class with all those mixing smells and all the headaches.

“That… might be a good idea. But we’ll see how I’m feeling tomorrow. This might just be because I didn’t sleep well last night.” Remus offered up his alternate cause, hoping to take some of their worry away. No one really understood much about werewolves or how the cycles work other than that the cycles exist, so everything was all speculation. But that said, Remus knew this was abnormal for him, and that meant something had changed. That change could easily be his stress levels, it could also be attributed to sleep deprivation, or dreams, or some kind of sickness. Unfortunately, similar to knowledge on the cycles, this was all speculation to him. Remus glanced between his friends, trying to figure out what each was feeling. It was easy to see that Sirius wasn’t doing well, but how exactly and why was a mystery to him. James had all of his attention on Remus, trying to figure out if he was lying about being okay, no doubt. James was pretty good at telling when his friends were lying (and it was quite frustrating when trying to plan something for him. But that was beside the point.)

When Remus moved his eyes to look at Peter, he saw the shorter friend sitting up straight with his eyes locked on Remus, studying him the same way he was studying Peter. They exchanged momentary glances before breaking eye contact, there was really no point trying to find what someone was feeling while they were so intently focused on you (little else but concentration tends to show on their face.)

“Thank you for taking me out of the Great Hall, guys. I… Thanks.” Remus ran a hand through his hair for a moment, sweeping it a little to the side and out of his face. “I think I’ll stay here a little while, once I feel like leaving I might go to class. I might just go to the dorms.” He glanced at the clock, silently hoping for a reason to be alone. The universe took mercy on him. “You guys should go, class starts in a little under 5 minutes.”

Both James and Peter looked over to the clock, eyes widening when they saw the time. Sirius’ gaze lingered on Remus for a few moments longer before grabbing his bags. James, Peter, and Sirius all quietly told Remus to let them know if he needed them before exiting the library. Remus sat in the quiet of the library, finally able to breathe easily with no one close enough to him for him to hear their breathing. The sight of the peeling paint over a bookcase unfocussed and focussed again every so often as he drifted in thought. The extra look from Sirius didn’t go unnoticed by Remus, but he also tried not to linger too much on it. Sirius’ gaze could pierce you to the core if you hadn’t built a tolerance to it, and even with being as used to it as Remus was, he was still a little shaken by the intensity of it. It’d felt like those eyes were boring into him, searching for every possible discomfort or change in demeanor. God those eyes…

He spent nearly an hour contemplating Sirius’ eyes in the library before he was startled out of an almost-trance by a book clapping onto the floor. Remus nearly jumped out of his chair at the sudden loud noise, knocking over another book from the table. He quickly picked up the book, grimacing at the way his clothes shifted, before quickly walking out of the library and towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Maybe I can try to sleep now that it should be empty. At least then I won’t be so grumpy when they get back. He turned and climbed through the porthole after muttering the password, trudged up the stairs to the boys dormitory, and gently laid down on top of his neatly made covers.

His thoughts tended to swim when he was alone, especially if he was stressed, but right now all he could think of was Sirius’ eyes. A scowl appeared on his face at the realization. I’m not a bloody romance novel… And in truth, it wasn’t all that similar to the cliche. Yes, he was thinking about Sirius’ eyes, but he wasn’t pondering on the “mysterious deepness” or fawning over how one might consider them “dark swirling pools” (in fact, the idea that someone might consider Sirius’ eyes that way was faintly amusing) but rather the simple warmth in them. They were comforting because they were Sirius’, not because of the millions of different shades of brown that came out in good lighting or because they were truthfully gorgeous (though that didn’t hurt). Remus’ scowl turned to a faint smile as he turned on his side, eyes closing.

His last thought before sleep took him was a faint notion that he wanted those eyes, Sirius’ eyes, to look at him and be filled with more warmth and happiness.

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nosferatyou · 5 years

Text

New Tune: Chapter 5 (Jake Kiszka x Reader)

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of emotional abuse, and some sick guitar solos.

Summary: Two guitarists meet at a Rock Festival, only having a week with each other before they have to return to their own lives. The bond they create is unfeigned and resolute.

“You have fun last night?”

“Huh?” I look up from my guitar to see Asa, sporting a confused look on my face.

He shook his head and laughed to himself, handing his phone to me.

“You must've really gone overboard last night if you don't remember this.”

Some random Greta Van Fleet fan account had posted a video of Jake and I from the night before. The both of us jumping off stage and into the pit, and pictures of us in the mosh.

“Scroll down, there's more.” Asa suggested, waving his hand towards his phone.

I guess all these accounts tagged the whole band to get our attention, and it definitely had mine. Multiple people had taken pictures and videos of us together, some accounts more… professional than others. Many were excited to see Jake with a girl, but all were mostly confused as to why he was moshing in the first place. It cracked me up honestly. I quickly sent some of the posts to myself before handing it back over to him.

“You think this will have any repercussions?” I asked, a worried look creeping over my face.

“I doubt it, at least not for us. We barely have the following that they have, even then our publicist is so used to the shit that you get into.”

“I guess so, I just hope it isn't a problem for him. Id feel awful it was.”

“Well you'll see him later right?” Asa asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure we are just gonna laugh about it, but I honestly didn't think this would happen.”

“Y/N, everyone will have moved on by tomorrow morning, don't stress too much.

“I'll do my best.” I said meekly.

I don't even want to know if any of the articles have reached my boyfriend Sam. Knowing him he's already well aware, and seen all he can. I just don’t want to think about that right now, or any of this. The both of us should be able to have fun without it being blasted everywhere.

I glanced over to my phone, which I haven't touched since yesterday, and god knows when the last time I actually charged it was.

Asa noticed what I was looking and asked “Y/N when was the last time you checked your phone?”

“During our last practice..” I said hanging my head in shame.

He nodded, staring at his coffee, seemingly lost in thought.

“If you ignore him now he's just going to get more upset.”

“Asa, you think I didn't know that?” I snapped, my voice raising.

I caught myself and took a deep breath “I’m sorry, it's just, my patience is wearing thin, I just need to get home.”

“I don't know why you're with him, Y/N. This is abuse and you know it!” He raised his voice, feelings he was holding in finally getting let out.

“He has never hit me and he never would.” I put my guitar next to me, it doesn't seem like I will be needing it anymore.

“You know that's not what I mean. The way he treats you? The possessiveness? None of it is okay. You just outright ignoring him because its too much to handle just shows me that deep down you agree. You ignore everything that's hurting you, I've known you long enough to realize that much.”

I just stayed quiet, my head hung low. Everyone knew the truth, everything he was saying was true. I always knew it. I just. He’s what I deserve, with the way I treat myself and the life I live. It's not something anyone can handle. I'm not going to find anyone else who can. So I'm okay with Sam. He's the best I will do. At least I think he is, but I don't want to put anyone else through having to love me.

“Y/N I care about you. We all do you know? You're family and to see you put up with everything he drags you through is just…” He stopped to think of his words. “You have such a big heart, he never will deserve you.”

And with that he got up and walked to the back of the bus, not before letting out a huff and running his hands through his hair.

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I had been a bit shaky all day. Everything Asa said was starting to get to me. His words creeping through my mind every other minute, and then it’s all i could think about. Along with the drama I caused with Jake and his community, but I have to put on a happy face for the boys and it's nothing a bit of liquid courage couldn't help.

I knocked on their door three times then stepped back. Adjusting the guitar strapped to my back. All of their cheerful voices suddenly stopped before I heard someone loudly clamber their way towards the door. It swung open, almost slamming into the side of the bus. A very excited Sammy was behind it, a giant smile on his face.

“Y/N! You’re here! Come on in.”

He squished against the wall to let me in and then closed the door behind me. I was greeted with the sight of all the boys at the wrong instruments. Jake on the drums, Josh with a guitar, and Danny playing the bass. Sam ran from behind me and grabbed the mic from the stand.

“This ones for the ladies.” He said with a smooth voice, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

He counted off and they all started playing “When a man loves a woman.” Sam practically overpowered everyone else with his singing, which was arguably him just screaming the lyrics. The rest of them kept up though, which was unsurprising. Josh tripped up on his part a couple times, but for someone so new to the instrument he killed it.

They all finished off the song by just wailing on their instruments, and of course, Sam just screaming into the mic. When all was quiet he asked into the mic,

“Well?”

“Fucking fantastic, all of you. I would have brought my trumpet if I knew you guys would be doing this!”

“You play trumpet?” Inquired Danny.

“Been playing for about 15 years. I started back in high school and just never stopped.” I explained while unpacking my guitar.

“Jake you couldn't have brought around a cooler person.” Said Sam, grabbing your case and tucking it away.

“You all are way to nice. But I at least brought my guitar, so let's get to jamming.”

***

“Did you attempt to learn all of our songs before coming?” asked josh, who seemed very impressed with my skills after playing through their set list.

“Found a couple tutorials, so kind of. I also am just a professional at jamming. Don’t forget that I’m also a musician.”

“Oh it's definitely not forgotten.”

Jake stepped into the conversation asking “Think she can handle Black Flag?” A suggestive look on his face.

Him and Josh made eye contact, both nodding and looking back over to me. Man, I hate the fucking twin talk.

“I think it's right up her alley.” Josh said looking back over to me before going back to his spot at the mic stand.

They all talked among themselves for a moment before getting set up again and back in their own spots. Sam sat on the couch, Danny in the back nearer to the bunks, Josh upfront, and Jake and I standing where the table was. The amps were everywhere and kind of evenly distributed. They luckily had an extra for me, and a couple of pedals that Jake wasn’t using. I mean it was just Comp and Reverb, but my guitar already had a funky tone to it.

Josh counted off and Jake went right into it. Tapping his strings faster and faster, Giving me a playful smile. When he got faster I mouthed “Show off.” He just smirked and went into a heavier riff.

He started playing slower and once the rhythm section joined so did I. I could tell by their nods that they were planning to come in, so in tow I joined with them. Josh joined in with heavy and raspy vocals, with this being a much darker song. He nodded to me and put his pick in his mouth holding it there. Telling me this will be a softer portion. But that didn't last long, because Josh started screaming and Jake joined in with a heavy solo in his typical style. Keeping eye contact with me the whole time. He smirked at me and just kept playing, doing his back bends, wailing on his guitar in the upper register. I played rhythm just to amuse him during his solo, I saved my best for later. I noticed how quickly his hand went back to the position from before and I joined him for the main riff. We all went back into that flow again through the next verses, and then Josh let out the same scream as before.

