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morbidkisses · 3 years

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I’m not sure how your requests work or what you would need, but could I get a yandere Hoseok story please?

You Belong With Me. (y! hoseok drabble)

warning: yandere themes, obsessive themes, yandere behavior, manipulation, abusive relationships, hobi gets kind of aggressive later on in the story, misogyny, choking, hair pulling, reader is chained up to the wall, death, minor character deaths.

summary: you get into an argument with hoseok because he refuses to let you go outside and catch up with your friends over a few drinks.

I do not condone this type of behavior so please don't romanticize this type of sick behavior, and if you're part in an abusive relationship please seek help!

once again this is FICTION, and yandere is counted as horror/mystery type of shit so stay safe bubbies! oh and this might be triggering so please read at your own risk, and if you don't like stuff like this then SCROLL. I talk too much-

"What? so you love them more than me??"

you rolled your eyes and sighed in exasperation. your boyfriend was being irrational at this point, and it was driving you crazy. You met hoseok a few weeks ago, and you were charmed by his radiant smile, his sweet words, he was the perfect gentleman with good looks and a fat bank account, you couldn't say no when he asked you out on a date, how could you? he was literally so perfect, but you were too blind to see the dark imperfections hidden behind his bright smile.

"For the hundredth time, hobi, they're my friends and I just want to catch up with them! You're being illogical-"

"How am I the one being illogical when you're the one who is choosing your so-called friends over me???" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize his point, his eyes were so wide you thought they would pop out.

"Just because I want to see them and talk to them doesn't mean I love them more than you, for God's sake!!! stop being so childish." you yelled out as you tugged at your hair strands in frustration. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? it wasn't like you were going out to cheat on him with someone else, you just wanted to go out and catch up with your friends at the local bar.

"You're not going, and that's the end of this stupid discussion, love. Now, get your ass back in the bedroom and change into something proper, you look like a slut in that dress."

Okay. that was it. You grabbed the first thing your hands could find, which was a tissue box and threw it at him as hard as you possibly could in rage. How dare he call you that, your dress was completely fine. You were clad in a simple black dress that dropped right above your knees and the only thing that could be considered inappropriate by society was the little cleavage that was showing, but even if you were to go out in the tightest dress he still had no rights to call you that. You had to leave him. And leave him you did.

"You're such a bitch, I tried to make this shit work but honestly I'm fed up with your immature ass. Im leaving." you picked up your purse which had your car keys and phone in it, before walking towards the entrance door and opening it.

"don't bother calling me again." you mumbled before slamming the door shut behind you.

Hoseok was in a state of shock, his soul had left his body, he couldn't process what just happened. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water on him.

"n-no... y/n, sweetie, come back..." his voice cracked as he fell to his knees in devastation. He knew you could no longer hear him, but he hoped you would come back through those doors and hug him. How could you be so cruel? You were the reason he was breathing? He felt like all the light was pulled out of him, his mind going numb as he stared down at his hands.

Soft cries left his lips as his stature stuttered while he sobbed silently, but not before long, he broke into an unhinged laughter as he sat down on the ground and leaned back against the couch, his eyes stuck to the door you had so rudely slammed into his face. All traces of sadness had disappeared from his face, a devilish smirk replacing the heartbreaking frown.

You were going to regret this big time.

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Tae, my birdie just left me, can you do me a favor and bring her back to me?"

The person on the other line scoffed audibly

"Do I even have a choice?" 'Tae' groaned.

"Not really. Be careful not to hurt her, and bring her two little friends with her as well, I don't care if you hurt them just keep those two alive, my birdie needs to learn a lesson."

A sigh could be heard from the other line before 'tae' mumbled an okay.

"I'll text you the location."

Everything was a blur, one moment you were laughing and having fun with your friends and the very next second you fell unconscious. Unknown to you, someone might have put a few ingredients in your drinks.

You woke up with a throbbing ache in your head, your mind was fogged up and you couldn't think. A groan left your lips as you brought your hands up to rub your temples. You sat up on what seemed to be a bed, your mind started clearing up, but you were still confused, where were you? what happened? You fully opened your eyes and panic started filling your mind as you realized you were in Hoseok's room. You started hyperventilating and quickly got out of bed, but you felt something heavy around your ankle.

was he fucking serious???

He had cuffed your ankles, you were literally chained to the wall. the chain was long enough for you to roam around the room and the bathroom.

You were hysteric, trying your hardest to pull out the thick chains from the wall, but your efforts were futile. Silent sobs began pouring from your lips as you panicked. After giving up you slumped against the wall and hugged your knees as you cried to yourself.

"Oh you're up!" Hoseok beamed as he entered the room.

Furious yet terrified, you stood up and charged at him full speed before grabbing him by the collar of his white shirt and yanking him closer to your face.

"Listen here, you crazy psychopath, if you don't let me out of here right now I'll-"

"oh please, what are you gonna do?" he grinned sinisterly as he gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, you were such a cute little thing, bluffing around. You couldn't do shit to him at the moment, and both of you were aware of that fact. His gentle strokes didn't last long as he yanked your hair back.

"You must learn your lesson, my love, I didn't want to do this but you misbehaved."

His other hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain. Your face started becoming red as you tugged at his hand.

"p-plea... se... s-sto..."

He scoffed at your expression as he tilted his head. "know your place."

He tightened his grip one last time before letting you fall to the ground on your knees, before you broke into a coughing fit.

"That's where you belong" his tone was enough to make you shudder. "you belong with me... completely at my mercy."

You didn't have it in you to fight more so you just weakly glared up at him, your legs felt numb, rendering you motionless on your knees.

"I hate you..."

"aw, but I've barely started your punishment, love! It's still too early to hate me!"

although your words stung him a bit, he didn't show it. He just feigned an innocent smile before he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Bewildered by his actions, you frowned. What was he up to? what did he mean when he said it's still too early to hate him?

"Ah Tae! Hello!" He sounded awfully cheerful and enthusiastic. How could he shift his mood like that. It seemed as if he was face timing someone on his phone.

Hoseok looked down at you and he almost cooed at your adorably confused expression.

a sigh was heard from the other line. "You owe me big time, hoseok."

"yeah yeah, I'll send you the money later. Can you show me our friends for a bit?"

no.. he couldn't mean...

He crouched down next to you and showed you the screen of his phone. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly began shaking your head.

"Hobi, please no no, please! Leave them out of this please!" you almost choked on your tears as you begged him to let your friends go.

"it's a bit too late for that, baby." he pressed a kiss to your temple which made your skin crawl in disgust.

"YOU BASTARD, LET THEM GO." you screamed at the screen as you watched your best friends tied up and severely bruised.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit..." 'Tae' muttered. You couldn't see his face on the screen, probably because he was using the back camera to show your friends.

"the fuck am I supposed to do now?" the person behind the camera asked.

"oh just finish them off."

Hoseok sat down on the ground and back hugged your body, his head resting on your shoulder as he made sure your eyes didn't leave the screen.

"no please don't! I'm begging you please stop!" you cried out as the camera got closer to your friends. Your friends' cries were left unheard as two bullets were shot right into their skulls.

You let out a blood curling scream as you thrashed around, but hoseok was stronger than you, so he held you down with ease. How could he do that?

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both, you motherfuckers!" you screamed at them both as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"thank you, tae, I owe you! bye bye!" he ended the call.

"You see love, we could've avoided all of this... if you had just been obedient. This is all your fault, I hope you know that." he sighed as he looked down at your crying form.

He was sick, how could he say that, did he feel no remorse?

"you can't leave me... you belong to me."

a/n: that was kind of shitty- but I tried- sorry for the late updates! I hope you like it :]]

this is unedited by the way :]

oh and I used a yandere starter prompt by @yandere-daydreams ! :]

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dannyphantom-rewrite · 4 years

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Ghostly anatomy

Ghost Cores: are the sole organ that a ghost processes, although the core itself is made a few seperate components.

(please pardon my poor art skills)

Outer Wall: Thick many layered endoskeleton surrounding the core, composed of hardened Ectoplasm. Microscopic pores allow for the steady intake and expulsion of ecto-energy.

Membrane: A thin porous sheet beneath the outer wall, keeps Plasma and organelles contained.

Plasma: A soup-like substance composed primarily of super charged Ectoplasm.

Vacuole: Organelles responsible for containing energy reserves, becomes active when a ghost uses their abilties or becomes injured. The sudden release of energy acts as both a catalyst to recovery and a form of adrenaline.

Scire: Latin word for "to know", a vaguely heart-shaped organelle responsible for storing information/memories. The "brain" of the core.

Vibrato: Responsible for speech, and more animalistic vocal responses; growling, purring, rattling, hissing, ungodly shrieking and unnatural echoing. Greatly influenced by emotions.

Mitochondria: Energy Vacuums. Organelle responsible for drawing ecto-energy in from the Ghost Zone, through the Outer Wall and Membrane, filtering out harmful components, transferring excess for storage in the Vacuole and finally, releasing resulting waste products.

Nucleus: Synonymous with the Soul.

-Ghosts need ecto energy to function, and Danny and Vlad aren't an exception. However, while normal ghosts take it in from the Ghost Zone (The process is kinda similar to photosynthesis, and if you're thinking that the core looks a lot like Plant cell, you're right and that's why.) Danny and Vlad don't spend nearly enough time there to sustain themselves and have to actually consume Ectoplasm from time to time. Think of it like a dietary supplement.

Ectoplasm and injury:

-Aside from their core, a ghost's body is literally just Ectoplasm. When they get injured they can quickly pull energy from their Core's Vacuole to heal/repair the damage. Major injuries take more time to repair, for example; loss of a limb. Re-growing an arm takes significantly more time and energy than sealing a cut.

-If a ghost expends ecto energy faster than they can replenish it, they run the risk of destabilizing into a pile of goop.

-If a ghosts core is damaged it can heal, so long as the injury is on the outer wall or membrane, damage to any of the organelle is permanent and will greatly affect how it functions. For example, a puncture to the Scire will result in memory loss, and a snapped Vibrato chord could make vocalizations painful, or even render the ghost mute. Damage to any of the three mitochondria slows the rate of energy absorption and thus makes injuries heal much slower.

-if the nucleus is damaged in any way, that ghost WILL destabilize.

-Halfas definitely heal faster than normal humans, but Unlike normal ghosts, Vlad and Danny still have bones and organs and all that other junk, so they're not nearly as durable.

-When either of them get injured Ectoplasm will flood to the site and act as a sort of internal support until the injury heals naturally. So for example, let's say Danny breaks an arm, Ectoplasm will fill in the break and keep the bone held together, and then slowly recede back into the blood stream as the break heals.

-Another thing to note is that while Ectoplasm based limbs can grow back, living tissue doesn't. If Danny or Vlad lost a limb, they'd probably be able to make an equivalent Ectoplasmic prosthetic while in their ghost forms, but in terms of their human halves that arm or leg would just be gone for good.

-Internal organs don't grow back either, but Ectoplasm is more than capable of patching up puncture wounds. So if there was every an incident where either of their insides ended up on the outside…well…that missing bit of small intestine is gonna get a glowing green replacement.

-Danny and Vlad aren't capable of destabilizing into puddles either because of the whole bones and tissue thing, Rather, if they over exert themselves they simply revert back to their human halves and black out for awhile.

Halfa's and blood type:

-Vlad's blood type is O-, While Danny's is AB+. Both of them also have Ectoplasm running through their bloodstream and are unable to receive blood from a donor who doesn't also have ectoplasm in theirs.

-Since Vlad's blood type is that of a universal donor, he'd be able to give blood to Danny, but Danny wouldn't be able to donate to him. If Vlad ever needed a transfusion, he'd have to pull from a supply of his own that was set aside for an emergency.

-Niether of them can donate blood because of its Ectoplasmic content.

Classifications of ghosts:

deceased soul: most common type of ghost, created from the soul of a living being whose death was either too soon, leaving them with unfinished business, or particularly violent and/or gruesome.

Natural-Born: Sometimes insultingly called Never-Borns, these are Gosts that were born as ghosts and were never actually alive in the traditional sense of the word. Youngblood and the denizens of the Far Frozen are good examples of this type of ghost.

Wraiths / Feeders: Not all deceased souls are feeders, but all feeders are deceased souls. This is a sub class of ghosts that needs to consume some sort of emotional response, along with ecto energy to sustain themselves. Ember, Spectra, and shadow are good examples, As they feed off of admiration, misery, and misfortune respectively.

Shape-shifters/ blobs: sub class of natural born ghost. These guys have low ecto-energy/ power levels and somewhat unstable physical forms. This allows them to change shape with ease but they also get a lot of shit from other ghosts for being weak. They're a lot smaller than the average ghost and their default shapes don't usually look very humanoid. Examples include: Bertrand, Skulker and Ectopi.

Spirits: Ectoplasmic based entities that represent an idea or concept. For example, Clockwork is the Spirit of time.

Halfas: Living Humans with fully formed ghost Cores.

Artificial: There are three ghosts that fall under this category, Dani, Dan, and Nurse Good, As they are the only ghosts that were not made by any "natural" means.

Core bonds and reproduction:

-Okay before anybody asks "dude wtf do you mean ghosts can be born?"

-Im gonna just. Explain that real quick and get it out of the way, lmao.

-So, simply put, a natural born ghost is formed when ecto energy from two (or more) ghosts is combined. This is a process that takes an insane amount of energy and really shouldn't even be attempted unless the parents have super high energy levels or a third party who can help out. It's done completely externally and all in one go, so if the energy flow gets cut off before the new ghost's Core is fully formed it WILL destabilize, and there goes all your effort right down the drain.

-And yes, Halfas can do this too, But they're offspring wouldn't inherit any human features, they'd be full ghost. While I'm on the subject, it's actually the only way Danny or Vlad would be able to have a biological kid. The ectoplasmic radiation from their accidents rendered them both sterile/infertile in the human sense of the word. Danny doesn't menustate anymore, and for lack of better terminology, Vlad is just firing blanks.

