#going to spiral into no-good headspace again tonight i can feel it

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Other theories I have about the conclusion to the Meursault arc, in no particular order and in varying degrees of conviction and likelihood:

Dazai believes he is not going to make it out of the prison and in fact thinks he is going to die. He says that he will make sure Sigma gets out but doesn't mention himself. Says his goal isn't to escape but to kill Dostoevsky. He's also being weirdly open about his emotions. Mind you, I think it would be odd if he were to actually die in this arc given that it doesn't make a lot of sense to me character-wise but. Idk.

Dostoevsky is not going to die this arc. Look, we still know nothing about him! I feel he's a much bigger threat than Fukuchi and that we're just barely scratching the surface with him. We know nothing about his ability, nothing about the V connection, nothing about what he's been setting up for apparently longer than most of the younger cast have been active. It can't end like this for him. In fact, he's the only one I'm adamant won't be killed in this arc.

Gogol is the true wildcard and may end up as a spanner in the works - he says he wants Dostoevsky dead but when Dazai or Chuuya or both gain the upper hand, he sways events to give Fyodor an advantage while brushing it off with "it's more interesting and entertaining like this". The real reason is that he doesn't actually want him dead at all. At the same time, I wonder if he might find Sigma and try to work with him to get the info he wanted. I seem to recall he wanted information on what Fyodor's ability was. Gogol is on no one's side. Let him be chaotic.

Sigma will manage to extract the information from Fyodor - as he cannot kill ability users with his own ability. Based on that one theory that Crime and Punishment only works on non-ability users, hence why Fyodor tricked Ace into killing himself and shot Catgirl with a gun. I wonder if Sigma, spurred on by a new burst of confidence, will take some initiative, figure it out (he's quite intelligent, actually, so I wouldn't put it past him), and get the information he needs.

Chuuya deflected the bullet shot at Catgirl so that it drew blood but did not kill her. Or Catgirl froze time long enough to make a plan with Chuuya. (*sob* i just don't want her to be dead)

They are able to use the info Sigma got to send it back to the Agency, thus wrapping up the DoA arc. However, Dostoevsky has gotten away, which means the four of them - Dazai, Sigma, Chuuya and Catgirl - need to go on a chaotic manhunt/road trip to find him. Chuuya is driving. He is livid at Dazai and is giving him the silent treatment while turning on the radio in the car with music he knows will annoy him. Dazai is shoved in the backseat between Sigma and Catgirl, pouting. Catgirl is revealed to be a kleptomaniac who keeps stealing stuff from them and all the places they stop at. She's not even supposed to be there she just enjoys the drama and the vibes. And poor Sigma does not want this at all but he has some moments where he and Chuuya get to talk and that's somewhat civil. Maybe they end up recruiting Adam for assistance. This makes no sense. :)

Gogol saves Dostoevsky because he doesn't really want him dead. This sends him into a crisis where he becomes more and more volatile and unpredictable. Terrible road-trip #2 electric boogaloo. Gogol keeps trying to kill him and becomes erratic, poisoning his drink, brandishing a knife, holding him at gunpoint. He tries to strangle him but cannot follow through. Fyodor does not care because for as long as Gogol's attachment exists, Fyodor is in control. Gogol knows that for as long as his attachment exists, he can never be free. I am aware this sounds like a screwed up fanfic premise. I want angst. :)

Dostoevsky put something in place for Chuuya on the off-chance that he managed to escape the brainwashing. There's no real evidence for this other than I think it makes some sense that Fyodor would have an emergency measure in place. Perhaps access to misleading information that might make him question things? Idk. Fyodor plays the long game. I want some real effects on the cast.