I gave Jake a wink and then stole his solo from him. At first replicating what he did in the beginning of his. He laughed and shook his head, reacting to me showing off. After a bit I broke off into my own, a heavier tone than his. I stepped on the Comp and the delay pedals to add my own personal flair. I'd be kidding myself if I didn’t say I was showing off in that moment. I pulled out all my best guitar moves and licks. I kept with their flow of course, but I put more of a Eric Clapton meets David Gilmour. Bending the shit of of my strings, working up and down the blues scale. Using this moment to get out all of my frustrations and anger. I beat that guitar, wailing away, putting out everything I could. I did just as Jake did, keeping eye contact with him when I could, a smirk on my face. I was playing well, same as him even, but I wasn't going to beat him this way. I threw one more smirk his way and swung the guitar onto my shoulders in one confident swoop. Seamlessly playing with the guitar, tapping in the upper register of my guitar for a bit, then upon hearing Josh start joining in with vocals I swung it back down, and made eye contact with Jake again. He laughed with a smile on his face and we both joined in on the main riff. With the song coming to a close we all harmoniously closed out the song with a quieter tone. But of course not without Josh's expert screams and Danny beating those drums to death.

We all let out a huff and sat in silence for a moment. Sam broke the silence by saying

“Jesus Christ the two of you killed that. Jake, you shouldn’t be surprised if your spot in the band is stolen.”

Jake directed his attention back to me, a goofy smile on his face.

“I definitely wouldn't be. She lived up to her end of the bargain, that’s for sure.”

I was full of adrenaline, I felt the same way I did after every show with my own band. The smile on my face and my breathlessness made it clear. These boys gave a new challenge that no one else has provided. Especially Jake, throughout all of tonight we kept our eyes on each other. Only leaving to catch cues, but even then we both merely missed some, which didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the boys.

His contact doesn't just happen when we are playing. Whenever we are together his attention is all on me. Especially when we are with the boys, hes quieter than when we are alone. He sits back and watches everything unfold. I’ve definitely noticed, but i'm unsure if he has.

I catch his eyes when he finishes his sentence, it gives off a look of intrigue more than anything else.

Before I could get in my words josh Piped in,

“I don’t know what your talking about, Jake, but you are sure as hell right. She's absolutely fantastic.” His eyes dropped for a moment in shame. “And I admittedly have never heard any of your songs.”

“Well that has to change doesn’t it?” I said with a playful smirk.

I grabbed my phone and an aux plugged into one of the amps. Starting off with one of our earlier pieces, which was heavily blues inspired, but still kept our psychedelic style in it.

We all squeezed onto the small couch and just listened to the music. I was pretty nervous because I knew their musical domain more laid in folk than anything else. They all bobbed their heads along, and their concentrated looks on their faces made it impossible to determine what they were feeling.

I stopped it after a couple of songs, and turned to face them.

“So? Are we god awful?” I asked.

“Honestly I love how you're truly mixing the new with the old. The organs and the guitar mixing together has a very Doors vibe. It's got something very unique to it all, Y/N. I love it.” Danny said, his focus drifting of to think of the right words.

“I personally love the way your guitar is standing out. Its tonality is really something else, very you.” Jake reached over and squeezed my hand, and my cheeks burned red. It was like they had a mind of their own. I quickly turned to Sam who was sat next to me so maybe Jake wouldn't notice.

“Okay so.” He said with a very determined look on his face. “ Let's talk organ player, because I really like his whole thought process and-” He was cut off by the sound of my phone ringing over the speaker. Dread filled my whole body and I tensed up. All of the thoughts I had repressed during tonight came flooding back. Jake who still had my hand in his, took notice to that.

“Fuck I shouldn’t of brought that.” I said to myself.

“You gonna answer that?” Josh asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“I-”

“Y/N go answer it, You know you should. We will be here when you get back.” Jake said softly, he looked at me with compassionate eyes. He squeezed my hand one more time and let go.

I let out a shaky breath and went to go pick it up. I unplugged it and walked off the bus to get some privacy.

The air that was normally dry and burning was now frigid compared to it. I shivered as I stepped off and hesitantly hit the answer button.

Wow two phone calls in one week that's a new record.” Annoyance extremely visible in his voice.

“You only picked up because you know you're guilty.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long sigh.

“ What am I guilty of Sam?” I paused and let out another huff. “I’m honestly confused.”

He spat out “ Your’e fucking sleeping with that jimmy page wannabe.”

Anger bubbled in my gut. His constant accusations were starting to get on my last nerve.

“Sam are you fucking serious? Honestly I don't know why I put up with your shit.”

“You put up with my shit? Are you fucking serious Y/N?” I get ignored by you every damn day for

God knows what reason.” He stopped for a moment. His angry tone switching to something more of condescending.

“I think you owe me an apology if anything.” I could practically feel his judging eyes through the

phone.

“ I mean you ignore me, sleep with other men, and leave me here to deal with all of it. Alone.”

God at this point I’m starting to see what Asa is saying. Sams getting on my last nerve.

“I owe you nothing.” I said curtly.

He just laughed.

“Seriously, Sam. I owe you jack shit for all you've put me through.”

“Ooh is Jimmy Page getting in your head about us? Giving you false confidence?”

“I’m not fucking Jimmy Page!” I yelled a bit too loudly for how close quarters everything was. But my volume stayed there, if not increased.

“You see one article about me having actual fun and you’re getting so fucking jealous that you throw accusations around to rattle me up and ruin my good experiences at work? I worked so fucking hard to get here and you can’t handle me getting all this attention can you? You seriously can’t trust me can you? Fuck you, Sam.”

Rage boiled in my veins. I couldn't keep still in my spot, I was pacing rapidly back and forth, and my free hand was clamped so tight my nails broke skin.

Even if I wanted to do stuff with Jake I have enough decency to keep it in my pants.

He stayed silent, his fragile ego probably breaking over the fact that I could finally stand up to him.

“ You really can’t handle your liquor or the truth can you?” He simply said.

That bastard.

“Oh Fuck off you free loading bitch.”

I hung up and threw my phone to the ground in a plight of rage.

I marched around in circles, whisper yelling curse words to myself to calm any anger I had.

I don’t think I can take his abuse anymore, I just feel so stupid for even taking it in the first place. How the hell did I not see any of this? I'm an actual idiot for not seeing his bullshit.

I took a final deep breath, picked up my phone, and marched onto the bus.

All the boys were standing in positions around the room that could only be described as “Act natural”. All of them gave me a nervous look when I re-entered.

With gruff tone I said “Who wants to play an Im angry and want to let out steam song?”

All of them very quickly grabbed their instruments and got into position.

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After a very long (and loud) rendition of “Sweet Leaf” we all collapsed to the couch in exhaustion. Usually one song wouldn't have had any of us beat but prior we had been playing for at least three hours. They all put something into that last song, I obviously let out all my frustrations into that song, and I guess they had as well.

We sat in a peaceful silence for awhile until Josh finally spoke up

“Well while you were… Out. We all finally discussed an idea pertaining to you and we came to a mutual agreement.”

I gave him an obvious look of confusion, and then looked over to Jake whose entire face was washed in excitement.

“Josh why does that sound like you’re about to murder me?”

He laughed and said “ No need to worry, darling! We were just wondering if you wanted to join us for our encore tomorrow? We all obviously play well together, and we’d love to have the honor of sharing the stage with you tomorrow.”

A huge smile broke out on my face, excitement now evident in me as well.

“Fuck yeah I want to! What song were you thinking?”

“Well now that's up for discussion, but I have a couple ideas that I think will blow people out of the water.”

“I can’t wait. It'll be a fantastic way to end the week.”

“The feelings mutual.”

#jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #new tune #jake kiszka fic #we are about to get sappy folks #just hang on

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love-and-monsters · 5 years

Text

Alien Encounter Pt. 8: Nighttime Talk

I woke up to the sound of rain drumming on the roof. The only things I could tell were that it was still dark out, so it was still night, and that Valain wasn’t there

My heart leaped into my throat and I scrambled to my feet. Where’d he go? He was there when I’d gone to sleep, right? Had he just stepped out or had something happened to him?

There was a quiet creaking noise from the door to the balcony and I glanced over. It was slightly ajar. Slowly, I crept to the door and pushed it open.

Valain was sitting outside, rubbing his face with his hands. His shoulders were shaking slightly, but I couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying or just shivering from the rain dribbling down his back. Slowly, I stepped outside.

He heard me immediately and his head whipped around. For a moment, he looked panicked, then he recognized me and relaxed. “Anya. I didn’t think you’d be up now. It’s late.”

“The rain woke me up.” I stared hard at his face. It wasn’t really possible to tell if he’d been crying or not. There was water on his face, but that easily could have been the rain, and his voice was a little off, but that could have been sleepiness or just a result of him trying not to drink the rainwater that was pouring over him. And yet there was something about him that made me think he had been crying right before I’d stepped outside.

“You’re going to get wet,” he said as I sat down next to him. The rain was cool, but the night air was warm enough that it felt nice rather than frigid.

“You’re already wet,” I said. Valain shrugged.

“You get all wrinkly when you get wet,” he said. He’d been quite panicked when I’d first shown him how my fingers wrinkled after being in the water for a while and had only really calmed down when they’d returned to normal.

“It’s not fatal. I’ll be fine.” I crossed my legs and brushed some rain water off my face. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

Valain was silent for so long I started to feel anxious. “Um, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe you’d want to talk about it.”

He rubbed either rain or tears off his face. “Did I ever tell you why I became a guard?”

“Uh.” I thought back. I was sure he’d mentioned it at some point, but I was a little embarrassed to say that I couldn’t really remember exactly what he’d told me.

“It doesn’t matter,” Valain said with a quick shake of his head. “I didn’t tell you the whole truth anyway.” He wiped his face off again. “My parents died.”

My stomach contracted and sank. “I’m so sorry,” I said. I felt oddly numb, like the moment right after being punched in the gut. Valain shook his head slightly.

“Everyone’s sorry,” he said. “They died together. It was an accident. There was a storm and they went out to make sure there wasn’t going to be a mudslide.” He took a deep breath. “There was.”

I didn’t know what to do, so I just put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into my touch. “They died two years ago today,” he continued.

My stomach tightened again. “Today exactly?”

“Mmhm. I was thinking about it. That’s why I’m out here. I couldn’t sleep.” He swallowed thickly. “When they died, I couldn’t do anything for months. It felt- It felt like I’d been hollowed out. It was all I could do to eat. Mostly I just wanted to sleep.” He considered the ground for a moment. “I joined the guard because I needed to make money. And because it was something that I didn’t really need to think about. I could just go in and memorize what they wanted me to and train my body. It was better than doing nothing, and I liked it. I always thought being a guard would be interesting. But a big part of the reason I did it was because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want a normal job. It felt empty. I wanted to get away from my life. But even when I came out here, I still felt… directionless. I’ve felt lost since they died.” His voice choked up and he lowered his head. I ran my fingers along his back until he lifted his head again.