-Core bond is just the term for ghost marriage. Bonded ghosts are more in tune with each other than those that aren't, as they develop a sort of empathic connection with their partner(s).

-This last thing has absolutely nothing to do with Ghostly biology but I don't know where else to put it so here:

Esperanto = ghost speak.

The language was originally created to be easy to learn so as to act as a universal language. Unfortunately the idea didn't catch on IRL, BUT!!!

When you consider the fact that not all ghosts would speak English, it's definitely a good idea for the Ghost Zone to have a universal tongue to get past that language barrier issue.

The language DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO BE LEARNED, It's just there. The information is the first thing stored in the Scire. Esperanto can be spoken, written or signed, similar to ASL.

#danny phantom #ref #lore

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

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I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

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Where’s My Love? (read on ao3)

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: Teen Summary: Buck felt all of the air leave his lungs and his heart jumped into his throat because no one had ever told him he was allowed to be upset.

Maddie had always asked him to give their parents a break, to cut them some slack and be grateful the siblings at least had each other. But no one in his life - his sister or other distant relatives, his guidance counselors or teachers, his friend’s parents, all of whom saw how he was impacted - had ever told him it was okay to feel angry or that it was okay to expect more from the people who raised him.

Or a Season 4 Episode 4 coda where Eddie helps Buck get through the dinner with his parents without even knowing it.

With his parents back in town and his mind racing with thoughts of being forced to socialize with them after so many relatively peaceful years, Buck’s anxiety was the highest it had ever been. That was saying a lot considering he had survived an earthquake, a firetruck bombing and subsequent embolism, and even a fucking tsunami all within the last two years. It made him laugh - almost as much as it made him want to throw up - that a surprise visit from the people that raised him was triggering more of a trauma response than any of those other events.

He took a deep breath as he wandered the streets of L.A. and considered his options. He was set to have dinner one more time with Maddie, Chim, and his parents, and he honestly wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through and keep his mouth shut like he had promised his sister. She asked Buck to understand where they were coming from, to realize that they tried their hardest and that things could have been a lot worse, but Buck couldn’t imagine how that was fair.

It wasn’t fair that it was always his job to push aside their parenting failures because he was an adult and had turned out ‘just fine’ as Maddie had always put it. It wasn’t fair that their small jabs at Maddie tore open the scars Doug had left on her or that their obvious misguidances of Buck in every way caused shame and hurt to flood through every inch of his body when they spoke. It didn’t matter that Maddie was pregnant from a man that truly loved her and treated her right and had a job that she really kicked ass at. If that didn’t matter, then it certainly wouldn’t that Buck had worked harder to become a firefighter than he ever had in his life and that for once, he was truly happy when he looked toward the future.

No, none of that seemed to matter, because Evan and Maddie had to be on their best behavior and pretend that their parents did the best that they could given the circumstances, of which Buck wasn’t aware enough to fully understand. He would get through one more dinner for Maddie and Chimney’s sake and his parents would go back to wherever they decided to venture to next and Buck could repress all of the negative emotions that welled up inside of him once again.

Before he knew it, he was in front of Eddie’s door. He let out a small chuckle at the fact that even when he was lost in his own mind, his body found its way to Eddie. Buck relied on him so much more in the last few years, more than he ever expected to rely on anyone let alone the one person he had despised on sight. He figured it made sense for his subconscious to bring him there, though. Eddie was a father, first and foremost, and he had made that clear since joining the 118 that being a father was the most important thing to him even above his career. Buck knew how much being a firefighter meant to him, so he could only imagine the kind of love Eddie must have for Christopher to put anything above that.

He knocked on the door without a second thought and placed his hands in his pockets nervously as he waited for an answer. When he saw Christopher’s face as the door opened, his heart soared and he held out his arms for an inevitable hug. He loved how Christopher’s hugs were always full-bodied and suffocating because that was just how Buck needed them to be, especially then.

“Buck! Dad didn’t tell me you were coming over!” Christopher said excitedly and Buck was grateful that at least one of the duo was happy to see him. Even though he figured Eddie would be completely fine with the unexpected visit, his mind was too hazed with anxiety to accept that.

“That’s because he didn’t know, Bud. Where is he?” Buck asked, taking a few steps inside just as Eddie rounded the corner. Eddie’s face showed surprise and then immediate concern, and even once Buck smiled at him, the worry in his features seemed to only marginally lessen as he smiled back.

“Just in time to tuck Christopher into bed for the night!” Eddie yelled with a mock joy that did nothing to convince Christopher that bedtime was as exciting as Buck’s surprise arrival.

“But dad,” Christopher drawled out, “Buck just got here!” For a moment, Buck’s guilt must have been obvious, but Eddie scooped his son up in his arms with an easy explanation.

“And Buck can visit anytime he likes. That doesn’t mean you need to be awake for it. Go brush your teeth while I talk with him and we’ll both come say goodnight in a few minutes, okay?” Christopher sighed heavily as Eddie put him back on the ground, but peered around to Buck who nodded to confirm that he wasn’t going anywhere. If he had the opportunity to put his favorite kid to bed, he wouldn’t - and couldn’t when Christopher looked at him with such wide, pleading eyes - say no.

When Christopher was safely out of earshot, Eddie rested a hand on Buck’s shoulder and stated, “You barely ever come here without texting me first.” Buck huffed out a laugh.

“What? I’m not just allowed to come by ‘anytime I like’?” Buck quoted back at Eddie who looked very unimpressed having his words used against him. The ‘you know that’s not what I meant’ was clear in the way his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. “I just needed a friend. I needed-- well, I needed you,” Buck admitted simply, and fortunately, that appeared to be enough.

“I’ve got a few beers in the fridge leftover from the game on Sunday and I think some juice and Gatorade? Take your pick,” Eddie offered from where he continued finishing up the dirty dishes from dinner. Buck needed to keep his hands busy or his nerves would get the best of him so he stood next to Eddie, holding his hands out for the next rinsed off dish. Eddie apparently decided to take the help and handed Buck the cleaned saucepot without a word.

Their bodies were aligned perfectly with arms pressed together snugly and Bucks’ socked foot nudging against Eddie’s slippered one with each pivot toward the dishwasher. It was comfortable in every sense of the word and just what Buck needed for his mind to finally start to simmer down. For a few minutes, all he focused on was the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body and the repetitive motions of putting the dishes away the exact way he knew Eddie wanted them. He started the dishwasher and all of the stress associated with his parent’s disappointment was washed away from him as if he put himself in the rinse cycle.

“Buck! Dad!” Christopher called from what sounded like his bedroom. As they walked together, Eddie’s hand never left the middle of Buck’s back as if he somehow knew exactly what Buck had needed from the moment he arrived.

“Ouch,” Eddie began and they entered Christopher’s room, “pushed to second place when his Buck is around. Really stings, kid.” Christopher grinned at them unaffected, his smile brighter than anything Buck had ever seen, and he patted his dad on the cheek.

“I like when both of you put me to bed,” Christopher stated and Buck’s heart exploded once more. He couldn’t resist leaning down and wrapping his arms around the kid as tight as he could, pressing an overexaggerated kiss to his temple and rubbing his cheek on Christopher’s out of control hair. Christopher didn’t seem to worry about the affection and held Buck back just as tight, and when Buck pulled away, Christopher held Buck’s face in his hands and leaned up enough to kiss his forehead firmly.

“You’re a good kid, Chris. You know that?” Buck asked, brushing his curly hair back from his forehead only for it to spring forward anyway.

“Yeah, I know. You’re my best friend. You and my daddy,” Christopher said simply as if those words weren’t everything Buck had ever hoped to hear. He couldn’t imagine ever saying those words about his own father, let alone to his own father and something about Chris admitting them so freely had his breath catching in his throat. He was rendered speechless and Buck was grateful when Eddie leaned into their space and kissed Christopher’s other temple gently before pulling the sheets over his chest.

“Love you, Christopher. Thank you for being such a good boy today and every day,” Eddie said as he stood.

“Love you more and I love you, Buck,” Christopher said easily as his eyes closed - as if it was the last thing he needed to make sure his dad and Buck knew before he fell into sleep.

“I love you, too, Chris, so much,” Buck answered as Eddie pulled him from the bedroom.

He felt like he could cry. He wasn’t sure if the tears that welled in his eyes were from Christopher’s words or from the impending doom that would be his own family’s gathering or even from exhaustion brought on by literally every single thing in his life. All he knew was that Eddie pulled him down the hallway and into the living room and when he was drawn into his best friend’s warm embrace, the dam inside of him cracked more than he wanted it to.

“Buck, what’s going on, man? I haven’t seen you like this since--” Buck was glad Eddie didn’t finish. There’d been way too many times that he had broken down in front of Eddie since they had met and he didn’t need a reminder of how weak he was, especially when he was sure he would get one from his parents soon enough. “Talk to me. You came here for a reason so you have to let me in, okay?” Eddie’s voice was on the edge of panic as he urged Buck to sit on the couch.

“Is it hard to be a parent?” Buck asked hastily. Eddie seemed to consider his question for a moment, but Buck didn’t like the way it sounded and backtracked, “Wait, that’s not--”

“You mean, why was it so hard for your parents to be good parents?” Eddie responded and Buck’s jaw dropped. Before he could ask how Eddie knew what he meant, he shrugged and explained, “You’ve been off since Maddie told you your parents were going to visit and she gave me the heads up that there’s history there I might not know.”

“Dammit, Maddie,” Buck cursed under his breath. Eddie let out a small laugh and rested a hand on Buck’s thigh, the small touch immediately sending a sense of calmness through Buck he couldn’t try to solve.

“She cares about you. I care about you. So will you let me answer your first question?” Buck nodded and Eddie took a preparing breath. “Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’m a veteran and a firefighter. But it’s also the easiest thing I’ve ever done because my life wouldn’t be the same without Christopher. It wouldn’t be nearly as exciting or worth living without him and I think you’d agree with me.”

“He’s the best kid I’ve ever met,” Buck said without thought because it was true. “He’s so easy to take care of and he listens more often than not and he’s got a sense of humor that won’t quit. He’s--”

“He’s a nine year old with Cerebral Palsy, a dead mother, and a single father that works 24-hour shifts on a weekly basis. He’s an incredible kid, don’t get me wrong, but he’s got more problems than you ever did.” Buck winced, but he couldn’t argue with that. Buck had it easy as a child and he shouldn’t be complaining just because his parents neglected his emotional needs a little.

“Yeah, I know I’m just overreacting--”

“Hey, no. Stop that,” Eddie said as Buck made to stand. Eddie pulled him back down and angled his head as if making sure Buck couldn’t look away from his eyes. “Buck, you’re not overreacting. Whatever you feel, whatever you went through as a kid, those emotions and-- and anger that you obviously feel toward your parents is extremely valid.” Buck felt all of the air leave his lungs and his heart jumped into his throat because no one had ever told him he was allowed to be upset.

Maddie had always asked him to give their parents a break, to cut them some slack and be grateful the siblings at least had each other. He tried his hardest to do just that, but there were only so many times his parents could miss his football games or ignore his obvious attempts at scrounging for attention before the resentment for them rose into too much for any kid to handle.

But no one in his life - his sister or other distant relatives, his guidance counselors or teachers, his friend’s parents, all of whom saw how he was impacted - had ever told him it was okay to feel angry or that it was okay to expect more from the people who raised him.

“My parents, they--” Buck choked on tears that he tried so hard to hold back. The only calmness around him came from Eddie’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and his other resting gently on Buck’s thigh. He didn’t have time to be embarrassed by the intimacy of the touches or to think too much about what they might have meant as he continued, “They never saw me. It was like I didn’t even exist to them. Like-- Like I was just some sort of accident they couldn’t rewind time to fix. I was so alone in the world besides Maddie, but even then, she found Doug and left me as soon as she could. It was like every person I met didn’t care if I disappeared and everyone else disappeared even though I cared.”

Eddie hummed in what sounded like understanding before asking, “Have your parents ever offered you an explanation?”

“Yeah, right,” Buck said sharply. He softened his tone when he realized Eddie’s hand had stopped moving on his back and glanced back up at his friend with a sad smile on his face. “It was always my fault. I was too reckless, too wild, too hard to handle, too exhausting . It made me easy to give up on.” Eddie opened his mouth as if to apologize or argue against Buck’s words but Buck shook his head and rested his hand on top of Eddie’s where his fingertips started to dig into his thigh.

“You don’t give up on your kids,” Eddie said simply. His eyebrows furrowed, his nose flared and he pressed his lips together so tightly, the skin around them started to pale. Buck could see the frustration rising in him and tried to smile to lighten the mood but it wasn’t enough. “No, you-- Kids are so hard to raise, but a parent has to be there for them before they decide to give up, and even then! I would never give up on Christopher and you have no idea many people have told me I have or even should .”

“Excuse me?” Buck interrupted, his own anger bubbling inside at the insinuation that Christopher wasn’t worth the entire world.

“That shouldn’t be surprising, Buck. Like I said, he’s got a disability that inhibits his quality of life - even if he or either of us doesn’t see it that way - and he’s gone through more trauma than any kid should ever have to handle at his age. It would make sense for me to send him off to a boarding school for kids with special needs or to live with his grandparents who are way more equipped to handle him than I am,” Eddie explained. Buck had a hard time processing what he was hearing because Eddie would never do that to Christopher, there was no way.

“Have you thought about that?” Buck asked, his eyes searching Eddie’s for the truth.

Eddie sighed and nodded. “Yeah, of course I have,” he admitted with shame resonating in his voice. “There are nights where I just want to-- I don’t know, lock myself in my room and forget that I have this responsibility or days where I just wish I could catch a freaking break.”

For the first time since Buck had known Eddie, he felt anger towards his best friend. He thought of Christopher; who told Buck he was his best friend, who reminded him that everything was going to be okay, and told him he was good, and couldn’t possibly imagine ever wanting that to disappear. He thought that if Christopher was his kid, he would have never considered those alternatives.

Then he looked back at the last few years he had known the family and realized there had been plenty of opportunities for Eddie to do even more than consider. He could have sent Christopher to one of the schools Carla had found during their search that required boarding or even let Christopher go home with his grandparents when they begged Eddie to move back to Texas. Eddie could have ‘made his life easier’ if that’s what he wanted, but he chose not to.