Got anything to add? :D

#these are terrible but whatever #who cares i have no brain brain is empty #going to spiral into no-good headspace again tonight i can feel it #i hate that i can feel it coming but can't stop it #sorry tmi #anyways. #bsd #this is not a meta lol this is wish fulfillment #bsd spoilers #bsd dazai #bsd fyodor #bsd chuuya #bsd sigma #bsd catgirl #fyolai #i guess #storyrambles

[starryhyuck]

pretty girl. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaemin x reader

words: 4.3k+

summary: you hate that jaemin follows you around every full moon. you’re determined to know the reason why, but you end up getting more than you asked for.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: large amounts of cum, manhandling, breeding, knotting, overstimulation, fingering, hair pulling, rough sex, oral sex

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”

You blink twice at Jaemin, who is hovering protectively over your form. As your best friend, Jaemin’s always been cautious of you because of his alpha instincts. This oddly includes finding him in your apartment on random days, cooking you dinner because you ‘can’t make it yourself,’ walking you around campus and glaring at anyone who glances your way, and finally, following you to places he should never be at anyways. Tonight falls under the last category, where you were itching to have a nice time with some of your group partners in your Economics class. You all collectively agreed that grabbing drinks at the nearby bar on campus was a good idea. Everything was going perfectly until Jaemin came storming into the bar, almost pushing one of your friends from his spot next to you.

You awkwardly clear your throat, laughing breathily as you stand, trying to move Jaemin away from the table. You can feel the heavy stares of your classmates on your back, and you try your best to ignore it. Once you’re out of earshot, you mumble lowly to him.

“Uh, Jaem, why are you here?”

He frowns at you. The expression on his face is clearly one of disappointment. “It’s a full moon. You shouldn’t be out here, especially if there are other alphas lurking around.”

You tend to frequently forget that Jaemin gets extremely clingy when the full moon rises, and he often perceives most of the population as a threat to your life. In fact, you’re both very good friends with Jeno, another fellow alpha on campus. Jeno’s shown time after time that he has absolutely no interest in you, but when the full moon appears, Jaemin’s convinced that Jeno wants to kidnap you and keep you locked in his dorm forever.

You sigh. “Jaemin, I’m fine. I’m just hanging out with my friends. There are no alphas around, I promise.”

His frown grows deeper. “I passed two of them on the way here. They could have easily hurt you.”

“How about you have a drink with us?” You offer, knowing his worries aren’t subsiding anytime soon. “You can relax and make sure I’m safe.”

The tension in his shoulders loosen at your suggestion, and he hesitantly agrees. You order a beer for him and he reluctantly follows you back to the table. Your friends are eyeing him warily.

“Everyone, this is Jaemin,” you introduce awkwardly. “Is it okay if he joins us?”

Jeongyeon is the first to speak, despite everyone’s reluctance. “Sure, the more the merrier!”

You toss her a grateful smile and Jaemin slides in next to you, unaware of the looks he’s receiving. Luckily, Seulgi launches into a discussion about her day before anyone else can comment. It isn’t long before Chanwoo leans over to whisper in your ear, causing Jaemin to stiffen beside you.

“Is your friend okay? He looks like he hates all of us.”

You brush off Chanwoo’s question. “He’s fine, just tense. Rough time in the semester, you know?”

Chanwoo nods but doesn’t seem convinced by your answer. No one else approaches you about Jaemin for the rest of the time, and the boy next to you chooses to remain silent. You bid goodbye to the group at the end of the night with Jaemin giving subtle nods to each of them. He still hovers protectively over you on the walk back to the campus dorms.

“You really didn’t have to come out tonight,” you mumble to your best friend as he walks alongside you. “I was fine on my own.”

“You’re not fine on nights like these,” he responds, and you can hear the frustration in his tone. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

You huff and stop in your tracks, turning around to face him. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No one is going to hurt me! No one has ever tried to hurt me on a full moon, it’s just your imagination! It’s annoying how much you follow me around, Jaemin, seriously.”

He’s visibly hurt by your outburst and you instantly feel regret. You can almost feel him shutting you away, and it pulls at your chest. He motions to your dorm, which is only a few feet away from where you’re standing.

“Good night. I hope you sleep well.”

“Jaemin-“

You watch as your best friend scurries down the sidewalk, not sparing a single glance back at you.

—

You startle Jeno the next day, pounding on his door and ignoring the glares you’re receiving in his hallway. The boy sleepily opens the door up for you, hair sticking out in multiple directions. He mumbles something under his breath and you ignore him, pushing through and entering his room.

“Well, come on in,” he hisses sarcastically.

You have no time to humor him. “Are alphas usually super clingy and annoying?”

He pauses at the question, closing the door slowly. You raise an eyebrow at his hesitation.

“Um, is this about Jaemin?”