“Ever since you got here, I’ve felt different,” he said. His voice was weaker, more hesitant. “I feel less distant. You’re like an anchor. You ground me back in reality. You give me someone else, something else to think about than them.” He pressed his side against mine, like he was trying to meld our bodies together. “Isn’t that weird? Meeting an alien pulled me back to myself.”

I found myself trailing my fingers in small circles along his spine. He didn’t seem to mind, so I didn’t stop. “I don’t know. Meeting aliens isn’t that weird to me.”

Valain laughed. It was startlingly loud and seemed to echo over the sound of drumming rain. He clamped his mouth shut, shrinking back against me. After a moment, he spoke again in a quieter voice. “Sorry. That’s just… strange. Sometimes it strikes me. Just how strange this all is. But I like it. I like having you around. I really think you’re good for me.” He pursed his lips. “I hope that doesn’t make me seem selfish.”

“No. You’re saving my life by letting me stay here. I’m glad that you like having me here.” We sat in silence, listening to the rain drumming on the leaves and roof. “I really am sorry about your parents.”

“I feel a little bad, complaining about that to you. You’ve lost a lot more than I have.”

“Don’t do that. Losing your parents sucks. Doesn’t matter if I’ve technically lost more than you.” Valain smiled a little. His blinks were becoming slower and a little heavier, like he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

We sat together. I kept shivering slightly, because the rain was cold and it was dribbling down my back and neck. Valain seemed completely unbothered and too tired to really notice what I was feeling. I didn’t blame him. He’d been rather agitated the past few days. I was just glad he was getting some rest at last.

“What are you going to do when you go back home?” I asked. Valain blinked at me, confused. “You said you became a guard because you didn’t know what you wanted to do in life. I was just wondering if you had any new ideas now.”

Valain hummed low in his throat. “I don’t know. Maybe. I still don’t know exactly what I want to do.” His ear-fins flattened against his head for a moment before pricking back up again. “But you know, I think I’m not as worried about it anymore. I always felt like I was going to be alone when I got back. But you’re here now. It feels nice to have you here with me.” He glanced at me for a moment, then looked back at the ground. “That’s a silly thing to say, isn’t it?”

“It’s not silly.” My heart thundered in my chest so hard I thought he could definitely hear it. “I think it’s cute.”

Valain smiled before his jaws stretched in a wide yawn. He blinked a few more times, then heaved himself slowly to his feet. He offered me a hand. “We should go back inside,” he said.

I put my hand in his and he pulled me up. My muscles were stiff from the cold. I stumbled over the doorframe as we stepped through it. Valain caught me against his chest. “You all right?” he asked. His hands rubbed against my upper arms, like he was trying to warm me up.

“I’m cold.” Rain dribbled from my hair, sending cool trails down my back and sides. Valain grabbed and towel and sat down with me to rub the water off.

Inside, it was a little easier to tell that Valain had been crying. His irises were large and it made it hard to tell when his eyes were bloodshot, but I could see the puffiness beneath his eyes. He looked weary. I wondered if he had been eating much. I hadn’t been paying attention. I resolved to pay better attention in the future.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” I asked as I finished toweling off my hair. Valain twisted the towel in his hands, frowning.

“I think so,” he said after a minute. “Even if I can’t sleep, I’ll just lie still until morning. It’s better than sitting up in the rain, I guess.” He gave a weak smile.

“I could sit up with you, if you want,” I said.

“I don’t want to make you stay awake,” Valain mumbled, but there was some suppressed eagerness in his voice.

“You’re not making me stay awake. I offered.” I propped myself up against the wall. Valain sat down next to me, tugging a blanket over us both. We were close together, practically pressed against each other. His tail was between us, preventing our legs from touching, but I could feel the soft membrane of his tail fin against my skin. I was still dripping cold rainwater, but Valain didn’t seem to mind. I didn’t really even mind. Valain was warm enough to keep me warm too.

Valain drifted in and out of sleep that night. He would start to fall asleep, his head sliding down the wall until it rested on my shoulder. For a few minutes, he would snooze, then he would jerk and start shuddering or twitching. I had to shake him awake a few times and he seemed increasingly anxious every time he reawakened. Gradually, as the night continued and I had to keep waking him back up, he would curl closer and closer to me, probably for comfort. By the time the rain stopped and the sun started to come out, Valain was curled up and clinging to me, with his tail resting across my lap. He was so tired and out-of-it that I was pretty sure he didn’t really understand what he was doing. I didn’t mind. It was cozy.

It wasn’t until morning that Valain actually fell into a proper sleep. He stopped twitching and shivering and sank into a deep sleep that he couldn’t be roused from, even when I squirmed away from him to stretch my cramping legs.

He curled on the floor in the golden sunlight that was filtering through the window, clinging to his blanket. It was kind of precious. There was something quite innocent and sweet in his sleeping face. I fetched a pillow from his bed and carefully inserted it under his head. He barely stirred.

It took me a little while to figure out how to make food for him. I’d watched him prepare meals a few times before, but there was a pretty big difference between just watching him make food and trying to figure it out myself, especially because I had limited cooking experience with human food. Eventually, I settled on the method of cooking that seemed to be pretty consistent throughout every culture I’d ever seen: throw some stuff in a pan with oil and cook it together.

I picked the only meat that I’d ever been comfortable eating, a chunk of some goat-like animal, and several of the plants that I’d been able to eat and chopped them into roughly equal pieces before cooking them in the pan Valain used. It took some fussing with the heat to stop everything from burning, but eventually, I figured out how to cook everything evenly. It even smelled good.

Valain stirred as I was finishing up and portioning it out onto plates. “Anya?” he mumbled, rolling over and tangling his legs in the blanket around him. He reached out and jerked up when his hand didn’t reach me. “Anya?” His voice sharpened with panic.

“It’s okay. I’m over here,” I said. Valain rolled over, further ensnaring himself in the sheets. He kicked at them irritably as he sat up.

“Did you cook something?” he asked as he pulled the blankets off himself. I nodded.

“I don’t know if it’s actually any good, but I did my best.”

“Well, it smells good,” Valain said. He took one of the plates from me and had a bite. His expression twisted a little before he forced it back into neutrality.

“Not good?” I asked.

Valain swallowed his bite. “I didn’t say that.” He took a small bite. “I don’t think that this particular kind of meat works all that well with ballate, though.”

I took a bite of the meal and grimaced. He was right. The fruit was overly sweet and didn’t pair too well with the fatty meat. I also got the general idea that the meat hadn’t been cooked as well as it could have been. “Sorry.”

“It’s not bad, especially for your first time,” Valain said. “Thank you.” He sat down at his table. I sat down next to him. We ate in silence for a few minutes.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked. Valain poked at his breakfast for a few moments before answering.

“I think I’m feeling a little better. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about it.”

“Have you never talked to anyone about losing your parents before?” I asked.

“Mm, not much. I never really felt comfortable with it. I think I always wanted to ignore it before.” Valain frowned into his dish. “Anya, do you want to talk about what happened to you?”

I stared at him. “Why? It’s not like you don’t already know what happened.”

“Well, I know what happened, but don’t you think it would make you feel better if you talked about how you feel? You haven’t really discussed it since you came here and it made me feel better, so I-” He caught a glimpse of my face and stumbled to a stop. “Ah. Well, I just was suggesting it. If you don’t want to, I’m not going to make you.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked. Valain shrugged, tail twitching. I could hear his fins brushing against the floor.

“Anything you want to. If it makes you feel better, I don’t mind listening.”

My first instinct was to say no, to shut him down, but then he offered me a small, sweet smile. My heart pounded and I could feel my cheeks redden. I hadn’t told Valain what that meant, right? I hoped not. “I don’t really know what to say. I’ve been trying not to think about it, I guess.”

“That’s okay. I’m just letting you know that if you want to talk, I’ll always be here for you.” He smiled again and I had to look away before my heart exploded.

“Neither of us really have anywhere else to go,” I said.

“No,” Valain agreed. “We have each other, though.” He reached across the table and took hold of my hand. I was very aware of the way his touch felt. His hands were calloused around the pads of his palms and his fingertips, but between those areas, it was soft. I could feel the slight pressure of his claws against my skin. It was a strangely nice feeling. The knowledge that he could use them on me, but he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to and that he probably never would want to… I felt vulnerable, but protected at the same time.

“Each other,” I repeated. I no longer felt so nervous about being left behind. Valain needed me like I needed him. There was something nice about being needed. Something secure. I was needed and wanted. I liked that. I ran the pad of my thumb over the knuckle of his. He smiled at me. “I like that.”

Valain searched my face for a moment, like he was making sure I was really okay. Then he broke into a toothy smile. “Good,” he said. “I like it too.”

#exophilia #alien boyfriend #alienxhuman #monsterxhuman #monster boyfriend #my writing #alien story

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classywritings · 4 years

Text

The Serphent’s Cause

Description: Legends and myths—that’s all they’ve ever been. Just old tales that only a small portion of humanity believe to hold a kernel of truth. You had always liked to imagine them being real and how different the world would be if they were.

What you were soon to find out, is that every single one has a truth to it, and how much such a truth would change your life.

Words: +2,400

Note: Bly’s ( @thehuggamugcafe ) muse has been haunting me, so I figured I would put him to work. I hope you enjoy! Might write a second chapter if there’s enough interest or if I get the urge to continue it.

You’re freezing. You may as well be drenched in a cold sweat at this rate, the chill in the air freezes you to the bone so much. Shifting, you slowly open your eyes and try to make out your surroundings. It’s mostly dark, but the sun must be rising for it’s not pitch black like it was mere hours ago. The faintest tracing of light can be seen starting to crack through the gaps in the exterior wall of the barn you’re nestled in, meaning dawn is either here or it’s just creeping up on the world.

No wonder it’s so cold. It’s always coldest before the sun rises, as your father had often told you on the mornings he got you up early to help on the farm. Now this harsh reality comes back to you as you pull your legs up towards your body and wrap your arms around them, trying to warm yourself up.

A deep, rumbling breath of air sounds before you, startling you. Eyes wide, you stare at the source, slowly biting your lip. You had nearly forgotten... After a moment of hesitation, you stand and brush the dirt off your pants. Then you make your way forward, being mindful to keep your footfalls as silent as possible so you don’t wake the large, dark creature before you.

From what little you can see, the dragon sleeping on your barn floor hasn’t moved from the position he flopped down in when he arrived safely here. You remember the way he shook the ground when he collapsed—it had made you fall back on your butt with a gasp. He hadn’t injured himself anymore by doing such a thing, but even now, you check over him again to make sure there’s no new injuries. When you find none and see that the bandages you used to cover his wounds are okay, you kneel down to take an admiring look at the great beast.

Gently, you touch the scales on his neck, marveling at their smooth, glasslike texture and the warmth radiating off them. Fascinated by it, you move your hand across them, being mindful to only run your hand the way the scales flow, lest you get cut. The scales are sharp at the edges, after all.