“So,” Buck began, gripping Eddie’s hand tight in his as if grasping onto comfort and hoping it never went away, “what did you do instead?”

“I loved him anyway. Through everything - the hard times, the fun times, the times where I wanted to pull my hair out or put him in timeout and never let him out - I just… love him anyway.”

_____________

The dinner was going about half as bad as Buck had figured it would be. He had to resist the urge to check the watch on his wrist every few minutes, knowing that if he stayed too late, he might not be able to find himself over at Eddie’s again when he needed it. He had texted Eddie as he paced outside his sister’s house and asked that Eddie message him at exactly eight on the dot so he could have an excuse to leave. He realized pretty quickly after the dinner had begun that he was going to need his best friend. First, it was the comment about his ‘dangerous’ career and then Buck was reminded of the number of hospital stays he endured without his parents sending so much as a card.

Then they brought out the box of memories of Maddie that they kept for her entire childhood only to be eerily silent when his was nowhere to be found. Chimney tried to ease the tension that hazed the room, but there was nothing that could be done. Buck stared down at his still full plate - he had lost his appetite almost immediately - to try and ignore the conversation around him but he couldn’t.

Not when it became increasingly clear that his parents had every opportunity to choose to love him and they just… didn’t.

It was one snipe at Maddie or Chim and then back to Buck after another and he couldn’t find it in himself to sit there a second longer keeping his mouth shut as he had been forced to the entirety of his young life. When his mother made yet another comment about Doug full well knowing how uncomfortable Maddie - and subsequently, Chim - were at the topic, Buck couldn’t stay calm anymore.

“You never gave up hope?” Buck asked, the venom on his tongue paralyzing everyone around the table. Maddie begged him to stop, the plea clear in her voice and her eyes because she just wanted the night to go smoothly, but Buck refused. “United front, remember?”

Buck barely registered the excuses that spilled from his parent’s mouths; that they never gave up hope for Maddie or that they didn’t know Doug was hurting her. Buck reminded them that while, in their twisted minds, they never gave up hope, they gave up on Maddie. They didn’t help her when she was being beaten to a pulp almost every single night or bother to prove they were there for her, for either of them. Buck was so focused on Maddie, he forgot that they had neglected him, too.

“Actually, you know what? Maybe it does track, because you barely knew what was going on with your own kids when we were under the same roof. Maybe you never gave up hope,” Buck took a deep breath to try and push back the shakiness in his voice so his words might stick, “but you sure as hell gave up on her. You gave up on both of us.”

Buck pushed out of his chair, ignoring the pained eyes of his parents and the sympathetic gazes from Chimney and Maddie. He knew he should just leave, get out of there before he said something he was really going to regret, but his therapist had warned him again continuing to avoid confrontation with the people he cared about so he carried on, holding his arms up and out as if they were shields and turned back toward his parents.

“Oh, and, uh, and you wanna know why I'm really in therapy? It is because I have spent my entire life feeling like a constant disappointment. And you wanna talk about our jobs? You think my job is dangerous?” A ghost of a laugh settled somewhere in his chest. “I have walked through fire every single day of my life because of you!” Buck spat, his throat burning with emotion, his voice like gravel with anger and resentment. “ That is why I am in therapy. Because nothing I ever did was good enough!”

“We tried, but you always…” His dad began and there it was again; that blame that Buck held onto ever since he was a kid and that he carried with him into adulthood.

“You never made it easy on us!” His mom interrupted with tears falling down her cheeks. Because somehow, even after everything he had said, everything was still Buck’s fault. He was never going to get through to them that maybe - just maybe - they were what was wrong. “Either one of you.”

“We were supposed to? We were kids,” Maddie chimed in, her voice breaking with every word. Buck wanted to comfort her but when he glanced over, he realized Chimney had his arm wrapped around her, protecting her from the arguing and the emotion that fogged over them. He was momentarily grateful because for once, he didn’t have to worry about anyone besides himself. Something tugged inside of Buck because there was no one to protect him because the people who were supposed to do just that were looking up at him like they never wanted to see him again.

“Evan, I don't know what you expected us to do!” His mother cried and Eddie’s voice was so clear in his mind.

‘What did you do instead?’ ‘I loved him anyway.’

Buck relented. He was done with the fighting, finished with the way his heart constricted in his chest like the rope his parents tied around it when he was a child was about to slice it in two. He didn't want to feel alone anymore and he was reminded that he was far from it when his phone went off in his pocket. The small vibration that only he could feel resonated through his entire body and soul because with one glance at the clock, he knew the message would belong to Eddie. Even when he felt like he was all alone, Eddie reminded him that wasn’t the case and, without even knowing, pushed Buck into saying exactly what his parents needed to hear.

“Love me anyway.”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 on fox #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #coda fic #4x4 coda #love me anyway #has that line just been on repeat in anyone elses head???#no???#just me??#lak;sdjflkasjfl;as #my writing

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chews-erotically · 4 years

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Waxing Gibbous Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

*Note: I dedicate this installment to the beautiful @ifimayhaveaword, who really made my day today with her lovely messages of support. People like you truly mean the world to me. I appreciate you more than you know.

* Warnings: Some minor angst/ miscommunication/ SMUT (m/f oral, fingering, hand job, spicy kisses) Can’t stop the smut train baybeeee choo choo motherfuckers * Summary: You process the events of the night before, and wonder about your place with Ezra and on the Green * Word Count: 3879 *Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR*

PART FIVE

You Awoke the next morning feeling as if it were some erotic fever dream. You stretched your arm out across the emptiness of the cot pushed beside yours. It was only when you moved to roll onto your back that the deep pang of soreness between your legs reminded you that, yes, what you’d wanted for months had actually happened, and you did indeed feel ruined. Ezra appeared to have left the tent in the early morning haze. You gazed upward at the ceiling of the tent, at the support beams that vaulted the cloth walls. Things were going to be different, that you knew. It did not make you any less apprehensive. He had told you he loved you. Or, more accurately, that he had love for you.

You could not forget the tenderness he’d shown you after you were attacked, but you were well aware that things said in the heat of passion were often a product of an intense moment and were not necessarily reflective of the truth. You chided yourself for ruminating; he’d been a nanosecond from coming inside of a warm body for the first time in undoubtedly several months. From your admittedly limited sexual experiences, proclamations of love and devotion and promises of ardent follow-through were often expressed in the heat of the moment, never to be mentioned again. You usually never saw them again.

This was different, of course, as you literally could not leave. You were both stranded, though you still kept up the pretense of harvesting in the event an opportunity to escape should present itself. The chance of this happening had begun to seem less and less likely- the heyday of the aurelac rush had long since come and gone, and the remaining groups of adventurers to the Green operated more or less on whispered rumors and folklore. The zipper of the tent pulled upward, and Ezra emerged. The flaps were quickly refastened, and he moved to whip his helmet off as you shyly pulled your worn blanket up to your neck. You had been wanton and vocal the night before, but in the light of the morning you felt fragile, unsure. Ezra looked to you, seemingly amused by your sudden modesty. The corner of his mouth tilted up, his warm brown eyes twinkled. The blond patch of hair, a rogue among it’s dark compatriots, stuck out wildly in response to the chaotic divestment of his helmet. He wasn’t even close to you and your heart started pounding. “Ah, good morning to you, Dove. I was hoping you would continue your slumber a bit longer. I have spent some time in the early light surveying the Green for signs of life and transport, not necessarily in that order, of course.” In the months since you’d first met him in the clearing on that fateful day, his arm had fully recovered thanks to your ministrations- all that remained was a cratered, puckering pink scar on the skin of his bicep. He wore a threadbare grey tee under his suit and this drew your eye to the wound. If something were to happen to you, if this did not pan out and you either died or escaped, were separated, would he remember you when he saw his scar? Would it be with fondness, or would it only remind him of how traumatic this all was? Why am I thinking like this? It was the fact that he had admitted, out loud, that he was looking for a way out, a way off of the Green. You knew that you would both die if you could not find a way to go, it was only logical. So why were you nursing this pang of melancholy that had emerged when you’d awoken to find his cot empty? You came back to yourself, and noted the concern etched on Ezra’s face as he contemplated you. “Have I said or done something to upset you, Dove? That has rendered you mute?” He moved across the floor of the tent with a lithe grace and perched on the edge of your cot, placing a hand on your knee. “Are you feeling alright?” You sighed, smiling softly when you felt his touch on you, warm and heavy. “Better than alright, Ez. I….can’t….I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened last night.” He creased his brow in contemplation and turned to face you fully. “I must admit, I myself did not envision such intimacy occurring between us in the manner it did. I…. fear I may have been a fair bit rougher than I meant to be at the outset. I need you to be truthful if I hurt you in any way.” You bit your lip, and your neck and face felt hot. Flashes of him caging you, filling you, his words, hot breath and hands, the way the cot had creaked like it was pleading for its life… “I….really loved everything about last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone...like that. So honestly, I’m sore. But in a...good way?” He surged forward, framing your face with his hands. His voice left his plush lips in a hoarse whisper. His eyes held yours, hypnotic and deep. “Will you feel me with every step you take today? I’m going to watch you. I have never felt such intensity with anyone the way I felt it when we took our pleasure last night. I don’t want it to stop.” You were flushed, your ears buzzed. Your mind filled with static. How could he practically dismantle you in this way with only words? You realized your mouth was hanging open. You snapped it shut and swallowed audibly. Ezra’s clever tongue darted to wet his lips before squeezing your knee and standing. “Get dressed, Dove. We’ve a day ahead of us.”

It was another hot day in the Green, and you both resumed your digging, harvesting and cataloguing as if it were any other afternoon. For all intents and purposes, it was. Ezra waxed poetic about the juxtaposition of the beauty surrounding you beside the deadliness of the air, how the regular exchange of oxygen, hydrogen and carbon dioxide were perverted carbon copies of the vegetation you were both used to which processed and sustained an atmosphere more life-sustaining. You hummed at the appropriate moments, but your mind was on your conversation in the tent. What he had said to you seemed indicative of the fact that he intended to continue a physical relationship. It made you feel equal parts giddy and insecure. You frowned in thought. Snap the fuck out of it. You’re no delicate, blushing maiden. You know yourself. You’re seriously thinking like some incapable, dependent damsel the second you get some good dick?? Except you moved a certain way while crouching down and you winced, gasping softly. Ezra stopped mid-sentence and turned his gaze toward you, his eyes dark, his tongue once again flicking out to moisten his lips. “Are you injured, little Dove?” he asked, smiling softly. “Uh, no, not exactly. You know, what I told you before...I’m fine, really.” He sauntered over to you and held out his hand. You grasped it, and he pulled you to your feet so that your helmets were touching. “As cocky as I may have seemed at the outset in regards to the way I left my mark on you, do not think it is no little concern to me to see your movements impaired. My words were not meant to denote any sadistic pleasure taken in regards to your objective discomfort.” His hands were stroking gently up and down your arms as he spoke. You shrugged under his hands, a flash of annoyance crossing your features. “I’m really fine, Ez. I’m not some wilting flower that you’ve irreparably damaged with your Godlike virility. I promise you, my delicate, blushing womanhood will recover.” Ezra cocked an eyebrow in surprise. His hands stilled as he paused a beat before responding. “Now that is something I would not anticipate. The thought that for one moment I consider you anything less than an equal, in fact a superior to myself in several ways, not the least of which include cunning and resilience. It saddens me that you think that of me.” All at once you felt like a jerk. Damn this emotional lability, damn this stubborn pride. Ezra was genuinely concerned that you were in pain, and you were jumping at the opportunity to argue semantics and gender roles. On a toxic planet you were both stranded on, no less. You reached for his gloved hand, squeezing firmly. His hand squeezed back, equally firm. “I don’t know why I said that, Ezra. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I sound like an asshole, I’m sorry.” You’ve gotten into me.