“Maybe,” you drawl, watching Jeno carefully. He definitely knows something he’s not telling you about. “And what if it was?”

“Then I would say you need to talk to Jaemin.”

You roll your eyes. “Jeno!”

“What?” He retorts, avoiding your eyes as much as possible. “It’s not my place to say.”

“I don’t care if it’s your place or not,” you say, frustrated by your lack of alpha knowledge. You’ve tried to learn more since Jaemin presented himself, but it was difficult since many alpha secrets were kept between alphas only. “I need to know what’s going on with him. He’s been following me around every full moon like he’s expecting me to get mugged or something!”

Jeno exhales loudly. “He hasn’t talked to you? About anything?”

You huff. “Jeno, if I needed answers, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

The more you talk, the more Jeno grows uncomfortable. It almost seems like it pains him to say anything about Jaemin without him present, and it’s getting on your nerves. Jaemin usually never keeps secrets from you and it must be pretty big if Jeno is barely holding himself together.

Jeno finally speaks after you watch him run circles in his head. “What do you know about mates? Alpha mates?”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. “Mates? I didn’t even know alphas had mates.”

“They’re chosen specifically by an alpha. Someone the alpha has a connection to, someone they would like to spend the rest of their life with.”

He’s still not making any sense to you. Does Jaemin have a mate? Is it someone you know?

Jeno can see the gears spinning and he scoffs. He whispers something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“You need to talk to Jaemin about this. I really can’t say any more.”

You spare Jeno the interrogation and leave his room, thoughts swirling in your head. He’s given you everything and nothing at once, and you don’t even know if Jaemin will offer anything better. You trek over to his dorm anyways, on a mission.

His eyes soften when he sees you behind the door. It tugs at your heartstrings and he motions for you to come inside. The awkward tension drowns the room and you sway on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says first. “I know I made you uncomfortable by being with your friends last night, and I should’ve stayed away. I just get very worried around the full moon because-“

“What are alpha mates?”

Jaemin chokes, not expecting your question. You watch as he gathers himself again, and this time, he can’t bear to look at you.

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Jeno.”

Jaemin curses lowly. You frown, your gaze never faltering. You can practically see him trying to come up with some type of excuse.

“Jaemin, I want the truth.”

He sighs. “Can you sit down? Please?”

You reluctantly follow his request, taking a seat on his bed. He paces around the room, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. You begin to grow antsy while watching him.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

His head snaps up to look at you, heart breaking at the dejected look on your face. He shakes his head and takes a seat next to you.

“I do, I want to tell you everything. I just want you to have a choice first,” he states, staring at you as if you hold all the answers.

You frown and shake your head. “What choice? You’re not making any sense.”

“I, uh, I unknowingly bonded myself to you. You became my mate, and I realized it too late. We spent too much time together and I should have taken a step back before it got too serious. I was just- I’m never in the correct headspace when I’m around you, and it causes me to impulsively make decisions. I can’t break the bond unless I wish to die a slow death, but if you want me to, I can try.”

You’re spiraling. Your brain is short circuiting, and you’re unsure of what to say in response. Your best friend has just confessed that he bonded himself to you for life, which probably runs deeper than marriage. If you reject him, he’ll die a painful death.

Wonderful.

Jaemin starts freaking out, standing back up and resuming his pacing. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left weeks ago, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. Listen, we can forget this ever happened. I’ll just- I’ll figure something out. Surely, I can break the bond-“

“Jaemin,” you say timidly. He stops in his tracks at the sound of your voice. “I think I’m okay with being your mate. I mean, I’d rather have it be you than anyone else. Not like you’re my second choice or anything! I just-“

He kneels down, his hands resting on the expanse of your thighs, causing you to jolt at the contact. His hands feel oddly warm, and it’s sending a plethora of dirty thoughts to your head.

“I don’t want you to do this because you feel bad,” he speaks softly. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to do it. It’s my fault, and I’ll pay the price.”

You protest. “No, I’m doing this because I want to-“

“It’s a big decision-“

“I know that, and I-“

“I hardly think you’ve thought through this carefully-“

“Don’t tell me what I haven’t done-“

“I’ll just move away. It’ll be easier for the both of us that way.”

“Jaemin,” you hiss, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Can you quit being so difficult? I’m telling you I want to be with you and your rejection is making me feel upset.”