“How did they capture you?” You murmur to yourself, brow creased. “And why?” You’re over the initial shock of dragons being real now. Now all you want to know is why a group of people would go to such a length to capture a dragon, of all creatures. Sure, they could’ve done many things to make a profit off a dragon, many harmful things, but risk many lives in capturing one just for a pretty penny? It doesn’t make sense to you. “As much as I’ve always wished dragons to be real, I didn’t want to find out like this.”

You sigh, sitting down on the floor. You scoot closer to the dragon, now noticing even more how large it is. His neck is nearly as tall as you while you’re sitting. How he fits in your barn, you really have no clue.

Now closer to him, you feel your body starting to warm up. Pursing your lips, you look at it carefully before moving right up against him. You sigh as heat now surrounds you, warming you up near instantly. Why you hadn’t done this earlier to fight off the chill of the night, you have no clue.

Being mindful not to wake the male dragon up, you lean against his neck, making sure your clothes cover all your skin so you don’t get scratched by his scales. You have a strong feeling he won’t be waking up soon and since you have nothing to do until then, you let yourself relax and fall back asleep, soothed by the dragon’s deep breathing and warmth.

A shift of muscles underneath where you lay is what awakes you this time. However, you don’t open your eyes right away, partially afraid to. From what it feels like, the dragon has moved his neck, making his head closer to you. You lie still, barely breathing as you wait for anything else to happen. It’s only when searing hot breath brushes against your legs that you snap open your eyes.

Your gaze is immediately met with another. The dragon’s head is curled towards you, just like you thought, and it’s positioned so you can see one eye partially open. Now with the sun having come over the horizon, light beams fracture through the cracks in the barn and reveal the dragon fully to your gaze. He’s even more beautiful in daylight as he was in moonlight and much easier to see.

“Good morning,” you barely breath out. He doesn’t react, his second eyelid closing over his eye before disappearing once again, this being the only movement he makes. “You slept through the night, which is good. You still must be exhausted, though.”

You know he can understand you. When you helped with his escape last night, he had given clear signs that he can understand human speech and had even nodded once to a question you had asked. Now, if only the tales about dragons being able to speak were true. At least you’d be able to ask him the most dire questions on your mind.

Sighing and ignoring the dragon’s lidded gaze, you stand and stretch. Now would be a good time to check over his wounds, since the sun has finally decided to grace the world with its presence. Once you hear a satisfactory pop from you back and your shoulders, you turn to the gigantic, dark creature. You move to the first wound: a series of cuts on his wrists that had been from chafing steel ropes. When you peel a bandage slowly up, your eyes widen at the sight before you. Disbelief courses through you. Needing to see more, you take the bandage off completely and stare.

“Holy shit... It healed overnight?!” Incredulous, you look to the dragon, who has raised his head and moved it to watch you, his eyes now fully open. Laughing shortly to yourself, you shake your head as you remove the rest of the bandages on his wrists. They’re all healed, too. The only sign he ever was hurt there is some missing scales. “I guess if dragons are actually real, they’d have super healing, too. Lucky.”

You pat his side, which results in a short, but deep sound from him. It reminds you of a cat’s purr. Ignoring him, you move to the rest of his wounds. As you check them, you notice some are fully healed while others have only just begun to heal. You keep the bandages over the latter on, not wanting to risk an infection. You’ll have to reapply some medicine and bandages soon, too. Once satisfied that everything is okay, you pull away, but keep a hand on his side.

“There,” you say softly, meeting his gaze with the tiniest of smiles. “You should be okay now.”

You pull away, walking towards where you left some of your things last night, but stop abruptly when you hear another voice. “Thank you.”

Eyes wide, you slowly turn towards where the voice came from. “That...” You meet his gaze once again and you swear you see a hint of amusement in his fire-like eyes. “That... di-did you just thank me?”

This time, the dragon’s upper eyelid closes as he blinks. He shifts his weight, too. “Shall I repeat myself?” Amusement laces the voice, which seems to be coming from nowhere. “Mh, it seems you heard me loud and clear, after all.” You gasp, looking down as his tail wraps behind your back and partially around your waist, pulling you towards him effortlessly. He moves again, lifting his head some more as he comes close to look you over. His mouth opens partially, some of his sharp teeth glinting in the few spots of light.

“You’re unharmed.” You can hear the relief in the voice now. Though you’ve moved closer, the voice hasn’t changed in volume. It seems to have gone quieter, even. “Good, I was afraid I hurt you when I picked you up in my talons.”

You swallow. The voice must be the dragon’s, but it still somehow spoke with its mouth closed. Maybe he’s using magic?

A deep rumble vibrates your body. It’s like the short purr from earlier, but also not. “I can see the questions in your eyes. I am using magic to project my mental voice aloud to speak.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “Is that the only way you can talk?”

He nods slowly, but doesn’t say another word. His eyes roam over your body once again, this time slower than the other times. The intensity in his gaze makes the hairs on your arm stand to attention as you hold back a shiver. Once he meets your eyes, the tail around your waist and back tightens for a second before it moves away. For some reason, you feel a little empty once it’s gone.

Licking your lips, you ask, “are you okay? I’m not a dragon expert, so I can’t tell if you have any internal injuries.”

He shifts again, laying his head on the ground. A singular eye stays fixed on you, however. “I do not have any. Thank you for your concern.”

You breathe a sigh of relief then sit down on the ground, crossing your legs. “Thank god.” Relief washing through you, you start to absentmindedly pick at a string that has come undone from your jeans. You keep your gazes locked for only a moment longer before you look down at the string your hand is playing with. Curiosity still overwhelms you, so you bite your lip before you speak.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“You may.”

“Why did those people capture you?”

“That I am unsure of myself. I presume my fate would not have been good, either way.”

“How did they even manage to capture you?”

He’s quiet for some seconds as he thinks. His tongue flicks out, and you stiffen as you catch a glimpse of sharp, white teeth. The dragon has given no sign that he’s going to hurt you, so you make yourself relax. “I believe,” he starts, “they drugged the animal I hunted and ate, for I fell unconscious some time after I ate. The meat tasted strange, but hunger won over my senses.”

It makes sense. When you had come across the group of people who had captured him, he had heard you moving and was watching you as you circled the darkness surrounding their camp. You had barely made a sound, only faltering when you heard a branch snap under your heel, yet the group miraculously did not hear it for they were too absorbed in discussing something around the light of a few lanterns. They were smart enough to not outright attack the creature and instead merely drug him, but failed to notice another had caught on to what was occurring while out on their nightly walk.

Pursing your lips, you debate upon asking the next question. Curiosity wins once again. “What is your name?”

“My name?” He asks back, his voice laced with amusement. He makes a noise akin to a sigh—a deep exhalation of breath edged with a low thrum that shakes the air around him and stirs the dust motes dancing in the sun beams. “It has no human pronunciation, and if there were any I once let humans call me, I have long forgotten it.”

“Awh, c’mon, there has to be at least one you recall!” You throw your hands up, breath still bated.

“Hm…” His eyes close, his breathing deepening even further. Time ticks forward, and before long seconds turn to a few minutes. As you wait, you begin to pull and twist absentmindedly on the loose string of your jeans. When you begin to think he might not recall a single one, he speaks. “Once, long ago, people far to the East believed me to be the serpent they so deathly feared. They called me Satanael.”

Your eyes widen as he opens his, him now watching you. You swallow, stopping all movement. “And… are you?”

Satanael laughs lightly now. “No. They pegged me as an evil being, and as he was the worst in their eyes, that’s what they called me. I never harmed a single human, even when they attacked me, but that did not matter, for I was strange and wild and they knew if I wanted to, I could destroy them all.”

You frown. How terrible to think that such a beautiful creature would just bring harm wherever it went. In the back of your mind you start to understand why the dragons might have faded into legends and myths—they could’ve been hunted to extinction by those who didn’t understand or just wanted the title of “dragon slayer”. They also could’ve gone into hiding, fearing and mistrusting of humanity. Both thoughts upset you.

“...might I ask you a question?” This throws you out of your thoughts. When you nod, he continues. “Why did you save me?”

“Easy,” you say with a smile. “The moment I caught you staring at me, I saw all your emotions in an instance and I knew I couldn’t leave you to a grim fate. I will admit I’ve been fond of tales of dragons since I was little, but always hated the tales where people slain them instead of befriending them. Just like people, there are good and bad dragons within many tales. One who looked so gloomy and void of life couldn’t possibly be evil.”

Satanael blinks slowly, first with his upper eyelid, then with his second. “Come. I wish to properly thank you.”

You don’t understand why, but your face begins to heat up. Obediently, you stand and walk toward his head. He lifts it to your eye level, then turns it so both eyes can peer at you. Shuffling a little closer, he closes his eyes and places the top of his head against your torso. That sound comes from his body again, this time much louder. Being able to listen to it longer makes you realize it’s him purring. Your heart stutters in its rhythm, but you return the gesture by wrapping your arms around him and hugging him.

“Thank you for saving me,” he says softly, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “I owe you my life and gratitude for as long as I shall live.”

#mun’s one-shots #guest muse: Satanael #verse: dragon au #Satanael (Persona 5) x reader #dragon!Satanael x reader

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faefictions · 5 years

Text

The Kids From Yesterday | 1

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 3,770

Summary: A road trip with her friends on the way to move in with her boyfriend makes the reader realize that she might not be as in love with the person she thought she was.

A/N: Ok, so this was going to be just a one shot, but I couldn't control myself, and it got to be over 10k words before it was even half done, so here is part one of a 3 part (or not, idk how many) series!!

Being in your early twenties is a weird time. Some of your friends are still living at home with curfews, some are still slogging through college, and some are getting married and starting the rest of their lives. When you were younger, you didn’t particularly see yourself being the latter of those options, you had imagined you would wait until your late twenties to settle down. But here you were, 22, sitting across from your boyfriend of 3 years. He had just asked you to move back home with him, and you were sitting speechless. He took it as a happy shock, but if you were going to be honest, it was anything but.

None of your friends really liked your boyfriend, Adam. He wasn’t specifically terrible in any way, but he wasn’t exactly the best fit for you. He was very reserved in social settings, which wasn’t too off-putting for you, but it made it impossible to hang out with your group of friends. You had been friends with the Hollands since birth, so it was difficult to see them not get along with Adam, but you weren’t surprised.

As Adam waited for your reply, you tried to use logic instead of listening to your heart. You of course had a place to stay already, and had never lived anywhere else, but your lease with your best friend and roommate, Harry, was going to be up in a couple months and you were already talking about trying to find a new place. You hadn’t been set on it, but this seemed to be a sign that maybe it was time. And you had never lived far from your hometown, so maybe this was a new adventurous chapter for you. So you agreed. You hadn’t thought about the implications it had for the relationship, but it was too late.