You were back in the tent after determining that the day's work had finished. It was quiet, Ezra ruminated. The tension had surely rebuilt itself over the course of the day, there was only so much harvesting, so much concentration on work that could be accomplished, before it came to this. The both of you, stripped to your thermals. You lay as you had countless times before, facing one another on your cots. Ezra swept his thumb lazily back and forth across your knuckles. You felt like you could drown in the depths of him. “I’m sorry again about what I said to you today. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it.” “Though you have nothing to apologize for, Dove, I will readily accept if it will still the turbulence within you. I meant what I said, and I have you to thank for every bit of happiness I doubted I’d ever feel in this Kevva-forsaken place. My arm, my livelihood. My life. If not for you I’d have faded forgotten like so many other poor, foolish dupes. My very survival is due to your strength and intellect.” You felt full to bursting at his words, overwhelmed by his sincerity. You couldn’t respond, so you propelled yourself forward and pressed your lips to his desperately. He stilled only momentarily, startled at your boldness, before he responded hungrily. Lips slid, teeth clashed. His tongue begged entry into your mouth, which you granted with a whimper. He tasted somehow sweet, wild. His breaths gasped into your mouth, you pushed your own back into him. Hands tangled in hair. You had yet to see him unclothed, you reached out and grasped his shirt in your needy fist. Ezra immediately took the hint and stripped it. You removed your own and his hands were at once on your breasts, large warm hands that enveloped each in turn, greedy and restless. He couldn’t touch enough of you at once. His hands moved to your waist, tearing at your pants. You helped him pull them off and fling them to the ground. You felt like you were radiating heat, you were a thermal detonator. Ezra pinched your nipple, applying slight pressure into the bud with his thumb nail. Your nerves sparked and sang, your ass arching off of your cot like you’d been hit by an electrical current. You gasped, your trembling hands moving to divest him of his pants. His hand shot down to still yours. You both paused, the only sound within the confines of your quarters were the loud gasps that echoed between you. “Is….is something wrong?” Ezra fought to still his breathing. “Sweet girl, I have not forgotten my rough congress with you the night before. I do not want to risk exacerbating your discomfort. You should recover, first, from our mutual enthusiasm.” You groaned in frustration. “I’ll be fine. Ezra, I promise you won’t break me.” You palmed him through his trousers, Kevva he was so hard. So hot. You swore you were salivating. Ezra stilled, breath held in an attempt to maintain his composure. “Please grant me this, at least for my own peace of mind. Just for tonight. Allow me, if I may, to indulge in an alternate form of intimacy, one which I’ve dreamed of sharing with you since your first trick with the Sater.” The last sentence was gritted out between clenched teeth. Your eyes wide, you bit your lip and barely finished a frenzied nod before Ezra was pinning your hands above your head and scraping his teeth against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. It was somehow different, more measured, if no less intense. You let a shiver run through your body as Ezra moved down to first one breast, then the other. He opened his mouth wide and covered the entirety of your nipple and sucked. You gasped, already overwhelmed. You felt as if you could lose your mind as he possessed you. Teeth scraped and teased, and he made sure the peak of your breast was properly slicked before repeating the motions on your other breast. You keened out into the cycled air of the tent as the wet surface of your skin cooled, warring with the sinful furnace of Ezra’s mouth on your other breast. He disengaged, intentions clear as he continued to kiss, lick, and nip down the length of your body. You were struck mute and trembling. You didn’t realize he had let go of your hands, and you were so mesmerized that you kept them stationary above your head. Ezra reached your drenched core and settled between your legs, pressing feather-light kisses to your inner thighs as you whimpered. He was going to kill you. He paused, and as you realized he was beginning to part your inner folds you started and reflexively started to close your legs. Ezra huffed, placing a searing palm against the inside of your knee in protest. “Don’t be shy, sweet girl. There is no shame here with me. I consider it a compliment of the highest order that you are blooming for me like this.” He moved to lay his head against the side of your thigh. He felt inches away from you. You could feel every warm exhale against your dripping sex, hypersensitive, attuned to every word and movement. “Look at you,” he crooned reverently. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen arousal so profound. Glistening like a jewel. Every blushing fold spread open and ready. The temple of this divine cunt fluttering and weeping for me.” You choked out a broken groan at his words and tilted your hips toward him desperately. Impossibly, you felt him closer, his breaths tiny explosions on your swollen core. He groaned back in response and dragged his fingers languidly through your slick. “.....smell so good…” Before you could register his words he darted forward and licked from your clenching hole up to your clit, his tongue wide and flat. Ezra ran his tongue back down to your base before repeating the motion twice more. It was a feeling so intense, sensation so overwhelming to you, that you could not speak, only throw your head back with eyes and mouth wide in a silent scream. Your hands hammered down to your sides and you tore at the sheets beneath you. “....taste so fucking good.” You gasped his name like a prayer. You were incapable of speech, your mind blank. Over the din of white noise between your ears, you heard Ezra speaking your name reverently. You forced your head up to meet his gaze. Your arousal was a wet sheen across his face, his eyes blown wide, hair wild. So beautiful. “You still with me, Dove?” You could only give him another desperate nod. You then watched, eyes wide and shocked, as Ezra opened his wicked mouth and let a strand of spittle drip down from his lips and roll down to coat your engorged clit. “Ezra...oh my fucking God,” You moaned. He could kill you in this moment, snuff your life like a wasted candle and you would thank him. When he next attached his mouth to you and began to tongue your fluttering cunt, you could not stop the noises that left your gasping mouth. You could not keep track of the groans, whimpers, screams, pleas that left you like an incantation. If you’d been able to form a coherent thought, you may have even supposed (correctly) that Ezra would be cataloguing every single one. When he moved his mouth back to your aching clit, he replaced his tongue with two thick fingers and entered you easily. He began a slow, deep pace while his tongue danced across and upon your bud. Your legs began to shake of their own accord, muscles jumping and fluttering. Ezra placed a hand across your stomach to steady you, murmuring low praises. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. So good. Come for me sweetheart. Let go, release onto my tongue, spill your ecstasy into my mouth.” He resumed the labor of his fingers within your walls and latched his mouth to your bud and began sucking. The pressure in your belly, between your legs, through your limbs stretched tight and snapped, and you roared Ezra’s name into the void of the Green. You were shaking, you were flying apart, the world could be crumbling down around you, you did not care. I’m dying, you thought. You could not think beyond the white-hot, searing pleasure that sparked through and lit up every nerve ending. Ezra worked you through your explosive release, easing you down with slow licks and kisses as he greedily consumed every drop of his victory. He finally relented and crawled back up your shaking body. He kissed you wantonly, gasping into your mouth. You tasted your own arousal and release on his lips and tongue- it was intoxicating. He kissed you as if he would die if he stopped, his hands cradling your face. “Ezra,” you moaned, your breaths and heart rate finally beginning to slow. “Ezra, that was…..” You felt him smirk against your mouth. You gasped out a laugh and wound your arms around his shoulders. “Proud of yourself, are you?” You swore on your soul that he giggled. “While I must admit fault has never been found in my technique, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a response so….intense. You do wonders for my ego, Dovie.” He whispered, tucking his nose into your neck. You stroked his back, your limbs heavy and loose. You could have drifted away like this but for the hardness you felt against your hip. “Hey, Ez?” “Mmmfff.” “What about you?” To punctuate your point, your hand reached down to palm him through his trousers. Ezra’s demeanor immediately changed, lazy grin stilling as he gasped and groaned against you. “I believe I told you I wanted you in my mouth last night, Ezra. I still do.” “You don’t have to, sweet one. I wanted to take care of you tonight,” he gasped, even as he began to rock his hips into your open hand. “I want to take care of you, too,” You whispered against his mouth. You were startled by the desire flooding into you once again- Ezra had fully wrung you out, you should be exhausted. Instead, the flames of your lust were stoked once again as you rolled him onto his back and began to undo his pants. Ezra stared down at you, his breathing hitched and baited. His hands were fisted on either side of him, he looked almost scared to move. You revealed his swollen aching cock, red and weeping. He was so aroused the head of him was almost purple. You swore you could see his pronounced veins pulsating. Your felt your cunt clench, further shocking you. You realized your mouth was watering. “I need this divine cock in my mouth, Ezra. I want to watch you fall apart for me.” Ezra whined, hands clutching in desperation as yours were only a short time before. You flashed him a salacious grin and opened your mouth to spew your own string of saliva to cascade down the head of his cock. Ezra gasped, eyes wide. “Turnabout is fair play, Sir.” Shudders racked his body as you lowered your head, placing delicate kisses at the base of him before working your way up. Ezra quickly became a panting, groaning mess, knocking his head into the pillow. The cords of his neck stood out in stark relief as his hips canted upward in search of more of your mouth, more of anything. “Please, sweet girl,” he moaned, is voice thin and reedy, “Please. I need more….” You glanced up at him as your hand slowly pumped his length, considering, before once again leaning forward. Without preamble you opened your mouth and took him down as far as you could. The cries that erupted from him at your action could have awakened any floater within a 15-mile radius. You wanted to hear it again, so you dislodged him from your mouth before repeating your action. You clasped hour hands around the sizable part of him that did not fit, lacing your fingers together. You pressed your palms against the slick shaft and worked him slowly and steadily while the obscene, wet noises coming from your mouth reverberated throughout your quarters. Ezra was properly wrecked, sobbing and gasping, pleading for you to continue. “You're going to kill me,” he whined, and it caused a fresh flood of arousal to run down the insides of your thighs. He was so, so close. You could feel his cock twitch and swell impossibly. You raised your eyes to meet his, mouth popping off of him, strands of spit stretching like cables between your parted lips and his glistening head. Catching your breath, you wiped the back of your hand across your mouth. “Come in my mouth, Ezra.” Ezra could only whimper in response, hands buried in your hair as you sank back onto him. You bobbed your head once, twice, three times, and then he was painting your mouth and tongue with his seed. You struggled to swallow it all, it seemed neverending. Ezra sobbed, shouting half-formed words and unintelligible praises into the air. His hips twitched and rolled up rhythmically as you struggled to keep him captured within the confines of your mouth. You swallowed each spurt eagerly until Ezra tugged at your hair, hypersensitized, to pull you up his chest. His limbs trembled in aftershocks as his arms wrapped around you. His heart continued to hammer in his chest as you lay your head on him. You reached a hand up to cup his face. Ezra leaned into it, turning his head and placing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “You are magical, Dove. Transcendent. I do not deserve you.” You yawned and burrowed your head into the crook of his neck. You were suddenly exhausted. You stayed entwined on your cots, breaths slowing and steadying as you both found your slumber. Inhaling as you exhaled, you dreamed of escape, daring to hope against hope that there was a way to leave and make your way to something better. Something you both deserved.

#chews-erotically writes Ezra Ezra-Prospect

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op-peccatori · 4 years

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The MLQC Boys and Sleeping/Bedtime Habits (nsfw-ish)

more ‘quick thoughts’ lmao...I can go on and on when it comes to these men. Literally had to step away from the keyboard.

Rating: Mature

Tags/Warnings: mentions of/implies sexy times but nothing too explicit, this wasn’t meant to be so long wtf, unedited atm

song of the moment: little things by one direction

Kiro:

Most open to being the little spoon! Although he likes curling around you, likes to feel like he can protect you from anything, he also enjoys feeling your arms curled around him. You’re the treasure, and he’s the dragon guarding his hoard. Under his bright exterior is a fierce love, resolute and undying, which most people will never get to see.

This is something he’s told you before, and he hopes he’s done a good job conveying it—to him, you’re home. Climbing into bed with you after a long day is the only good way to end that day. He loves singing to you, whether it’s a soft ballad or a completely made up silly song. You can’t count on hand the number of times you’ve giggled over the songs you two have created, silly whispers in the dark, fingers stroking warm skin. Some nights are quiet, with your bodies doing the talking, pressing your love into each other’s skin, smiling into soft kisses. It’s like basking in your own personal sunshine, the warmth seeping into your very bones, leaving you with only hope and the belief that everything will be okay.

He’s your partner in crime. Midnight snacking, gaming and dance parties until you collapse.

Nights spent away from you are spent video calling you, singing to you onscreen, showing you any new foods he’s tried. He tries to keep days away from you at a minimum, and though he tries really hard to control that feeling of sullenness and unease when he’s not with you, the fact of the matter is that his day is just incomplete if he doesn’t get to talk to you or see your face.

It’s not surprising to wake up with his face buried in your stomach, or with his leg curled over you. Kiro truly treats you like his own beloved stuffed toy, and you can’t help but melt in his warm embrace as you both watch a movie. Neither of you is very good with horror movies, but watching them together as you cuddle in fear is better. You’re always stronger together, after all. Both of you have a hard time going to sleep after, choosing to play games to distract yourselves.

However, if you do happen to be good with horror, prepare yourself for an armful of Kiro, and to be the big spoon that night.

Lucien:

He doesn’t glue himself to you. Sometimes, he’s content to face you and watch you drift into sleep, or run his fingers through your hair until you sleepily cuddle closer to him. You grow bolder with your requests for him to read to you, his voice always soothing your stressed-out mind; nothing delights him more than seeing you inch closer to him even in your sleep, although he’s aware that it’s probably just due to his body heat.

He’s a movie buff, and you love listening to his interpretations of the plots, and the dialogue. He’s not a snob about his choices, he’ll watch anything. He does enjoy watching the LOTR movies, which never fail to–eventually–put you to sleep no matter how big a fan you are.

If he does fall asleep next to you, you might wake up with his hand still tangled in your hair, or laced with yours. Just a little contact with you feels grounding to him. It’s enough to calm the raging waters beneath his skin, to fill him with contentment. You love waking him up with butterfly kisses, because you know what he’ll do, and you pretend to be surprised every single time–when his lips curl up a little before his eyes have even opened, and sneaky fingers wrap around your waist so he can give you a proper good morning kiss.

You’ve been embarrassed about him watching you sleep quite often, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to you–how human it makes him feel. When it’s just you two in bed, he’s just a man in bed with the love of his life. He doesn’t remember ever having someone let their guard down around him so fully, and sleep without a care in the world. Every incoherent word you mumble, every little twitch, it’s seared into his memory. It actually makes him want to try harder and actually sleep, to join you in that other mystical world.

For the longest time, he looked forward to waking up next to you, just to see what he’ll wake up to. Will you be hanging off the edge of the bed? Will your face be burrowed into his armpit? It’s all very exciting for him, even if it makes little sense. For someone who’s delved into things most people can’t possibly comprehend, these are such tiny things. But they mean the world to him, and he could spend the rest of his life noting them down in his head.

Lucien craves intimacy, so badly that he has to rein it in, lest he scares you away. Especially when you both give into your desires and he loses himself in your skin–it shows in his eyes. You’re rendered speechless when you lock eyes with him, feeling so completely exposed as if he’s peering into your very soul. And he feels the same, because his eyes are where his emotions exhibit themselves, but only to you. It’s like looking into an unexplored yet inviting abyss, terrifying yet exhilarating, with promises of discovering things about yourself you couldn’t have even imagined.

Initially, it’s always Lucien who’s pulling you into his arms, taking over, sheltering you. When you finally convince him to place his head on your lap, carding your fingers through his hair, it’s as if he’s discovered something new. He enjoys pressing his face into your stomach during afternoon naps, shedding his armour and weapons for a brief respite. He feels like he could shatter into a million little pieces when you trace his features with curious fingertips until you’ve had your fill, which is never. He doesn’t quite know how to cope with the fact that you’re just as crazy about him as he is about you. On the surface, he’s thrilled. But with Lucien, you need to look deeper, and you’ll see the disbelief, the terror, the possessiveness, the vulnerability that comes with loving someone so deeply.

Once he’s had a taste, Lucien will do everything in his power to spend every night with you. He loathes sleeping alone, in a cold bed, and only feels better when he receives a selfie of you wrapped up in his shirt. If you just happen to give him a glimpse of bare skin, revealing the lack of clothing underneath, he’s calling you right away. He loves instructing you over the phone and receiving your own breathless demands. He loves hearing your breath even out as you fall asleep after, finally settling his heart down.

Gavin:

The first time you fell asleep next to Gavin, he couldn’t fall asleep the entire night. His nerves were on fire, and he was so afraid of making the slightest of movements and waking you up. It took a while for him to lift his eyes to your face. He felt a little guilty about it, but he couldn’t look away. You looked so beautiful even in your sleep, and it robbed him of all tiredness. He isn’t used to sleeping next to someone. This isn’t about taking charge and looking out for you. This is about relaxing.

He jolts if you mumble anything in your sleep, straining his ears to catch the words. Gavin takes time to really get used to you sleeping in his bed. The girl of his dreams (teenage and adult) tossing an arm over him, nuzzling his chest. The first few times, it’s a shame you’re not awake to witness the way he smiles. An arm thrown over his face to hide his burning cheeks, but it doesn’t help with the happiness swelling in his heart. He feels incredibly full with it.

Despite his shy smiles, romance comes to him rather easily. He doesn’t even realise it but he makes you feel so loved with just a few simple actions, you only wish he could accept the same from you. You have to bulldoze past his protests that ‘he’s fine’, massaging his sore feet or back–you get your reward in his snores, in his relaxed limbs, in the automatic way he pulls you into him when you settle next to him.

He loves hearing about your day. You can go on and on, thinking he’s probably tuned out, but he’s paying attention to every word that comes out of your mouth. Slowly, he starts sharing what he can of his days too. At first, he tries to hide the dangerous things, but when you insist on it, he shares–with as little detail as possible. It’s an important step for him, learning to share his troubles, his needs, his desires. He’s never been one for naps, but can’t help it when you curl into him. You feel so incredibly loved, nearly worshipped, and you’re warm with it. What you have to do is show him how important he is. Hold him close, tell him as many times as it takes (even if it’s forever) that he is loved, that he’s in your heart. Be there for him as he heals, as he comes to accept his own value. All he needs is for you to love him.

He doesn’t know how to ask for sex, afraid of pushing your boundaries or pressuring you. The day he slips a hand below your shirt, stroking soft skin, you nearly derail the attempt by beaming at him in absolute joy. It’s fixed by curling your leg over his hip and your slipping fingers into his hair, showing him how much you like it.

He doesn’t watch TV. But watching something with you, watching you react to whatever’s going on is amusing. To your delight, he does end up liking Brooklyn Nine-Nine quite a bit. It’s fascinating to watch him laugh softly, amber eyes shining with mirth–until he notices you staring and blushes. Tell him how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed and he might stop breathing.

Victor:

It might take you both a while to really settle into this intimate space. Victor is such a private man, and his bed is the deepest part of his fortress–he has his own sleeping habits, and you’re not sure if you should press. You’re not sure if he likes his space in bed. At the time same, Victor is agonising over whether or not it’s okay to just pull you close and bury his head in your fair. He does eventually notice you inching closer, waiting for him to react, until there’s barely a few inches between you. A whisper from you about the cold will have him suppressing a smile as he winds an arm around you.

It doesn’t matter if the temperature in the room is actually perfect–he keeps you close. When he wakes up in the morning to find himself curled around you, his front to your back, he decides that from now on, this is how it’s going to be. He loves spooning you but will never admit it, always feigning ignorance when you wake up with a snuggly Victor, even though you had gone to sleep in completely different positions.

He’s a man of action, of never wasting time, but Victor can actually spend the entire day in bed with you, doing absolutely nothing. It’s so cosy he has a hard time leaving the little nest. You’ve spent countless Sundays wrapped in blankets, blowing on hot cocoa, watching the cheesiest rom coms you can find. Victor likes movies with intelligent plots, but what made you fall a little harder for him was discovering all the rom coms suggested for him. He refused to comment on it, scoffed when you said you wanted to watch something romantic but you will never forget the sight of a misty-eyed Victor refusing to look at you after an emotional scene.

His expression when you said you wanted to watch The Time Traveller’s Wife had been priceless.

He has a strict diet and routine, but with your corrupting and persuasive ways, you do manage to talk him into midnight snacking–occasionally. He loves arguing with you over characters’ actions and thought processes, always interested in knowing what you would do in their place. He thinks you look cute when you’re riled up, but isn’t as prepared for the high of emotions that usually ends with his leg slipping between your thighs as your tongue slips into his mouth.

He teases you about snoring, smirking wickedly when you turn flush and flail. What you will never know is how softly he smiles when he hears you snore, amused more than anything as he tugs you closer and you press your face into his neck. Sometimes, you mumble things about food. Even though you won’t remember it, he cooks it for you the next day. It’s his own little way of fulfilling wishes you’re not even aware of.

Please cuddle with him. He doesn’t know how to initiate it other than just taking you into his arms. Hold him close, kiss his hair, tease him. Climb onto his lap or pull him onto yours. Learn to read his face and body, because there’s so much he doesn’t know how to say.

He’s always believed naps are a waste of time but it’s also never stopped him from indulging. With you, he’ll still complain–even as he loosens his tie and plops down, looking up at you expectantly, and holds on tighter when it’s time to get up. Falling asleep with Victor feels like stepping into the ice fortress, only to find unbelievable warmth and safety inside. You never want to leave.

He feels a little pathetic when he’s away from you, feeling dejected and cold in his silent hotel room. Thoughts he’ll never voice out loud spring up, dramatic in their very nature. It’s awful, he thinks, being on his own. Are you thinking about him? Is it too early for a bedtime call? Is he being too needy? He’s not very good at sending pictures or video calling, and he resorts to excuses when he calls even though he just wanted to hear your voice. If you tell him you miss him, he’ll melt instantly. Keep talking, even if he’s not listening to every word, the sound of your voice is enough to bring him warmth. You can hear his sleepy responses to your words, but you know there’s no point in asking if he wants to go sleep–he won’t want to hang up until you’re both asleep.

#mlqc #mlqc headcanons #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mr love: queen's choice

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snakeboistan · 4 years

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WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

So as @assclasssideblog said, we need more Sugino x Nagisa content in our lives so allow me to give you a completely canon missing scene from Season 1.

Sugino groaned as he felt a cold towel replace the now room temperature cloth that Okuda placed on his forehead earlier, relief flooding his overheated body. He heard a faint hum of laughter and wearily flickered his eyes open to see a hazy figure with striking blue hair towering above him. Yelping, he shot up - fully awake now - only to have his vision focus and find Nagisa looking at him in fond amusement. Ignoring the way his towel had started sliding down his face in response to his sudden movement and was now comically resting on his face like a sprawled out starfish, he gave the bluenette a relieved smile, his voice slightly croaking half from drowsiness and half from the weakness caused by the poison that was flowing in his body, “Nagisa. You guys made it.”

“We did,” Nagisa’s eyes brightened and he handed Sugino a glass filled with a dark liquid, “and we have good news: you guys are going to be fine. You weren’t actually poisoned. The guy that made it actually betrayed the person that hired him and just gave you a really bad stomach bug - it should be gone in about a day but this should help you feel better.”

“Really? Sweet.” Sugino tilted the glass in a silent ‘bottoms up’ gesture before downing it, being careful to not spill any on the futon he was resting on. Wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist, he asked, “so did you find out who ordered the hit on us?”

Nagisa’s face darkened slightly as he mumbled, “Takaoka.”

If it weren’t for the fact that the after-effects of the not-actually-poison-but-still-made-him-feel-terrible concoction still rendered him rather infirm, he would’ve shouted loud enough for all of Okinawa to hear but his head still felt like it was floating in the clouds so he whispered harshly, “what? Why?”

“He wanted revenge for being publicly humiliated by a Junior High kid,” Nagisa’s face was wracked with guilt and his voice softened considerably, “that’s why he wanted me specifically. He wanted to recreate the fight we had earlier - me beating him really did a blow on his self-esteem and the respect he had from his coworkers.”

Sugino looked at his best friend in shock, “Nagisa, you can’t seriously be blaming yourself for what that psychopath did. The man’s a deranged a**hole - if you didn’t stand up to him, who knows what would’ve happened.”

Nagisa’s eyes lowered and he fiddled with the side of Sugino’s futon, “yeah, but the fact remains that he was targeting me and all of my friends got caught in the cross-fire.”

“Well, it’s not like you came out completely unharmed,” Sugino’s eyes dragged down Nagisa’s kneeling form in perturbation. The bluenette wasn’t wearing the hoodie he had on when he left so his bare arms showcased raw red scrapes and painful looking grazes and his pale face sported a large abrasion with a trail of dried blood that ran from the corner of his mouth to the end of his chin, “what the hell did he do to you?”

“I-it’s fine, really,” Nagisa was quick to reassure. Sugino didn’t believe him, “I barely feel a thing, honest. Besides, you were the one who was coughing up blood about an hour ago.”

“Hey, don’t try to turn this around,” Sugino chastised lightly, trying to portray that he was more worried than angry, “you look terrible. Here, sit down next to me.”

Nagisa just blinked at the spot on the futon that Sugino patted before drawing his confused gaze to the black-haired boy’s face.

Sugino blamed his flushed cheeks on the stomach bug, “This mattress is big enough for the both of us and we really could use a rest: I need to sleep off this fever and you look like you just came from a battle.”

The shorter boy looked at him for a beat before lowering his gaze with a blush and taking off his trainers so that he could scooch over on the mattress and lay his head on the other’s shoulder.

Nagisa played with one of Sugino’s scarlet wristbands as the wristband-wearer tilted his own head so that it rested on his blue locks, “I was so worried about you. The entire time I was down here, all I could think about was how you guys had to go against some crazy guy that literally tried to kill us and I couldn’t have helped. I mean you did have Karasuma-Sensei and he’s a total bad*** but Koro-Sensei’s trapped in a ball and we’re all just teenagers at the end of the day. There was a very big chance that all of you wouldn’t have made it.”

“I was worried about you, too” Nagisa replied softly, having placed his hands on his lap and looking at them intently, “while I was in the tower, I kept on seeing you and the rest of them just coughing out blood and in pain and - and I was so scared that we were going to fail, that we wouldn’t be able to do it and you all will die. And then when Takaoka-”

Sugino looked at Nagisa when the boy had cut himself off, clearly not wanting to discuss what actually happened when he and half of the class had left to find the person who had informed them that the infected had only a few hours to live. He noticed that Nagisa had more injuries than the rest of the class combined and although he was itching to find out the details, he knew that a full recount can be given later - and by someone who would not most likely soften the details of how badly their disgraced PE teacher had treated the resident bluenette. With a small smile, Sugino wrapped an arm around Nagisa causing the other to stiffen slightly and give him yet another perplexed look.

“It’s alright,” he smiled, “you beat him again and we’re all better now thanks to you, it’s alright. You don’t have to say anything else.”

Nagisa relaxed a bit at his best friend’s gentle tone, wanting badly to snuggle into his comforting embrace but thinking better of it (‘after all, he still has poison in his system.’ Nagisa explained to himself, ‘not as dangerous as we initially thought, but poison no less’). He lifted his cyan eyes to meet the other’s navy, reading nothing but warm affection in their soft gaze. After a while he swallowed and nodded, “thank you.”

Sugino tightened his grip ever-so-slightly, “just saying the truth.”

The two of them sat there on the futon, their silence being all of the conversation they needed as they watched the twinkling stars above.

#assassination classroom #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota #sugino x nagisa #sugino tomohito #tomohito sugino #my writing

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zacc-attacc · 4 years

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Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark.

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying.

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy.

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds.

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!”

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was.

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi.

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief.

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered.

Davey.

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me.

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying.

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack.

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night.

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him.

His laughter had always been contagious.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers.

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh.

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking.

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight.

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school.

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook.

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang.

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk.

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress.

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang.

“What?”

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore.

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were.

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin.

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night.

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us.

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me.

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me.

Wait, away?

It was only then that I realized how close we are.

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him.

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin.

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried.

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.”

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled.

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?”

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath.

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words.

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on.

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing.

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability.

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears.

His hands were soft.

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter.

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow.

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up.

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are.

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-”

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens.

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me.

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own.

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball.

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake.

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string.

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and-

His lips were on mine.

Too passionately to be accidental.

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough.

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting.

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true.

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream.

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

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quentinxdelancret · 3 years

Text

PUSHING THE LIMITS || Quoman

Discord thread featuring: Quentin and Roman @romanbeckett

When: May 5th 2021

Mentions: @aaronhart93

Description: Quentin goes all edgy dom with Roman and they end up pushing the limits.

TW: SMUT!!! Edging, light BDSM, and other hardcore things.

Quentin. After Quentin’s surgery, the boys had been taking things pretty easy. Sure they would still get rough with each other, but not to the level either one of them really enjoyed. That was what made tonight so perfect. They were both drunk and feeling no pain. It made Quentin want to do things he hadn’t done in what felt like way too long. He sent one last text to his boyfriend and then made his way into their closet full of sex toys. Grabbing the rope and two pairs of handcuffs for good measure. He was stumbling around just a bit, but he made it to Roman’s room with impeccable timing. Finding his boyfriend laying on his bed in his favorite purple lingerie. “Fuck baby, you look so sexy” he complimented as he shut the door behind him and locked it. Aaron was in the master bedroom asleep and Des was down the hall. So he couldn’t risk waking them or having either of them walking in. Although, Aaron walking in would have only heightened the mood. “Give me your phone” he said with a firm command. Taking the iPhone from his lover and snapping a couple of photos of him before setting the phone on record and setting it up on the dresser. “Come’re” he then said with a softer yet still firm command. Placing one end of each pair of cuffs around his boyfriends wrists. “This is just in case it’s too much” Q informed. Letting the empty end of the cuffs dangle as he pulled Roman to sit on the edge of the bed. “Take this off” he gestured to the lingerie. Pulling off his own joggers as he watched the taller undress.Fuck, he really was so damn beautiful. Q was already getting a semi just from watching the way he moved as he took of the ensemble. Once they were both naked, Q placed the other ends of the cuffs to his own wrists. “You can struggle if you want to baby. But if you really want me to stop, you have to blink your eyes three times. Got it?” This was an about to be an experience for them both, and the more Q thought about it the harder he became. “Lay back.. I wanna get you nice and hard baby” he instructed as he knelt down onto the floor between romans legs. Both his hands wrapping around his lovers cock as he began to stroke him aggressively.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. Quentin was one person who understood Roman’s kinks more than almost anyway. He was already hard as a rock from all the pregaming festivities, so he didn’t waist any time helping Q get his cuffs on, and then wiggled out of his lingerie as best he could before scooting back naked, and spread eagle on the bed for his boyfriend. “You look so sexy daddy...what’re you gonna do do me?” The Brit asked with huge tongue between his teeth.