When you got home that night and told Harry, he was less than happy.

“Are you shitting me? Isn’t that something you should think over?”

“Harry, come on. I’ve been dating him for years now, it’s about time we move in together anyway.”

“Yeah, in a flat across town, not in another city, hours away.”

“Harry, come on…”

“When?”

“I think he said next month? But I told him I was staying here with you until our lease is up and that I can just fly out and meet him there.”

Harry went to bed with a frown that night, but it was nothing compared to telling the rest of your friends. Harry’s twin, Sam, was the only one who tried to be at all supportive of you. Their older brother Tom was just as outraged as Harry, but the worst out of all of them was Harrison.

You had only met Harrison a few years before you started dating Adam, so your relationship was different than the ones you had with the Holland boys. To be completely honest, you had had a huge crush on him before you got with Adam, but you knew that dating a friend would cause nothing but trouble, so you gave it up and moved on.

Harrison was very protective of you, something that you loved. Even when Harry would simply tease you, Harrison would be by your side to defend you. He had been there for every single stupid fight you had with Adam, always holding you until you were stable enough to confront your boyfriend again. So when he heard the news of your leaving, his face fell, and it broke your heart.

The 4 boys left empty beer cans littering the counters of your apartment’s kitchen while they drunkenly discussed their “secret” plans to get you to stay. You had argued that it wasn’t secret if you were there to listen, but they shushed you each time. You had to draw the line when they eventually came up with a plan to kill Adam and kidnap you.

“Guys,” you laughed out to get their attention, “I’m sorry, but I have to go. As much as I would love to stay here and spend the rest of my life with you drunken idiots, I have to settle down at some point.”

A sad silence fell over the room, but Harry put a quick end to it.

“You said he was going to head out there before you, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, how about, we all drive you out instead of you flying to meet him? We can make it a road trip, we’ll take the weekend off and send you off with some proper memories to remember us by.”

The boys all agreed that that was the only way they were going to let you out of their grasp. It sounded like fun, and would save you money since you didn’t have to book a last minute flight, so you agreed.

A month later, Adam flew back to his hometown and began to look for an apartment for the two of you. He had a job arranged already, and you had a few interviews. You tried your best to be excited. You had been craving a change to spice up your mundane life for a while, but this just felt wrong. You loved Adam, but the second he had asked you to go, you had started to question how far that feeling extended. Moving to his home town with him was a big commitment, but you weren’t sure it was one you were wanting to make. You were sure you weren’t ready to be married to him, but the more time you had to think about it, the more you realized that you were fine with being married at this age, you just didn’t want to be married to Adam. But you were in too deep to back out, and every time Adam called you to update you on the apartment search you were reminded by the hope that he would never find something.

A week before your lease was up, your phone screen lit up, and you knew it was the call you had been dreading. He had found the perfect apartment. It was affordable and 10 minutes from a beach. It had a large kitchen and beautiful patio with a view. It was more than you could ask for, and the pictures should have made you feel better about the move, but not even a mansion could make you happy about leaving.

You of course decided to hide this feeling from your friends. If any of the 4 boys found out, they would easily talk you out of it. You just didn’t want to hurt Adam, so you decided to give it a year. If you weren’t happy, you could always move back.

Despite losing his roommate, Harry decided to renew the lease under his name, and he told you if you ever wanted to come back, your room would be open for you. He helped you pack up your things every night for a week before you had to go. It mostly consisted of him throwing things in boxes from across the room and you yelling at him for nearly breaking all of your belongings, but it didn’t make it any less special.

The night before you were set to leave, you both sat on the kitchen floor with a complete mess surrounding you. You were going through each and every belonging and sorting through what belonged to each of you. An hour into sorting, you guys broke out the alcohol, and the sorting became much slower, but the laughter that filled the apartment made it ok. There were mugs and plates scattered across the floor, random utensils and gadgets lying between them, and in the middle was the pair of you with bottles in your hands.

“Ok, but do you remember when our neighbor lit her curtains on fire? They smell spread through the entire building, and you thought it was my cooking,” Harry laughed.

“Of course I do. Do you remember when that same neighbor had that man over and we had to turn the volume on our movie up as far as it could go to drown out their moaning?”

“Burned into my skull.”

You both continued to reminisce as a knock came at the door. You chose to ignore it at first, you wanted to enjoy the last moments you had with Harry as your roommate, the person you wished you could remain living with. But the knock came again, so you got up, realizing suddenly that you had had more to drink than you originally thought.

You stumbled over to the door and opened it to reveal Harrison on the other side. The frown you had from being dragged away from Harry was quickly replaced with a beaming smile when you realized who it was.

“Haz,” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck, “What are you doing here?”

“Have you been drinking?” he chuckled, hands going to your waist.

“I am an adult and it is 10 pm, you have no room to judge, buddy.”

He smiled at you and took a few steps past so he could close the front door for you. “Is Harry around?”

“In here,” Harry called from the kitchen floor.

When Harrison saw the mess surrounding Harry, his face fell to confusion. “Are you guys just trashing the place now?”

“We were sorting through our things, don’t want y/n missing anything when she leaves. What are you doing here?” Harry asked as he stood up to join you.

“I just wanted to see y/n one last time before we left. The apartments not going to be the same without you.”

You tried to hide your blush as you went to offer Harrison a beer from your nearly emptied fridge. He happily took the drink and joined both of you on the kitchen floor. He sat quietly as you and Harry continued to reminisce, a smile appearing on his face with each story. You had noticed that he was quieter than usual, but you were too caught up in the conversation to ask him if he was alright.

After a few hours of drinking on the kitchen floor, the three of you had finally sorted through everything in the kitchen and cleaned up the mess. It was nearing midnight, and as much as you wanted to soak up every last second in the place you had spent the happiest moments of your life, you knew that you had to get some rest for the trip.

“Do you want to stay over tonight, Harrison?”

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you guys.”

“Can we have a sleepover in the living room?” you excitedly asked both of them. There was no way they could say no to your excitement. Within minutes, the couches were covered in blankets and pillows and you were searching for a movie to fall asleep to. You settled on an old action movie that you had seen multiple times with Harry. By the time you had settled into your corner of the couch, Harry was already asleep. You were laying with your head on the arm rest, feet curled up near your chest to leave room for Harrison on the other end of the couch.

“Are you excited to leave tomorrow?” you heard Harrison quietly ask over the movie.

You sat up a little so you could see him clearly. He looked over at you, patiently waiting for a response. You considering telling him about the internal dread you held on the subject, but you had hid it to prevent any of the boys from talking you out of it. Since you were still able to be coerced to stay, you decided against it, but hated lying to him.

You settled on replying with, “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?”

Of course it was because you didn’t want to be with Adam, but that was more information you couldn’t divulge.

“It’s just further than I’ve ever been from home, you know? But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Harrison could tell you were hiding something, but he knew that you were holding back for a reason, so he pretended to believe you.

Nothing else was said as both of your eyes reluctantly turned back to the television, slowly coaxing you both to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to your alarm going off. The slight headache from the alcohol you had consumed the night before was the last thing on your mind. You tried not to tear up as you woke up the 2 boys. You were feeling a depressing amount of nostalgia, and it was getting hard to hide. But you powered through, and once the boys were awake, all attention was off of you as they began to take your things out to the car. Sam and Tom showed up within an hour after you had woken up, and shortly after, everyone was packed into the car along with the bags and boxes. Luckily you hadn’t needed to bring much. All of your furniture was going to be picked up by your parents to be brought back to your childhood bedroom, and Adam had the furnishings of your new apartment arranged.

The five of you had arranged to share a large hotel room so you could split the drive over 2 days. You could have easily made it in one, but they refused to let you go so soon. They had also planned a few surprise stops along the way.

You spent the first leg of the drive trying to force yourself to live in the moment. Your brain was torn between wanting to soak in every last second with your friends and dreading the destination of your trip. While you knew you would see them again, you weren’t used to not seeing at least one of the boys everyday, so you did your best to focus on them, but the dread was built up so high in the back of your mind that it became impossible to ignore anymore.

After a couple hours of driving, you made it to the first planned stop. It was a large restaurant in the middle of a town you hadn’t heard of. You had no idea why the boys were all so excited to take you there, but it was obvious once you saw the interior. There were deep red tablecloths covering each small table, fancy dishes professionally set atop each one. There was a large, beautiful chandelier in the middle of the large room. The boys all watched your face light up when you saw the inside, and their smiles matched yours when they saw your excitement.

“How did you guys find this place?”

“It was Harrison’s idea,” Tom smiled.

“I saw a picture of it on Instagram, thought you might like it.”

You were surprised that the hostess led your group to a table with how you all were dressed. None of you were wearing anything fancier than jeans, and this restaurant didn’t seem like the kind of place to allow anything less than black tie apparel.

The food you received was amazing, and the company was of equal quality. The meal could have lasted 15 minutes, but you remained seated for over an hour, laughter filling the quiet room. For being so fancy, the place was surprisingly empty.

When you got back on the road, you sat in the backseat between Harry and Sam. Music was blasting through the stereo speakers and the windows were all down, allowing the breeze to blow everyones hair into their faces. You were finally able to push the thoughts to the back of your head and enjoy the car ride, listening to the boys sing along to every song. The drive passed by quicker than you hoped, and you were at the hotel before sundown.

The room the boys had rented had two beds and a pullout couch. The twins called one of the beds, and Tom suggested you share the other with Harrison and he could take the pullout.

You brought your small bag into the room and set it next to the bed designated as yours. The white sheets made it look incredibly inviting, and you were almost tempted to crawl underneath them and take a nap, but it was only late afternoon and if you slept at that point, you were going to be up way too early the next morning.

You weren’t sure who had suggested it first, but everyone had agreed that you all needed to find somewhere to get drunk together. You put your shoes on as the others rushed in and out of the bathroom to get ready.

Within the hour, you left the hotel room and found yourself at a loud local bar. The music blasted through the speakers, and you smiled endlessly as you downed shot after shot of whatever drink was cheapest. You planned on getting the most out of your money for the night. You tried to drag Harry out to the dance floor that had a small crowd of people who were just as terrible as you, but he refused to be seen dancing in public.

“I don’t care how much I have in me, I won’t be caught dead out there tonight, y/n.”

As Harry walked to the booth where his twin was sitting, Harrison took your hand and laughed at your angry, scrunched up face. He led you to where you were trying to take Harry, and you stuck your tongue out over your shoulder to Harry from across the room. He smiled and did the same to you.

The three Holland boys watched as you drunkenly danced with Harrison. You were a few shots ahead of all of them, and it was no secret that you didn’t hold your liquor as well either. You bought a few more shots, but Harrison cut you off eventually, trying to get you to go sit down at the booth with the rest of your friends.