Quentin. The look on Roman’s face had him grinning like a fucking idiot. But he tried so hard to stay in character. “I’m gonna make you cum like you’ve never came before” he replied. Continuing to stroke his lover with both hands, twisting his wrists and letting his palm brush over his tip. “Mmm you’re so hard for me already baby” he smiled deviously. Moving one of his hands and pulling Roman’s along with it as he pinched and teased at his nipples. “You like that, baby?” he asked. Hovering his mouth over his lovers cock and letting his spit drip over him as a form of lube. “Shiiit.. you’re so fucking big” he exasperated. Stroking his cock more vigorously as he reached for the rope with his other hand.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. “Mmmm baby...” the actor gasped, Ruby red lips parted as his hips began to grind a little to the rhythm was hi boyfriend’s strokes. He was so hard, and throbbing, and most definitely leaking pre cum all over his boyfriend’s hand. “God that feels so good...it’s all yours baby....” Roman’s breath caught in his throat when Q began to speed up the pumps while reading for a rope. That of course made roman bite his bottom lip in curiosity.

Quentin. There was nothing sexier in the world than the way Roman looked when he fully submitted. Quentin could honestly stare at him like this all fucking day. But right now, he had a job to do, and that was to make his boyfriend feel as good as humanly possible without actually letting him cum. “Yeah...? You’re my little cock slut aren’t you baby?” he asked with a half smirk. His own lust and arousal setting in as he wrapped the rope around Roman’s neck. He removed his hand from around his lovers cock and watched it twitch for more attention for a moment before leaning down to kitten lick at the underside of his tip. “Mmm so delicious” he hummed. Grabbing and end of the rope in each of his hands before scooting up to kneel over his lover. His knees pressing firm into the mattress on each side of his boyfriends chest as he used to rope to pull him closer.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. of course Roman let Quentin pull the rope around his neck, preparing for the moment his boyfriend was going to use it to restrict his breaking. His green eyes were focused up on his lover, squirming at the way he chose to kitten lick at his massive throbbing cock. At the first sensation of the rope becoming snug around the actor’s throat, he lifted his chin up so that Q could see, and then suddenly let out a low sexy moan for his partner. “Gonna shut me up, daddy?” He asked as innocently as possible.

Quentin. Watching Roman squirm for him was such a huge turn on. He loved watching him struggle or beg for more. His body language was so fuckin exquisite. “Oh yeah.. I’m gonna make you shut up alright baby boy” he nodded. Reaching to the night stand and pulling Roman’s arm along with his own as he grabbed the vibrating butt plug from the drawer. “You gonna be a good boy, baby?” he asked once he was positioned back into place. Turning on the vibrator and handing it to his boyfriend to insert into himself. Q licked his lips as he waited for Roman to get situated and then leaned back to let Roman’s cock rub between his bare cheeks. “Does that feel good baby? Do you want more?” he barely gave his boyfriend a chance to respond before he was pulling the rope tighter around his neck.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Quentin knew absolutely everything that Roman loved. He knew how to push him to his limits, making his back arch beautifully of the bed, languid, and compliant to everything his boyfriend had to say. The vibrator was starting to make him squirm a little, distracted by that for a moment while his lover pulled in the rope and began to restrict the actor’s windpipe and vocal chords. Fuck. Roman loved that feeling so much, immediately pushing into a vulnerable position that had him wining a bit against the pressure as he tilted his head back or Quentin to get a good view of of everything.

Quentin. Quentin was most definitely a switch, and he knew exactly how to use his assets to his advantage. Getting Roman to react to everything he did exactly how he wanted him to and reveling in the vision. He continued to rub against his lovers cock slowly as his lips parted and he let out a soft pleasurable gasp. “God, you’re so sexy baby” his voice trembled lightly. His hips lifting at just the perfect angle to come back down on his boyfriends length. Taking him completely into his heat before lifting to just the tip and squeezing tightly around him. “Mmm fuck...” he hissed through his tight jaw. Rocking back and forth a few times before taking him completely again and tightening the rope a bit tighter. God, he was so fucking hard, he could barely stand the teasing himself. But the way Roman’s body reacted to his movements fueled the Dom inside of him to go a bit harder. Grinding against his lover as he moved his hand to slap his boyfriends face before gripping firmly at his hair. “Let me know if you get close baby, I don’t want you cumming just yet.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman never thought of himself as unattractive since being an adult, but he’d witnessed so many absolutely flawless looking people in his world travels, Quentin being one of them, that it was just extremely difficult not to compare. His eyes were stuck on the lines of his boyfriend’s body — his abs, the sharpness of his cheekbones in comparison with his clavicle. His eyes were a deep blue, even in the dark, and it it weren’t for the rope tightening around his neck, he might have been gasping for those reasons alone. Roman’s cock flexed as soon as he felt Q’s hand smack him across the face, his chest now violently rising up and down from the shot of adrenaline now rolling through his body. When Q’s warning registered, Ro managed to nod his head and tighten his leg around his lover in a silent promise to warn him of any impending orgasm.

Quentin. Those deep green eyes his boyfriend had as he gazed at him, could literally slay him. It was like looking deep into his lovers soul as their bodies moved so beautifully together. Q tightened his grip on his boyfriends hair as he held Roman’s arms in place with his own. The cuffs pulling tight against both of their arms as he continued to rock his body against Roman’s flexing girth. Slowly at first but then grinding more vigorously as the actor tightened his legs around him. “Ughh.. uughh, fuck” he moaned with a slight whimper. Bouncing up and down hard and aggressive for a moment before slowing to and almost stop around his lovers tip. His entire body was tingling with pleasure but he wanted to take his time. Really draw this out for the man he loved more than anything in the world. “Shiiit, baby. You feel so good” he panted. Pulling off of his lover now and repositioning himself on his knees over Roman’s chest. He was sure that vibrator was doing wonders now with the absence of his tight heat around his boyfriends cock. But he pulled at the rope again to distract him, rendering his boyfriend breathless as he rubbed his own cock against his lips.!

𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 The buzzing cock ring around his length was making Roma kick his feet against the mattress, digging in his heels as he wined about the absence of his boyfriend’s ass. It was probably a good thing Quentin moved though, because Ro was very much on the limit, and about to go over the edge with just the right touch. Roman so badly wanted to move his hands, to get them anywhere and everywhere he could touch on the other male, but no matter how much he struggled, the handcuffs were too tight. “Baby...” the actor practically whispered as the rope around his neck tightened, his heart now thudding in his chest hard enough to hear it in his ears. He couldn’t breathe, but was then quickly distracted by the huge cock in his face. Fuck. Roman made eye contact with his boyfriend as his lips touched Quentin’s leaking head, his tongue then slipping out soon after to catch the pre cum.

Quentin. It was clear all over the musicians face that he was experiencing a pleasure like none other before. His mouth gaping open for a moment as Roman’s tongue licked at his leaking cock. “It’s all yours baby” he barely got out through hard snarky breaths. His eyes borrowing into his lovers as he pulled his bottom lip aggressively between his teeth. He couldn’t wait to get his cock balls deep down his lovers throat. Pushing his hips forward a few times against his boyfriends tongue before finally slipping between his lips. “Oh.. my.. god” he gasped. His head falling back as his let Roman swallow his length in it’s entirety. The tightness of his throat with the rope around it really pushing him to a place he hadn’t been to since before his surgery. “Yesss.. fuck, Roman. You like that don’t you, my naughty fuckin cock slut.” He began thrusting slowly into his boyfriends mouth, pulling the rope tighter and then letting it loose over and over.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Anyone who had ever been with Roman knew that he was indeed, a cock slut. Giving head, being fucked, hand jobs, the lot — he truly was a giver, and fuck if he didn’t love giving to Quentin. He had the most amazing cock he’d ever seen, and was every bit worth the challenge of taking every inch right now. Ro had a few times where he gagged, even moments of dizziness, like he was gonna pass out at any second, but he managed to keep it together as he arched his back, and swallowed around the head of his boyfriend’s cock with a deep moan.

Quentin. Roman definitely was a giver. He had done things with Q that honestly, he had never done with an actually lover before. These were things he usually saved for those he was intended to please. But with Roman, he felt like he could slip right into his dirtiest kinks, and Roman would be right there with him loving every minute of it. To most anyone else, they would probably think they were insane. But this was a connection they had that didn’t need any explanation. The understood one another, trust one another, fuck they would literally get off on torturing one another. It didn’t matter how it looked to anyone else. For Quentin, it was the best sex he had ever experienced in his life. His cock was so fuckin hard and flexing within his lovers throat with each and every gag he muffled out. “Ughh... shiiit” he hiss as he deridingly pushed as far as he could into Roman’s throat. Pulling the rope as tight as he could without killing his boyfriend and letting his cock twitch deep against the restriction. “O- fuuuu-” his voice trembled and broke as his mouth gaped open again. He was so close to blowing his load, but he was trying his hardest to hold it back. His entire body trembling as Roman’s began jerking in defense.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman was squirming now with his hands behind his back, the muscles of his throat flexing against the cock lodged inside it. He was choking, and couldn’t stop the tears from pricking to his eyes out of sheer reflex. God, he’d never been so turned on though in his life. He felt helpless, and even if he wanted to use their safe word, it’s not like he could even get it out right now. Ro was starting to slip, he could feel his body weakening to the point it was getting hard to keep his eyes open. Fuck! He couldn’t stop himself anymore, nor could he give his boyfriend a warning before Ro just began to buck his hips, and covered them both in cum.

Quentin. Even with the intense pleasure shooting throughout his entire body. He never took his eyes off of Roman’s. The tears welling up in his eyes from the reflex almost making him feel remorseful, but not enough to actually pull back. He was so glad he didn’t too, because the Roman was hurling over the edge. Exactly how he wanted him. The feeling of his hot sticky cum coating his lower back literally pushing him right over the edge with him. “Fuuuuck... baby” he growled with a surrendering whimper. Pulling the rope unintentionally tighter as his hips bucked, pumping his hit release deep into the back of Roman’s throat.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ It had been a long time since anyone had pushed him this far in bed. It took a certain lack of remorse in the heat of the moment to be able to push past morality for self pleasure. ( though it was definitely mutual here). The rope around Roman’s throat at this point was so tight, he had absolutely no way of swallowing the load just shot into his mouth. He choked, and struggled a little under the other male, hands twisting in the handcuffs before his eyes were rolling back from the lack of oxygen.

Quentin. Roman was such a fuckin champ. Letting Q do things to him that you definitely needed a certain level of trust for. He was gurgling on Quentin’s cum as his eyes rolled back, but he just kept pumping his hips relentlessly waiting for the exact right moment to let him go. “That’s right baby, let it go” he insisted with a low growl. Knowing that vibrator was probably a new torture all it’s own against his boyfriends now sensitive member. “Do it..” he challenged a bit firmer this time. Almost feeling bad at this point that his boyfriend hadn’t passed out yet. But he saw when it was nearing and pulled back instantly. Letting his cock pop from his lovers mouth as he faded out.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman had basically been convulsing when his boyfriend challenged him, jerking from the cock ring squeezing around his sensitive cock, paired with his intense lack of oxygen. He ended up cumming again despite the toy around his length, which was now pretty fucking painful - thank god he liked pain. Ro didn’t even have a chance to swallow the cum in his mouth before Q finally pulled away, the actor’s head turning and causing cum to leak from his lips, and onto the sheets below. He was out cold, but the rush he received the second he woke up again was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It felt like he was seeing stars as he coughed, and pulled air into his lungs as fast as he could manage to. “Fuck.” Was all he could manage to rasp, but that pretty much said it all.

Quentin. When Roman woke up, Q had the cock ring off of him. He was laying on top of him stroking his cheek and using his thumb to wipe away his own cum that leaked from his lips. “Fuck is right” he chuckled breathlessly. “You good baby?” he asked as he moved his free hand to rub at his boyfriends chest. “Jus breathe, baby” he said softly. “love you. I love you so fucking much.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman’s eyes darted all over his boyfriend as he tried to comfort him. His head felt swimmy, clearly living through the after effects of asphyxiation, but he couldn’t even pretend he didn’t love it. “That was amazing.” He smirked at his partner, loving that despite how messed up they technically were, there was still a sense of closeness that came from trusting someone with your life like that. Maybe he was a little addicted. “Was it hard for you to stop, daddy?” Roman rasped, deep green eyes locked on the other’s before he leaned in to nip at Quentin’s chin.

Quentin. Although he was clearly still a bit dazed, Roman literally never looked more beautiful than he did right now. Q couldn’t keep himself from staring at him. Even though that was partly due to the fact that he wanted to make sure he was really okay. He nodded his head with an exquisitely satisfied grin at Roman’s comment and then rolled his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth. “It’s always hard to stop pleasing you, baby. But I love you too much to actually kill you” he teased. A soft grunt falling from his lips as his boyfriend nipped at his chin. “Mmm, you better be careful. You might get me going again” he chuckled.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman managed to giggle when Quentin said he loved him too much to actually kill him, which made the actor practically roll into the other’s lap like a giant dog. “I love you.” He leaned in to whisper the words against his boyfriend’s ear before placing a soft kiss there, and then down the side of his neck with a soft sigh. Q smelled like soap, aftershave, and his shampoo. It was all mixed with an essence of just Quentin, Roman’s favorite scent in the whole world. “I can’t believe you made me cum twice, and with a cock ring on. How the fuck did you manage that??” Ro laughed, and settled with his thighs on either side of Quentin’s lap as he settled in with his arms around the other’s neck.