“Its either dancing or more alcohol for me, pick your poison, Haz.”

“Actually, it’s your poison. Dancing it is.”

Your dancing was more of a series of jumping and singing along loudly as you flailed yours and Harrison’s arms. To anyone else, it may have looked ridiculous, but to your friends, it was just you having a good time, something they had missed seeing. It was rare to get a night out like this with you. Adam had really put a damper on your adventures with these boys, and eventually he had put an end to them.

You told Harrison you were going to the bathroom a few minutes after you had been “cut-off”, but you just used it as an excuse to order a few more shots while his back was turned. You had one down when Harrison reached you, wrapped his arms around your waist and tried to carry you away from the counter. You were laughing too hard and flailing around too much for him to get very far. He set you down on the dance floor, a few feet away from where he had grabbed you.

“I said no more,” he lectured, but he couldn’t help the smile creeping up on his face. You were pretending to have no idea what he was talking about, and he found it adorable.

“I just wanted one more. I’m having a good time, Haz,” you finally admitted.

“And you’re one shot away from a bad time.”

You scrunched your nose at him, just like you had done when Harry refused to dance with you. You both knew he was right, so you didn’t fight him on it.

You two walked back to the table and spent some quality time with the rest of the group. They mostly just made fun of your dancing, but you just claimed they were all too chicken to have any real fun by making fools of themselves. You did sneak off one more time to get the last shot you had already paid for, but no one caught you that time.

You were almost asleep on Harry’s shoulder when the boys decided it was time to go back to the hotel. They each offered to carry you, but you insisted that you were completely capable of making it back.

As you walked back to the hotel, you did stumble a little, so Harrison slowed down to your pace, keeping an arm tight around your shoulder as you both trailed behind the others.

“Thanks for dancing with me tonight,” you beamed up at him.

“Of course, I was just glad to see you having a good time.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Well you’ve been living your life, we understand.”

“No, I mean it’s been a while since I’ve had a good time.”

Harrison furrowed his brow at the change in your tone. He wanted to ask what you meant, but felt that he shouldn’t push it when you were this intoxicated.

“Can you keep a secret?” You asked, a little slurred.

“Of course, but…”

“I don’t think I love Adam. I’m kind of afraid I’m making a huge mistake.”

“Y/n…”

“I really should have dumped him when he asked me to move in with him instead of saying yes, but I was dumb. And I’ve been thinking about it, I think I’d rather marry a…a sea urchin.”

He laughed at how you spat the words “sea urchin”, but his laughter quickly subsided as he sadly glanced down at you. Your eyes were set in front of you, and he had never seen them look so dead.

“I wish I could go back in time and say no,” you whispered after a few beats, and he caught a glimpse of a tear roll down your cheek.

He finally paused on the sidewalk and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as a quiet sob came out. His hand held your head against his chest. There was so much he wanted to say in that moment, but he knew he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure you would remember this moment in the morning. So he just held you in his arms on the sidewalk for a little longer.

Harrison gave you a piggyback for the rest of the way. The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out for the night. Harrison, on the other hand, took your shoes off for you and laid them by the bed. Everyone in the room was snoring as he sat awake with your words running through his head.

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the other parts of this series! (or if you would like to be added to my permanent taglist!)

taglist: @smilexcaptainx @artsycth @rose-marys-love @chonisberonica @5sos-wdw @chloe-geoghegan1 @spiderlingsweb @embrace-themagic

#harrison #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield fluff #tom holland #harry holland #sam holland #reader insert #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfiled angst #harrison osterfield x y/n #the kids from yesterday #song fic #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fan fiction

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logan-go-nom · 5 years

Text

Something Amazing

Virgil is supposed to be doing homework, Logan is a needy ho. They are dating.

~~~~~

Virgil jumped when his phone rang, breaking his concentration. He decided to ignore it, mostly out of spite. it went to voice mail and he had to close his door. He plugged in his headphones, still not answering, instead letting his boyfriend leave his message. Virgil could hear the slick sound of Logan pumping his cock, and he ignored the fact that he was getting hard. Then Logan started getting louder, groaning and whining Virgils name, and Virgil decided that is Logan was getting off he could too. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down just enough that he could get at his cock. He listened to Logan get faster, then just before his boyfriend finished, he answered.

“Hey baby” Virgil chuckled just a little at the startled noise Logan made. “Did i interrupt anything important?”

“i was just-” Logan gasps and Virgil can hear him moving again.

“Oh darling you better not cum. I don’t recal giving you permission.” Logan just whines.

“Please, V, I- I need- I am so close- I want you,” Virgil clicks his toungue.

“I want you to sweets, turn on your camera” Logan is almost to quick to comply, and virgil groans at the sight of his boyfriends flushed face painted crimson and glowing from sweat. “You look so fucking hot sweet hea-” Virgil chokes when Logan switches cameras, giving Virgil a beautiful view of his swollen red cock.

“I started thinking about seeing you again and things got a little out of hand,” Virgil’s breathing gets heavier as he picks up his pace.

“How out of hand Lo?”

“Just a moment,” Virgil watches as Logan shifts around, changing the angle of the camera and turning. Virgil moans and has to fight against closing his eyes when he sees logans stretched hole stuffed with a vibrator. “Its the one you got me for my birthday.” Virgil smiles just a little.

“Does it feel good Honey?” Logan shifts it around a little and moans.

“Not as good as you. I want you here”

“Are you sure you could handle this?” Virgil switches his camera finally, “It has been a while for you.”

“I can handle it. Please V, give it to me.” Logan shifts again, pulling the camera back to his cock so he can grind back against the bed.

“Oh i wish i could, if i were there i would make you scream” Logan starts pulling at his cock again and Virgil slows to match his pace.

“Tell- Tell me how.” Virgil laughs a little.

“Okay, but you can’t touch yourself, that is for me and me only okay babes?” Logan nods and pulls his hands away and switches the camera.

“I said you couldn’t touch, when did i tell you to switch camera. Listen Logan. Do only what you are told.” Logan nods and switches the camera back. Virgil takes a deep breath.

“If i walked in on this, i am not entirely sure i would be able to stop myself. I would stalk over to the bed and pull your hands away before kissing you. I would trail kisses down your body, making sure you know just how much i missed it. I would bite and suck at your thighs and hips but completely ignore the weak hand pushing me closer to your cock. Once you get loud enough, and let me emphasize loud, you would have to be screaming my name and begging, i would sit up, and push the vibrator up against your prostate before pulling it out. Knowing you, you would whine.” He can see Logan’s hips shift up and he knows Logan is probably attempting to simulate it. He considers admonishing him but he doesn’t sure enough, Logan whines high and needy as he slips the vibrator out. “Let me see your hole baby,” Virgil waits a moment while Logan shifts his position. “You are going to need that dildo i sent you hun,” He can hear a drawer open and close and the cap of a bottle of lube clicking open and shut.

“Keep talking, please, Virge, talk to me.”

“Okay baby, i would slick up my fingers and open you up just a little more to make sure i fit. He watches entranced as Logan’s slender fingers work in and out of him. “It would be quick but i would still make you whimper, curling my fingers up against your prostate” He can see the muscle in Logan’s hand shift as he curls his fingers and he can hear his Boyfriend muffling noises in his pillow. “And if you dare try to do anything to make yourself quieter, like you did just now, i would pull your head up and do it again, holding at it until you are begging for my cock.” Virgil has to stop himself from cumming when Logan picks his head up and curls his fingers again, his scream echoing in Virgil’s head. “I would tease yo just a little, slowly fucking my fingers into as you beg.” And boy does Logan beg, calling out Virgil’s name and begging for his cock as if he was really there. Virgil smiles as Logan reaches that point he always gets to when he can’t quite string together a sentence.

“Cock, please, good, want, fuck, Virgil, need, me, god, oh, fuck, virgil, fuck, cum, want, Virgil, inside, please, fuck, please, Virgil, please,” Virgil watches as his boyfriend starts to shake, sure he is close to finishing. He decides to take pity on him.

“I would pull my fingers out of you and bend over, kissing you gently while i slick up my cock.” He can hear Logan spreading lube over the dildo. “I would tell you how good you are doing, mostly because it’s true, you look beautiful baby, absolutely stunning, you really are doing amazing, i love you so much. And when i have you relaxed just a little, i would slide in, pushing in so far you can feel it in your throat and bottoming out. You are already so close but i would go slower at first, letting you adjust and just grazing against your prostate,” Virgil watches as Logan shifts and waits a moment. “Then i would pick up my pace, Fucking into you roughly and devouring what i could reach of your body,” Logan shakes as he fucks himself faster on the toy, Virgil almost forgets what he is doing as he watches Logan clench around it as it slips in and out.

“Virgil, please, make me, please,”

“I would wrap a hand around your cock and jerk it until you are coming over my hand and across the sheets. Its okay baby, let me see, come for me.” Logan rolls onto his back and positions the phone so Virgil can see him frantically jerking his cock, his hips bucking into the air and his thighs shaking. “So good for me, you always were the perfect little slut, if i told you right now that you aren’t allowed to cum yet, you wouldn’t.” Logan whines.

“Please, i need, i- I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead honey, let go,” And Logan does, moaning out Virgil’s name as he comes, “Stunning. I’m so close Sweets, Can i, god i wanna fill with my cum so bad, Logan.”

“Cum in me Virgil, please, i need it.”

“God, watch what you do to me, everything you see is your fault babe,” Logan switches the camera back.

“I wish i could taste you, i really wish you were here, but all i can do is watch you fall apart, Virgil, i love you,” Virgil throws his head back as he finishes.

“You are amazing, you know that right Lo, what did i ever do to deserve you in my life” Logan laughs.

“Something amazing”

~~~~~~~

Definitely not my best, in my defense, i am not really in the right head space to be writing. I am in the perfect head-space to be fucked out of my mind but whatever. its not like i have anything better to do so here, take this. i am such a fucking sub, damn it. i can’t write dirty talk. but i did my best.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

Text

Athazagoraphobia (Part 10)

With a loud clang, the gates come down again. All it takes these days is a furious storm. If the wind gusts powerfully enough, the barricades are useless. And if the barricades can’t hold their own against the wind, Azula can’t see them withstanding an army of the claimed. She watches Bujing and Shinu work to erect the gates once more, a futile effort if she must say so.

Mostly she watches from the doorway or from her bedroom window. She tries to avoid excursions to the outside world, which is easy enough with her leg still in a state of healing. When she does find herself outdoors, that feeling of wrongness takes on a deeper intensity.

Today is different though.

Today she wants to be outside.

She feels remotely useless.

On top of useless, she feels faint and in turn her feeling of uselessness doubles. She catches sight of some of the claimed shambling up the palace staircase. Their faces and torsos weep gore where skin has rotted away. She hadn’t noticed before, but there is something else; the faintest outline of something. If she looks close enough she can see silvery-blue wisps writhing like worms or candle smoke around the rims of empty eye sockets and along the craters in decaying skin. On some of the possessed, the spectral fingers are longer, more apparent. On a very select few, the silver blue seems to halo their entire bodies like an aura.

“Those weren’t there before.” She says as Ruon takes a seat next to her.

“Huh?” He asks.

“Mother fuck!” She hears from below; Bujing has finally made note of the intruders. It crosses her mind that she should be out there helping. “Why aren’t you working on the barricade? You have four well-functioning limbs. What about Xuia, why isn’t she…”

“Because the gates won’t last no matter what we do. Those two just like to feel like they’re making a difference.” Ruon shrugs.

Azula turns her attention back to those strange spectral glows. “What are those?”

“Those would be the infected.” He laughs.

She gives him a little swat. “No, not them. Those wisps in their eyes.” She points at the figure wrapped in it, “It’s all around that one.”

Ruon cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”

Azula’s heart sinks. She really should be medicated. “Nevermind.”

A few incoherent shouts from below draws her attention and she watches the pair scramble up the steps and into the palace.

“We need to secure the palace.” Ruon notes. “And we need to do it quickly.”

Azula shakes her head. “We need to leave the palace.” She allows no room for protest. “It’s too big to secure. There are too many entryways and not enough personal to keep them from being breeched.”

“There are only two of them.” Ruon notes.

“For now.” She replies. “What do you think we’ll be able to do if a heard of them find us?” She watches Bujing trip over a large crack in the stairwell, the angle at which his ankle twists is not lost on her. She must be truly and irreparably mad of mind because a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. The possessed shamble closer. Bujing cries out and Shinu turns around, at last realizing that his partner has fallen.

Azula takes a breath, she supposes that now is as good a time as any to do a little experimenting. She makes her way to the window and opens it.Leaning against the nearest wall with as little weight on her bad leg as she can manage, she arcs her arms with the grace she hasn’t had in a long while, sparks dance at her fingertips. When lightning is generation to her satisfaction, she releases the energy.

The trajectory is fatal, she lands her mark. The force of it takes the thing’s head off. Bujing looks up with a mixture of relief and horror. The corpse of the possessed drops and Bujing’s face pales completely. He scrambles back and away from some unseen horror. Unseen to him anyhow.

Even from here, she can hear the whispers. At first she almost doesn’t notice it, a bubbling in the blood that pools around the corpse’s neck. A bubbling that she soon realizes is more like a pulsing. Swimming within the crimson is a wormlike tangle of those spectral wisps.

One of them springs from the mass and misses Bujing by only a few inches.

Shinu grabs the man and drags him up the stairs and into the palace. With a slam of the heavy double doors, the world is hauntingly quiet again save for the gurgles of the still twitching corpse and the occasional slosh.

She wonders how long these creatures can survive outside of their host.

.oOo.

Azula isn’t sure why she had expected gratitude from the man. Still it comes as a slap in the face when the man jabs a finger at her and shouts, “that girl is a demon!”

She crosses her arms and listens to him prattle on.

“She’s one of them, I’m telling you.”

“One of them?” Shinu asks. “She saved you!”

“Takes one to kill one.” He insists.

“I didn’t kill it. I killed the host body.” Azula clearifies. Though she isn’t entirely sure that the body has died at all. It was still spasming when she’d last looked at it some several hours later. She is almost sure that it is still an incubator for those phantom creatures--some type of nest or temporary home until they can find a new and functioning host.

“You can’t prove…” Ruon starts.

“I say we send her out there and see how they react to…”

“That is out of the question, Bujing.” Azula knows that tone. It is the very same finalizing one that Li used to placate her when she was just beginning to learn to firebend. “If you cannot see her as a friend then I suggest that you at least recognize her as a valuable asset.”

“Or the undoing of us all.” He argues.

“We are well past the incubation period. She can speak and she move like she used to Her temperment is as it always has been.” Li counters. “I have closely watched over her since she was a baby, I would be able to tell you if we were speaking with something else.”

Azula sits back and takes the argument in.Truth be told she does feel strange and out of sorts. But they don’t need to know it, especially if it can be chalked up to simply recovering from such a close call.

She hears Bujing continue on with his ranting and raving but she isn’t really listening anymore. She waits for him to finish before flatly stating, “keep me or don’t, I don’t really care. I can make it to the Tribes on my own.” Her leg will continue to be a hinder but it is much easier to hide and stay out of trouble without the weight of a group to hold her back. “Just make up your minds so I can begin planning my next move.”

“You’re staying with us.” Shinu replies as Bujing refutes.

“The majority wants you to stay.” Xuia smiles.

Azula nods. “Then you best find a way to keep him quiet.” She folds her hands in her lap. “I like to think myself patient, but I won’t put up with his outbursts much longer.”

.oOo.

All in all it has been a productive day. Probably the most pleasant she has had since descending deep into madness. In some sense she is beginning to feel more or less like herself again. Her head has been much clearer, the hallucinations quieter.

She is getting used to getting around on with the crutches. It isn’t ideal and her strides are significantly slower, but she is beginning to feel confident in her ability to retreat from unsavory situations with haste.

Perhaps they can begin to move out soon. She would like to vacate the palace before the two lurking infected grow into a vicious pack of them. The opening of her door interrupts her solitude.

“In this palace, we knock before we enter a room.” She chides. “The world might have gone savage but we can at least retain some scraps of civility.”

Ruon Jian rolls his eyes. “Sorry, princess.” She doesn’t like his tone but elects not to comment on it. “I was just thinking that we should change your bandages again. This time I snuck some real ones from the infirmary. We haven’t had to use many yet so it couldn’t hurt.”

Azula pats the mattress, he doesn’t take her invitation right away. Instead he begins tending to her leg. “It doesn’t look as bruised or swollen.” He notes.

A good sign.

“We were hoping that you’ll join us downstairs again.” He says as he begins binding her leg up once more. “They want to know the plan.”

“The plan?”

“Yeah. You said that you’d start making plans. They want to hear it. The group is getting kind of restless.”

Luckily for them, they aren’t the only ones. Azula has been jittery enough to make good on her word. “I was actually hoping to leave tomorrow or the day after…”

“But your…”

She holds up a hand. “I can get around just fine.” She pauses. “We need to comb through the palace and pick out supplies. Forget clothing and blankets, we can scavenge clothes when we need them and make bedding out of what’s available. Comfort is second to survival.” She cringes as she admits as much. “My leg won’t be a problem right away. I know a decent passage system that runs beneath the palace.”

Ruon laughs. “How about you save all of that for when we’re with the rest of the group.”

Azula coughs awkwardly. “Right, yes.”

“Done.” He declares.

Azula nods. “Meet me down there, I will be there in a moment.”

He gives her a thumbs up and she watches him exit the room. She takes a deep breath, it has been so long since she has had any sort of authority. She coughs again, this time it is wholly involuntary. A nervous dizziness washes over her. She swallows before looking at her sleeve.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Just to be sure, she picks up her crutches and wanders into the adjoining bathroom. She spits into the sink. It is free of blood and black sludge. She tilts her head back in relief and exhales. It would seem that she isn’t rotting away.

She still feels faintly dizzy, but she more confidently writes it off as the product of nerves.

#Avatar #Azula #Ruon Jian #Lo & Li #Fanfiction

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arthurhwalker · 5 years

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Managing Severe Anxiety

Severe anxiety drastically impacts one's quality of life, afflicting one with somatic symptoms, and playing havoc with the social calendar. In the last year, I've had my worst bout with anxiety, and after three trips to the ER, lots of mistakes, trying many things, I finally feel like I'm on the mend. What's worked for me, may not work for everyone, but it may lead a person toward resources for finding their own solutions.

I'm not a doctor, or anything close. I'm a creative, and a thinker, and while I haven't found a silver bullet for severe anxiety, I've found some things that greatly improved my quality of life. Before I begin, I want to state, definitively, none of this is a substitute for therapy, taking your medication, and having a doctor you like. Consider seeking those things first.

Note: Nothing talked about below will fix you, but it might make enduring your severe anxiety less wretched. Read on!

Defining Severe Anxiety

I'm not going to do that here, mainly because I don't want to put a trigger warning on this. If you've had somatic symptoms scary enough to send you to the ER, you can probably put yourself in the severe anxiety category. Severe anxiety doesn't come out of nowhere, it has a trigger, and figuring that out requires professional help.

What allowed my admittedly pretty bad normal anxiety to transform into the more severe variety was a lack of understanding my own body, the processes that regulate it. I've had my mental health fail a couple of times before, and traded a couple of savage blows with depression. I thought because I had basically beaten depression, I was on the other side of it all.

Trauma doesn't work that way. Being fearless doesn't prevent your body from having a biological reaction to staring down death, the threat thereof, injury, tragedy, and loss. Humans survived by keeping a certain standard of evolutionary fitness, and these primordial impulses will not be denied, even in the strongest of us.

Building Awareness

One of the things that contributed to my anxiety was a lack of a baseline relative to how I was feeling physically. My anxiety messes with my digestion, nervous system, and cognition, creating a host of somatic symptoms. I didn't have anything I did every day to create a baseline of awareness into how I was feeling.

Variety might be the spice of life, but rituals are the meat and potatoes.

Fight or flight turns certain sensations off, or down to low. Because the body believes there is danger, it doesn't bother with letting you know you're hungry, or tired, so you can keep fleeing or fighting. If your anxiety is severe, actually feeling tired or hungry can be a welcome sensation, as they become more rare. Anxiety robs one of their physical awareness.

To combat this, I've been doing thirty minutes of yoga every day. There are lots of benefits to low impact exercise, feel free to draw your own conclusions, and do your own research. Yoga won’t work for everyone (find your own thing), but for me, it was a good way to create a baseline.

Whatever you choose, make sure it’s realistic for you to do every day. When I travel, my yoga mat goes with me. I treat it like a prescription bottle of pills, or anything else you don’t leave home without.

So, if I felt bad, but flowed through my yoga, it was probably just my anxiety, and I likely had the physical resources to go on with my day. If I struggled through my yoga, it meant I was probably dehydrated, my sleep was subpar, or I hadn't consumed enough calories recently. Regardless of how I felt, I should probably take it a little slower through my day, and conserve my resources.

Meditation has been a good way to create a baseline for me as well. If I could easily empty my mind, and just be for ten minutes, I probably had the mental resources for outings, shopping, or social excursions. If I struggled with ten minutes of meditation, I might want to seek some solitude, drink some calming tea, or deal directly with whatever is occupying my thoughts.

At the center of both practices is breathing.

Breathing

My anxiety likely comes from an overdeveloped, overworked, fight or flight response. This autonomic response is designed to protect us from all kinds of mayhem. However, it can get so sensitive and overworked that it gets tripped by the smallest things.