Quentin. God, he loved snuggling and getting all cuddly after going that hard. It gave him a sense of purpose that he couldn’t ever seem to put into words. “I love you too” he hummed as he closed his eyes and smiled. Stroking his fingers lovingly through his boyfriends hair. “It’s my super power” he mused. His voice becoming heavy with content as he turned his head to kiss Roman softly on his forehead. His other hand lazily tracing patterns on his lovers arm that was draped across his neck. “We should do this every night” he added, this time his voice lore of a whisper. Fuck, he was tired. Maybe he would actually be able to fall asleep for once, and he wouldn’t be surprised either. Roman always seemed to be the cure to all his ailments.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ “Would it be safe to choke the hell out of me every night? I mean I’m not complaining, but that has to cause some sort of damage after awhile, right?” Ro teased before repositioning himself beside Q before pulling him close so that he could rub his hand all over the younger’s back. He placed a few kisses to the musicians’s temple, and then reached to pull the covers up over them. “Fuck. I should probably wash the sheets, huh?” Unless they both wanted to sleep in each other’s cum.

Quentin. Q furrowed his brow for a moment as he contemplated the question and then chuckled softly. “Ughh, probably not. But we’d make it work” he grinned. Letting Roman pull him in even closer before letting out a sigh. “Damn.. yeah, we probably should” he agreed. “How about we go sleep in my bed and I’ll take care of this for you tomorrow? We can even light a joint since it’s the furthest from Desi’s room.” Moving seemed like such a task right now. But at least that would be less work then remaking an entire bed.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman smirked when his boyfriend made the suggestion of sleeping in another bedroom tonight, something he didn’t have it in him to fight, especially with the promise of a smoke. “You always have the best damn ideas, Q-tip!!” The actor leaned in to pop a kiss on Quentin’s forehead, and then made the move to roll out of bed and onto his feet. “Should I at least put on some underwear?” Ro asked while backing towards his closet with a raised brow. “Maybe I nice little pair of panties?”

Quentin. Quentin smiled proudly at his boyfriends compliment and nodded his head. “I try” he chuckled softly. “I’m mostly just lazy, and still baskin in the afterglow. But yes, you most definitely should wear a nice little pair of panties. I wanna take them off you with my teeth” he grinned.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ “Such a naughty boy.” Roman smirked over his shoulder, staring down his boyfriend like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, because to be honest, he was. How could someone look THAT amazing, even after rough sex? “Alright, go meet me in your bedroom. I’m gonna throw the sheets in the wash at least and get a little more comfortable for you. How’s that?” The actor gave Q a wink and then shook his tight little ass.

Quentin. He couldn’t help but to smirk at his boyfriend. He told him he’d take care of the mess the next day, but Roman couldn’t just let it sit there. That’s just who he was and Q absolutely loved him. “Okay baby” he mused with a slight raise of his brow. “I’ll get a little more comfortable for you too.” He slapped his boyfriend playfully on his ass before wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. Kissing the side of his neck in a bit of a ticklish manor before pulling away. “I love you. Don’t make me wait too long” he winked.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman stood near the doorway as he listened for Q’s steps to get quieter, and then ultimately disappear. He was so happy...genuinely, for the first time in his life, and maybe it was stupid that he needed a moment to let that sink in, but he did, and then it was on to stripping the bed. A pair of red heels, lacy panties, and lipstick to match, Roman made a meal of slinking to his boyfriend’s bedroom before standing in the doorway, cocking a slight pose as he looked over the musician.

Quentin. The entire walk back to his bedroom, he couldn’t seem to wipe the idiotic smile from his face. He was so happy, literally, and mentally. It was almost surreal to think that this was actually happening to him. He entered his room and pressed his back to the door for just a moment before changing into a pair of form fitting briefs. His hair all a mess and hanging over his face as he laid back onto his bed. It wasn’t until he heard Roman open the door that he propped himself up onto his elbows. Just taking in the vision of the most beautiful man he had ever seen as his lips parted with a sigh. “Come here, gorgeous” his heavy French accent fully giving away how turned on he was by the sight. “Come sit in my lap.”

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ Roman was trying to keep up the facade of a sultry face, a sexy lion (lioness?) ready to pounce on his boyfriend as if they hadn’t just went too many rounds in one night for any normal person. But seeing him there, sitting on the bed waiting for Ro, motioning for him to come to his lap, it was hard not to just completely crumble and become a subby mess. The actor pushed himself off the doorway before turning to close, and lock it, both dimples deep in his cheeks as he smiled at the idea of being locked in here together all night. “You gonna roll me a joint first?”

#chats:roman #chats:discord #ft.aaron #ft.quoman #tw::nsfw #tw:smut #tw:bdsm #tw: edging #tw:hardcore #{{𝓠𝚄𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙽;; let's just fall in love for the hell of it}}

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jejciu · 3 years

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i wish u branched out more in ur art ... :'( its so sweet and soft and still can be so rich and dark theres so much potential ughh u never miss ........and gawd i know its never gonna happen but! whatever midground is id love to see snippets of the story expressed in drawings and such ah! anyhow have a great day or night, ur drawings and Especially watercolors never cease to be a source of inspiration and ily pls remember that im always here refrshing ur blog in excitment :3

idk what is this ask im drunk and sappy and felt a need to write it

ugh yeah sadly im aware my art isn't really diverse.... that's mostly bc I really really suck at most stuff outside basic bust portraits. but also it hurts when some people just assume I share everything i draw, that I never look up references or tutorials and never even try to experiment or go for something more ambitious.... the truth is, i practice a lot, I just really hate how most of those drawings turn out (God, just yesterday I was drawing for the entire afternoon, i wasted so much paper and still have nothing to post......). when I go for full body drawings, my artstyle seems to have gone m.i.a. and it just looks as if I traced another drawing, and when drawing dynamic poses everything still feels either terribly stiff or unrealistically bended in uncomfortable ways, it really sucks. I wish i could draw scenes from midground! maybe short comics, even! i really do. I wish I could give more to people who happen to think my artstyle is pleasant or are somewhat interested in my ocs. its all really disappointing, even tho I know I don't really owe anyone artistic growth, that even if i literally never did anything besides front-facing mercies, I wouldn't have to change for anyone, as long as it would bring me joy. But I do wanna evolve and get better as an artist..... and god, I feel like the more I try, the more inferior I feel to all the real artists who post a detailed realistic and fully rendered portrait with a caption of "Just a simple warmup sketch" and like, get 15k notes and their commissions cost like 200 dollars. like I'm so far fucking away from that it's unreal.

Anyway thanks for the kind words, I'm happy my drawings bring u joy and since I've done a lot of illustrations to midground in the past (back when I thought I'd draw one illustration per chapter and put it in the pdf of the story lmao... Or drawing covers for each book and all that) maybe I could try to redraw some of them as practice.... I don't know. But still, thank u, it's really sweet of u to say all that, I really appreciate it! Messages like that make me feel like its all worth the work, if I can inspire even one person. Thanks again, I hope alcohol went easy on u and u didn't have to wake up hangover this morning.

#maurycy talks #Long post #I guess idk

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voidwaren · 4 years

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okay so for today’s WIP Wednesday, we’re harking back to the ST fic with a slightly Harringrove taste that I still tap away at sometimes. it’s got a third chapter in the process of being written, but it’s loooooong and I’m taking my sweet time with it.

(that seems to be a trend because it’s not the only long 3rd chapter I’m taking slow...)

It doesn’t take an entire summer for Steve to speak to Billy again. It doesn’t take monsters and mayhem and nearly losing their lives for Billy and Steve to convene and converse, but the reason behind that has nothing to do with the two short nights they’d spent learning that the other wasn’t quite as bad as they had always wanted to believe.

No—it doesn’t take an entire summer for Billy to talk to Steve again like he knows him, and not just because he’s a stranger handling a service Billy doesn’t want to go without. It takes a month and a half at most, because that’s how long it takes the hospital to finally release Billy and allow him to stay at home with periodic visits back and a shitload of physical recovery therapy. And the reason isn’t because they’re friends—in Steve’s humble opinion, they’ll never be friends—it’s because Steve works at the local movie rental place, and, apparently, no one had bothered to tell Billy that.

The next time Steve sees Billy again, it’s from behind the counter, and he’s only alerted a handful of moments before it happens by Robin turning her head sharply and saying, “Oh, shit. Heart-attack alert, T-minus ten.”

“Ten?” Steve repeated, looking at her in confusion. “Ten what?”

But Steve never found out, because before Robin could answer him, the front door to the store chimed open, and in walked Billy Hargove with Max tailing behind him. Max at least had the audacity to look sheepish, trussed up in her winter clothes with snow peppering her violent hair. It was a cold, bitter day in January, closer to February than Steve really liked to think about when his life was passing him by so fast he barely had time to blink, never mind breathe. And, with how much therapy he knew Billy was going through, the fact Billy was showing up at the movie rental store this early in the year was a shock in itself. In fact, Steve wasn’t even totally sure it was legal.

The surprise on Billy’s face, quick as it was, was genuine, before it was replaced with that suave grin that didn’t hold quite the same power it had before the monster. “Well, slap my ass and call me Sally, it’s King Harrington. The fuck are you doing working here?” His eyes roamed over to Robin before Steve could offer a reply and he continued, his voice dropping into his generic version of sleaze, “And, look at that, the tall glass is still carrying your ass?”

Robin, being Robin, rolled her eyes and shoved away from the counter. “Not on your life, Turbo Dingus,” she offered sweetly, then grabbed an armful of movies that needed to be reshelved and disappeared behind the racks. Billy watched her go, then turned back to Steve with both his eyebrows raised. From behind him, Max quickly scurried off in the same direction Robin had absconded in, and Billy either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he made no indication of recognition of her departure.

“Feisty, I like it. Knew you could do better than that prissy princess Wheeler,” Billy said idly.

“Nope, not like that,” Steve replied like a knee-jerk reflex. Billy’s favorite eyebrow shot up, but Steve ignored it. “And, to answer your earlier question, I work here because my old workplace did me the service of not existing anymore. Not like there’s a whole lot of choice left in Hawkins.”

Steve almost felt bad when Billy’s eyes twitched shut in a barely shuttered wince at the mention of the mall, but, to be fair, Billy had literally asked, and he knew damn well where Steve had worked before this. So Steve didn’t feel bad. He did, however, let Billy recover from the action before he asked, “How the hell did you even get over here? Are they letting you drive already?”

Something about Billy’s mask had slipped with the mention of the mall, and he wouldn’t meet Steve’s eye when he gestured back to where Max had disappeared to and said, “Maxine’s learning to drive. Told her to take me to the rental store so I could stop losing my goddamn mind sitting around all day.”

Steve frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to start that shit in empty parking lots and abandoned drive-ins?”

At that, Billy gave him a sharp grin. “She’s driven before.”

And Steve couldn’t help it, it was his turn to wince. Not a small wince, either. It was nearly a full-bodied thing as the memory of that night flashed in the cavern of his mind; memories of the sheer, biting pain his face had become after what Billy had rendered it to, of the fear that the tunnels had created, the stupid decision to traverse them that came right after Max had gotten them as far as she could with what little driving skill she had. The blank spots in his memory that he’d never fully regained, from a head injury he later learned he definitely shouldn’t have slept with, never mind beat up monsters with.

It was a wince that nearly hurt, and it was definitely one he had no way to recover from.

He didn’t miss the way Billy looked at him when he opened his eyes again, scrambling for something to cover up the misstep in his facade. It looked—wrong, the expression Billy’s features were contorted into. Like Steve had reacted in a way completely different from what he’d intended. Like he hadn’t known Steve had been at the mercy of Max’s amateur driving skills that night Billy had very nearly killed Steve over an incorrect—but entirely more sane than the truth—assumption. Billy looked startled, and maybe, even, a little guilty.

Strangely enough, that made Steve feel even worse.

Lapsed into a sudden silence, neither had the chance to recover from what they’d rendered each other to before Max and Robin were sliding back onto the scene, Max with an armful of movie choices and Robin with a nudge to Steve’s shoulder that effectively snaps him out of whatever Billy had done to him.

And, just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. Billy slid back into the person he’d walked through that door as and Steve built back up the wall he needed to get on with his life and not dwell on the person Hawkins was trying to make him become.

#WIP Wednesday #work in progress wednesday #stranger things #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #harringrove

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rebelheartsmustbefree · 4 years

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Cats in the Cradle...

(Cats in the Cradle)

Charlie-

*In the grand scheme of things, I’ve been alive two years. Thanks to Isaac’s grace that saved me while in my mother’s womb, I aged into a healthy and very curious twenty year old. It was at that time where I asked Isaac to allow me to leave the nest so to speak and work on finding myself. Reluctantly he did and gave a quite disgruntled blessing I left with nothing but the shirt on my back. Visualizing where I wanted to go, I vanished right before Isaac’s eyes. For the next year and a half I fully embraced the world, taking on any adventure that came my way. Discovering life, the beauty of this planet and the excitement that comes along with falling in love. Her name was Iris. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate, her eyes as green as the plains of rolling hills in Ireland. Where I met her. It was this little hole in the wall pub, the Lucky Irishman, corny in its title but the charm, oh the charm you could not help but love. She was there with a group of her friends, our eyes met as she laughed about something her one friend had said. She had one dimple one her left side, deepening as she offered me a smile and a raise of her glass. Trouble. I could see it coming a mile away and yet I went diving head first into it.

Eighteen months and not once did someone catch my eye the way Iris did. Sure I found myself attracted to a girl here and there, but something about the way she smiled at me made my pulse and entire body take notice. From that first night she had me captivated. She and I waited out her friends until one by one they left and she and I could finally talk. There was this unspoken conversation that had already happened between the two of us, like we had known each other for years and her taking me home was the most natural thing in the world. It was my first time. She made it easy on me, unzipping and pulling me out from them so she could straddle me, taking exactly what she wanted.

For the next few months that’s pretty much all we did. Morning, afternoon, evening and even in the middle of the night. We couldn’t get enough of one another. My Angel metabolism was addictive to her, loving how I could just keep giving her what she hungered for, what we both desired. It never even dawned on me that my attraction to her was preordained. It was all a set up and I never saw it coming. The whole time I’m worried about fucking her too hard, too much, here she knew exactly what she was doing. This was definitely one of those situations where Isaac would be saying I told you so. I was severely under educated in all things that would be a danger to me. From what I would tell, everytime she and I would be intimate, she was siphoning my grace. I was almost tapped out by the time I realized it. So basically I was fucked. Literally until I was weak.

I could hear her talking to whomever she was in cahoots with, talking about how I was ripe for the taking. As I lie here in this bed, trying to send any kind of sign to Isaac, the rage consumed me. The last thing I remember is wishing I had enough strength to kill her and the burning that began at the base of my spine. My last thought before blacking out was how it feels like the flesh of my back was being torn wide open.*

*Charlie was limp in my father’s arms as I swung open the door, blood covering the both of them. Michael with that judgy look on his face. Something I am fully used to seeing from the man who created me. I’ve done nothing but disappoint him from the day I was born. This I’m sure will only add to that list of fuck ups. I took Charlie from his arms, it was then I realized that his wings were half in, half out of his back. It was like they started sprouting but then stopped. I was about to ask what the hell happened when the answer was felt throughout my body. There was no life at all left in his body. No human spark, no angelic sign of life either. I drop to my knees and try to help, shoving my palm down against his chest with enough force to jolt his body. But still nothing. Michael is yelling at me to stop, grabbing at my shoulders to pull me away. This only angered me and caused me to shove him hard enough to send him back against the door. Charlie’s blue eyes were pale, the life was absolutely gone from his body. My chest heaves in a sob as I use my palm to sweep down over his eyes to close his lids. My father sat silent, which was probably for the best. I didn’t know what happened to Charlie but whatever it was was strong enough to completely take away all his grace, rendering him down to a mere mortal. Then to top it off, the trauma triggering his wings to begin growing, the transformation killing him. The loss of blood was too much for his heart to take.

I fell back on my ass, covering my face with bloody hands. The blood of probably the only son I’ll ever have, the only child. His existence was a fluke. I had one job and it was to protect him when his real father abandoned him. I failed.*

“Just like I failed you, Isaac.”

*He was standing beside me now, placing a hand on my shoulder. Charlie was gone and it was all my fault. I never should have let him go. There were too many enemies he had to look out for and had no clue what to look for in them.*

“I won’t let this define you, son.”

*With that, he gathers Charlie in his arms and is gone before I had a chance to even ask what he meant.*

Charlie-

*A set of crystal blue eyes was the first thing I saw when my eyes opened back up. There was no more pain. Just white surrounding me and warmth. The man helps me up and I feel the weight at my back, peering back over my shoulder I see a full set of wings expanding out behind me. The fuck?*

“Watch your language, Son. You are in Heaven. That kind of behavior I would expect out of Isaac. The Heathen.” *The blue eyes look over my wings, seeming to inspect every inch of them, nodding and making notes to himself by softly talking as he looks.*

“Congratulations, Charlie. You may just be useful after all.”

#TBC

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being-worthy · 4 years

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The Last of Us Part II – Adding my two cents to the game

Just so we’re clear, let’s establish a few things first:

MAJOR TLOU II SPOILERS AHEAD!!

I also spoiled myself ahead because I needed to know what would happen to Joel and Ellie… and the ending as well.

I’ve played the first one. I liked how it ended and totally support the ending!

I haven’t played the 2nd part but I’m watching the playthrough on YouTube in small doses. My heart can’t take much of it at once lol (and being poor and paying of debt for a loved one is no fun because I don’t have much money to spend on myself).

Right now, I’m at the part where Joel goes with Ellie to the museum for her birthday – it’s so cute and fatherly and my heart can’t take how bittersweet this is …

The 2nd part was rushed and has some bugs that could’ve been avoided, whether you like it or not. That’s a fact and we’re here for the facts not the truth (if you want the truth join a philosophy course).

The parts with Abby are too long, more than what they should’ve been and her vengeance is 💩.

English is not being my first language but I do my best (that’s all I can do).

I’m listening to Bryan Adams and Richard Max while writing this because I’m still not over Joel…

You may voice your opinion but remember this is my space! Be respectful at all times and absolute no hate here!

The first part ended with Joel bringing an unconscious Ellie to the hospital where the last Fireflies are, she almost drowned and he had to perform CPR on her. He’s rendered unconscious too and wakes up on a hospital bed with Marlene and Ethan (the guy who hit Joel in the head with the butt of his rifle) in the room.

That’s when he starts asking where Ellie is and Marlene informs him that she’s not his problem anymore and being prepped for surgery. Here, we need to note the following things: Marlene had sworn to Ellie’s mother to protect and to keep her from harm’s way but TAKES the decision to practically sentence her to death and yeah, she gives a speech that it’s not easy for her either yada yada yada but it’s all bs. The reason why is because:

a) making a decision refers more to the process and is something that takes time, while taking a decision is the act of deciding something that happens in an instant. Ultimately, Marlene decides for HER!! What about ‘my body, my decision’? Or in this case ‘her body, her decision’? It doesn’t matter if it’s related to an abortion or having your skull opened, the same principle should be applied!

She even says to Joel ‘because this isn’t about me. Or even her. There is no other choice here’. – Firstly, there’s always another choice! Secondly, Joel replies to her saying ‘yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit’ and he’s right, it’s total and utter bullshit. Even later on, when he’s carrying Ellie into the parking lot (I believe it was a parking lot), he tells her ‘that ain’t for you to decide’. Again, he’s right. It isn’t Marlene’s decision nor his but Ellie is still unconscious, so what do you want to do? Let them butcher her open? He crossed with her through half the country and ended up caring profoundly for her – she became like a daughter to him. He doesn’t have an on and off switch to turn off his feelings towards Ellie. Moreover, do tell me, if you’d like a doctor or someone else TAKE such a decision for you, instead of waiting for you to wake up and then tell you about the procedure and what this will entail. I get freaking furious whenever someone takes a decision for me or without asking me first.

b) Neither she nor the doctor wait for Ellie to regain consciousness and since she’s unconscious, they see it as the perfect importunity to just go ahead and rummage in her brain to see if there’s something that could help them developing a vaccine or a cure.

c) That’s another thing. They had zero guarantees, not even a 0.1 percentage of probability that they’d find something – nothing, nada, zilch. Just a hunch and maybe in an apocalyptic world for some people this might be enough but then why not wait until she wakes up and tell her ‘we don’t know for sure if your immunity will help us finding a cure or a vaccine. So that’s why we need to open your skull and see what makes you immune which ultimately, will kill you’ (in some nicer words though lol). Because they know she might not fully agree with it and they give a sh*t about what she thinks/wants and have that narrow military/cult mindset of ‘a sacrifice for the greater good’ and/or wouldn’t care either way because she’s a kid. I’m no fan of sacrificing one or a dozen people to save billions. If we can’t save them all or at least try our damn hardest, then we’re doing something terribly wrong! Also, she’s a freaking kid!! She hasn’t seen much and has her whole life ahead, doesn’t matter if it’s in the apocalypse. The thought that they’re willing to sacrifice her, a kid, without batting an eye shows me that all Fireflies are terrorists.

d) Now to the doctor (the one with the scalpel) – according to the internet this guy was Abby’s father and his murder was why she tortured and slaughtered Joel. First things first, every doctor has to take on a Hippocratic oath. There are many different variations but they all come from an old one that states the following:

… I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly, I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness, I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favour of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

… If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honoured with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.

The doctor doesn’t keep her from harm or injustice, he isn’t even there for her well-being, only to see how her brain ticks. So, that immense violation of his oath doesn’t make him a doctor anymore but a BUTCHER and don’t come to me with ‘but it’s the apocalypse or it’s for the greater good blah blah blah’, then how better are we compared to rapists and people who murder out of fun? If we throw our principles out of the window just because it’s the apocalypse and/or it’s for the greater good, then with all due respect we all should just go ahead and jump from a building and burn in hell.

e) I got to the part where Joel and Ellie went to the museum for her birthday and at the end there’s a graffiti that says ‘liars’ with the fireflies’ symbol above. Even at the end, their own members saw that they Fireflies were only a bunch full of hot air and nothing else. They ended up being terrorists and forgot what they once stood and fought for.

So, taking all this into consideration - who wouldn’t have saved her? And yes, Joel saves her out of selfishness, so what? True, that he didn’t tell her the truth either, but can you resent him for this? He’d have to tell her that Marlene betrayed her, betrayed her trust and her mother’s trust in her and was willing to let her die and let her body being violated (rape is not the only way to violate someone’s body – FYI). This would have impacted Ellie’s state of mind too. She’d have ended up resenting Marlene and the Fireflies or worse. She had gone through so much already and didn’t need more on her plate. So, he spared her that betrayal and resentment.

Now let’s talk a bit more about Joel. Joel is no saint or hero but no villain either. He’s just a man who was willing to doom the whole already-damned world to protect the girl he adopted. He does what he needs in order to survive but within some reason and hasn’t lost his humanity (it’s just deeply hidden in him), he’s a person trying to survive. He tortures people - yes, but only to get information and makes sure to end them quickly afterwards. I agree that one of the main things you’ve to do during such times, is to adapt or you’ll die or worse. In the 1st part he’s rough, tough, strong, stubborn, resilient, experienced in the world he lives in and wary of strangers (just remember that scene on the highway with the stranger pretending to be hurt and Joel knew from the moment he saw him that it was a trap), someone you don’t want to mess with, etc. On the other hand, there’s this other side of him where he teaches Ellie to swim, tries to joke with her, to play the guitar, takes her to beautiful places, he takes her to a museum with dinosaurs and stuff from space, that proves he’s capable for carrying deeply for someone, in this case Ellie, and don’t get me started on the gift he gives her when they’re in the space capsule (!!), and so on. Ellie and Joel have this great dynamic. Then in the 2nd part, they made him to be so trustworthy toward a young unknown girl, tells her even their REAL names, like he literally says ‘my name’s Joel and that’s my brother Tommy. We live further down’. Dude, why don’t you just go walking around with a banner around your neck stating who you are to the whole freaking world. At some point he even said the name of their home (Jackson)!’ - WHAT THE HOLY F*CK?! He even offered her to go with them and take her to their home and give her supplies. Then, even BLINDLY and WITHOUT ANY WARINESS follows her to a place with an unknown sized group, where he and Tommy don’t know anyone - HOLY FREAKING HELL?! It’s not like it could be a trap, I mean it’s completely normal that there are many survivors camping up in the mountains in the middle of a snow blizzard, it’s the perfect season for doing that ¬¬. We’re living in times were everyone is kind to each other… I just don’t get it. This behaviour change is too radical and old habits die hard, especially ones acquired and used for decades!! That’s a big flaw from Naughty Dog regarding Joel. They portrayed him as someone stupid (sorry Joel but it’s true), sloppy, too soft, etc. He’s older and fatherlier with Ellie all fine and good, but he’d still be very cautious toward outsiders, particularly when they outnumber him!! It’s true that at some point we’ll have to be more trustworthy toward others in order to try and reestablish society or something close to it but you’d still be wary and wouldn’t take them right to your home first thing!! I had also into consideration that they were being chased by a horde of runners and clickers and their options where limited but still!

In some games the death of an important and primary character is sometimes essential. TLOU II is one of them because this was necessary for Ellie to grown and learn more about herself, the world she lives in, among others but Joel deserved way better than what he got! I feel for Tommy too, he didn’t deserve to split up with Maria or lose an eye but I believe the reason as to why he became obsessed with avenging Joel was because he already thinks he failed him in the past already, either when Sarah died, or when he joined the Fireflies and Joel wasn’t happy about it, or when they blindly trusted Abby and her friends.

Before I start with Abby, we need to establish something else first: revenge is about retaliation; justice is about restoring balance. The motive of revenge has mostly to do with expressing rage, hatred, or spite. It’s a protest or payback, and its foremost intent is to harm. And because it’s so impassioned, it’s typically disproportionate to the original injury—meaning that it usually can’t be viewed as just. The punishment may fit the crime, but it’s often an exaggerated response to another’s perceived offense. Nevertheless, I do believe that justice comes from vengeance but that type of justice only breeds more vengeance, and this is what Abby essentially does, avenge her father (even though I believe he lost his way and became unscrupulous) and ends up being capable to live with herself with little to no trouble after what she did to Joel, after repeatedly hitting him over and over and over again with a golf club, and forcing Ellie to watch the last bit. Abby and a bunch of others, who were also aware of her secretive plans, travel thousands of miles just to find Joel and brutalise him and massacre him. That scene was really brutal. But at some point both Abby and Ellie have to realise that vengeance is not the answer and if everyone keeps coming back seeking vengeance, then they’ll move around in a vicious circle until someone decides to forgive because killing like this not only hurts themselves, but also those they love and love them.

I don’t see the WLF as a whole as someone who deserves sympathy. They’re quite similar to the Fireflies who maybe at some point had noble goals (or almost) but ended up strayed from their path. They loot and kill everyone they see, no questions asked (much like the police these days in our world), even if they’re just passing by and aren’t affiliated to any group and just want to survive.

The ending of TLOU II couldn’t have been better. Ellie was happy with Dina and the baby but deep down she knew she didn’t close the chapter with Joel’s murder. Abby, and knew that at some point, she’d have to revisit that part to close it entirely. Her leaving with Tommy was the right decision, even if Dina wouldn’t/couldn’t fully understand why and I feel sad for Maria too but I strongly believe that she’ll return - whether or not Dina will wait for her is another story.

This is all I’ve to add. I’ve been sitting her for about 5+ hours writing this because I wanted to put my perspective of this masterpiece out there and show people that the game is still great.

Let me know your thoughts!!

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #tlou2 spoilers #tlou joel #tlou ellie #the last of us 2 spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #tlou abby

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