We can't really control the rate at which our heart beats, our hormone response to hot and cold, or how quickly, or slowly, we digest food. One of the only autonomic processes connected to fight or flight that we can control, is our breathing. Letting the parts of your brain that control the autonomic process know that you're safe seems to be most easily accomplished with the breath.

Feel free to look up all the recent and not so recent research on the topic. I was surprised to find little conflict. Breathing is good, particularly if you do it correctly.

For me, I breathe from the belly, low and slow. Breathing from the chest is what I did as an athlete to amp up, and it turns out the opposite, low and slow, can bring your autonomic fight or flight response down. That part of your body only gets a little input from the higher functioning parts of the brain, and thus lives mostly in the dark relative to what's going on around you.

Telling myself I'm safe, while breathing low and slow, long and deep, five minutes a day, has really helped me out. It's a good practice to have if you're having a panic attack, and can possess the presence of mind to alter your breathing midstream. What helps me avoid being in that position is to carefully curate the aesthetics of my life, my safe places, both in the real world, and in my mind's eye.

Aesthetic Curation and Positive Association

Anxiety messes with our perception of time. The purpose is to give the mind more space to react to danger. However, it also accentuates discomfort, pain, sadness, and anything else one feels during periods of intense anxiety. Creating positive associations has really helped me.

I hate taking my medicine, so I put a picture of my wife and I at a beach on the medicine cabinet. I think about that cold day on the East Coast when I take my meds. It's gotten to where it takes such a small cognitive toll that I often have to count pills to make sure I took them. That's nice.

Sleep was a problem for a long time. Severe anxiety, fight or flight, for long periods of time, will shut down peripheral systems in the body, like salivary glands, and tear ducts, messing with digestion, and restful sleep. I used to dread going to sleep, so I changed everything I was doing, and took action.

Just to get sleep, I have...

Moved apartments, to one with a smaller and quieter bedroom.

Painted the wall opposite the headboard a soft yellow, nice to fall asleep and wake up to.

Bought a new bed, with an extra layer of memory foam to make it as comfy as possible.

Spent weeks waking up with the dawn, going outside to meet it, to rebuild my circadian rhythm.

Bought a triangular pillow so I wouldn't worry about waking up in the middle of the night to acid reflux.

Procured prescription toothpaste to help with dry mouth.

Keep dental mints in the nightstand so I have options if it wakes me up in the middle of the night.

Use eye drops when my eyes are dry.

Take ibuprofen when I hurt, even if just a little.

Take a diphenhydramine sleep aid, to make me drowsy, and help me breathe better.

Wear a sleeping mask with a curved covering so the fabric doesn't wick moisture from my eyes.

Wear a buff around my head to keep my long hair from getting pulled if I toss and turn.

Monitor my sleep with an app on my Apple Watch.

Have ear plugs in my nightstand if there happens to be noise in the night keeping me up.

Have the main lighting in our living room set to automatically shut off at bedtime.

Have eliminated all but a couple small lights in the bedroom; night time is bed time.

Go to bed religiously, roughly at the same time, as if it was a sacred ritual.

Talk about something nice with my spouse before I sleep.

Wear blue light blocking glasses in at different times throughout the day.

Use most of my electronic devices in night mode, unless I'm doing visual work for print.

Also: My spouse makes sure I have my favorite tea when I wake up, so I dread the morning a little less. <3

Good golly, that seems like a big list of things, but working on a sleep ritual that works for you is pretty key. There likely isn't a single silver bullet, but a long list of things that make up a ritual. Sleep is the cornerstone where managing my anxiety is concerned.

This was illuminated to me recently while traveling from Wichita, to Seattle, to Anchorage. The return trip was much harder than the initial, with the amount of sleep preceding each bout of travel being the defining factor. I can't burn the midnight oil anymore, I gotta have sleep.

As I alluded to previously, to get proper sleep, I needed a safe place to do it.

Safe Places

Part of my therapy required having a safe place to go, both in the meat space, and in my mind's eye. When we moved apartments, I did everything differently. I don't work at home, and the rigors of what I do can't find me there. Beside my favorite place to sit, is a smaller exact make and color of the blanket I use to sleep. My wife's artwork hangs where I will see it as I leave, and as I come home, a visual signal that I'm entering, or leaving, my safe place.

Creating this neurological baseline took weeks. I was surprised how readily my subconscious mind accepted what my rational self would dismiss as flimsy gimmicks. The autonomic process that regulates our fight or flight is remarkably simple, and the simplest stimulation seems to work best. In other words, the closer to whimsy, the better.

In my mind's eye I had to create a safe place. For me, it was Coronado Heights in Lindsborg, Kansas. It's a tiny castle on a hill, a strange thing to see in the rural Midwest. It's quiet there, and I have reconstructed it in every detail in my mind's eye. How the stone feels at the hand, the smell, the wind, the way the inner chamber echoes, the reddish hint the soil has there, everything.

I've used it as an internal focus for dealing with the banality of my life. In the worst of times, my wife and I would flee to Lindsborg for the weekend to recharge. If I have to do something I don't want to do, I wear a t-shirt I bought at one of the shops in Lindsborg. When I take a shower the day of that difficult task, I use scented soap I bought at one of the stores in Lindsborg. I've made that tiny idyllic town my cognitive safe space, and built many positive associations with it.

Recently, a high school student (and aspiring graphic designer) made a t-shirt, looking like a vintage travel advertisement for Coronado Heights. It's gorgeous on it's own merits, but has special meaning for me. I look at that shirt the same way I would ballistic armor. It is a neuro-cognitive trigger, and countermeasure.

This isn't the only way to create positive association however. Emotional support animals can die, and special places can be bulldozed, but these things wouldn't be precious if they weren't vulnerable, and finite. Being able to build new, even baseless positive association is important. I used to scoff at people that named their cars, or had sentimental attachment to objects.

I kinda get it now, in moderation.

My spouse and I found these tiny plastic chickens in a shop full of Wichita themed items. We decided the chicken is lucky, and made it a totem of travel, so we can safely return home. I carry my tiny totem in the case for my glasses, a reminder to keep my perspective. During our last trip, my spouse lost her tiny chicken somehow. We'll have to go get her another one, but the association here is simple.

So much of what causes anxiety is beyond our control. Sometimes it is the silliest thing that can dispel that helplessness. A tiny plastic chicken that makes you smile can have an enormous impact on your mindset. Humans use totems as part of their association with everything, their relationships, and their fears. The plastic chicken is just my way of gaming that particular societal construct.

Also, I can always get another plastic chicken if it is lost, no fucks given.

Not Giving a Fuck

The Internet has given rise to the notion that our ability to care about things is measured by a resource referred to colloquially as "fucks". There's pop culture and self-help books a plenty that hold to this concept. I think the use of profanity in this case is uniquely appropriate because it gets a person's attention. There is a stark and necessary distinction between "no", and "fuck no".

Managing my anxiety has often been directly proportional to managing what sort of things I give a fuck about, and when. Telling someone that I don't want to hear about what they don't like, and that I would prefer to hear about what gives them joy, changes the flow of fucks immediately. Avoiding the wasteful distribution of fucks to things that only feeds my helplessness has been vital.

Stopping myself midstream (usually right before I post or respond to something on Facebook, haha) and saying internally, "No, I'm not giving a fuck about that, moving on," has been a powerful thing. I've immediately, and definitely, given myself permission to not expend emotional resources on a given thing. I put my fucks safely back where they belong, in the bank, to be spent on things that really matter to me.

Educating myself about the known science behind anxiety has helped me be merciful toward myself. Specifically when I fail to act, or act or perform badly due to my anxiety. I can understand that the malfunction isn't a weakness, but an overdeveloped safety mechanism that I've had to rely on too much.

Saving my fucks, as a cognitive resource, gives me the space to endure when I would otherwise succumb to a panic attack.

Space

Managing anxiety, for me, is about creating distance with my fears, and surrendering to forces I cannot control. There is no one thing that creates that distance, and getting space is usually a combination of things that I've done as part of my ritual of wellness. I've tried supplements, fad diets, functional medicine, aroma therapy, and some cringe-worthy new age bullshit to manage my anxiety.

What shines through is I seem to win in finding the things that let my brain stem and limbic system know I'm actually safe. To that end, the simple things that tap into the few narrow means of communicating with our autonomic selves seems to work best. Identifying what trips your anxiety is pretty important in getting space away from it.

My phobias and fears are deeply rooted in my subconscious, to the degree my body responds even if I'm not thinking about it. It's the stimulus that is the mind poison. My physical resources play directly into whether or not I panic, or fly through those situations safely. I have to (as my father calls it) front load for life, and forgive myself when those preparations fail.

Sometimes, nothing will keep me from a crash. How soft the landing, and how quickly I bounce back, are directly related to how well I front loaded. Our bodies can't turn on a dime, and most of the countermeasures I've developed took weeks or months to take hold. I had to keep a journal of my symptoms, and chart my progress in a spread sheet to unlock what worked.

Even as I write this, my guts are trying to make a fist, and I'm feeling a little low. I know from months of experience that my sleep last night wasn't optimal, and I'm 90 minutes past when I usually eat lunch, and that is all this is. Having that knowledge, took time and a hard won deep understanding of myself.

You'll get there. Hang on. You'll get there. That's my mantra.

Nuts and Bolts

It's important to listen to your body. Ignoring your pain or discomfort, for me, has made my fight or flight response, my anxiety, worse. It tells my body things are bad enough I can't stop to rest, or eat, or seek solace. If I hurt, I take pain medication. If I'm constipated, I take a laxative. If I'm tired I rest. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm thirsty, I drink. I'm never far from some ibuprofen, my water bottle, a bag of lightly salted almonds, or a place to rest. I know where all the quiet coffee shops and libraries in Wichita happen to be.

Full Princess Mode, all the time, everywhere I go. I don't take on cognitive liability I can avoid, and I don't take risks with my mental health or safety. When I travel, I engage in the least amount of cognitive liability I can, and plan ahead.

I don't make myself do anything I know I don't have the resources for. I freely cancel appointments, politely decline new responsibilities, log off early for sleep, and engage in other culturally "selfish" behaviors. I don't ride the line with this either, and my sleep app has a keen feature, recording how much "credit" I have in my Sleep Bank. I'm shooting for double digit returns, eventually.

This frees me to make sure I am able to attend things that are important to me. I don't want to miss another wedding, birthday, or family reunion because I'm a wreck. I want to have the resources to do the important things, do my work, and spend time with people I love, for as long as possible.

Conclusion

Tell me what works for you in the comments. I genuinely care about this topic, and I don't think we can ever possess enough resources for life. I hope you found something useful in the text above, and that your tomorrow is better than today. Peace.