His expression falls. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t want to cage you in, that’s all.”

“You aren’t caging me in,” you promise him. “Can you tell me what being a mate entails?”

He flushes deep red, and you grow anxious once again. He removes his hands from your thighs and you silently wish he kept them there. He stands again, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Um, well, technically- I mean, it’s just-“

“Jaemin,” you say sternly. “Stop dancing around the subject.”

He clears his throat. “Technically, we’re not fully mated yet. In order to complete the bonding process, we need to- um, well, we need to-“

“Jaemin!”

“We need to fuck!”

That definitely floors you. You blink at him, not believing what he said. You haven’t slept with anyone in months. You’re not going to lie — you’ve thought about Jaemin in that way a handful of times, mostly when it’s late at night and you’re left with an imaginative mind. You didn’t realize it could ever become a reality.

He starts rambling again. “Of course, I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can’t imagine me putting my dick anywhere near you is appealing at the moment, so we can probably just forget it and-“

You say his name again to bring him out of his thoughts. “Can we try?”

He sputters, more than the last time. “W-What?”

“I mean, it can’t hurt, right? I trust you.”

“U-Uh, um, uh, I-“ He short circuits in front of you, struggling to find coherent words.

You don’t give him time to second guess again, immediately falling to your knees and reaching for the band of his sweatpants.

“Woah, woah, wait, let me just-“

Your mouth waters when you pull his cock out from his briefs, the tip already red and leaking. You don’t know if it’s because he’s an alpha, but his cock is absurdly large and thick. You can barely wrap your hand around the base and the thought of taking him into your mouth is daunting, but you would regret it if you didn’t try. You take an experimental lick, watching the way Jaemin struggles above you.

“Slow down, we don’t have to do this now-“

You ignore him again, enveloping the tip in your mouth as he releases a long groan. Your eyes flutter shut, pushing him deeper and deeper into your throat. You run your tongue along the base of his cock, licking and swallowing him. He’s barely holding on to the last string of his control, and you can tell by the way his hands are clenched at his sides.

You decide to push him further, casually deepthroating him and locking your gaze with his. The sound of you choking on him snaps him awake, and it isn’t long before he’s gripping your hair and throwing you on his bed. You squeal at the force of his movements. He pushes you on your stomach, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass.

He hisses in your ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for your alpha, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be good, alpha,” you keen. “I’m good for you.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, watching as you arch your back. “You’ve been waiting a long time for me, haven’t you?”

“So long,” you practically sob. “Just want my alpha to make me feel good.”

You hear the rip of your skirt and he tears the fabric of your top, tossing both items across the room. He’s feral at this point and you have no intention of stopping him. It feels electrifying to have him this close to you, touching you in all the places you never thought before.

Even though he’s your best friend, it feels as if he’s been doing this with you for years. He doesn’t feel like a stranger as he grabs your waist, finger running up and down your clothed slit.

“Aw, pretty girl, look at how wet you are for me,” he muses, pulling your underwear down to fully see you. “So beautiful. Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “All for you, just for you.”

You see stars when he sinks his finger into you, moaning at his touch. You hear him murmur behind you.

“So so perfect, so pretty and wet. You’re so good for your alpha.”

You flourish under Jaemin’s praises, his eyes observing as you submit further to him. You wish you read more on the subject of alphas and their mates. The way Jaemin’s touching you is sending your mind into overdrive, and you’re not even sure what to do when you hear the slick of your cunt as he slides another finger into you. He’s cooing at you, chanting how you’re such a ‘good girl’ for him.

You shut your eyes as he builds a steady pace with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. You moan loudly, not registering the volume of your voice. He doesn’t seem to mind you being loud either.

“Such pretty noises,” he hums, digging his other hand into your side and picking up the pace inside of you. You cry and squirm away from him, but he holds you in place. “I imagined for so long what you would sound like. Full moons were the worst. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being able to see you like this, touch you like this. You drove me insane.”

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, getting closer and closer to snapping.

He hums again in response. “Almost there, sweet girl? You’re so pliant for me, so easy to fuck. But it’s all for me and only me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, only for you, alpha,” you whisper, fingers gripping the sheets as you near the edge.

“Pretty little pussy you have, I can’t wait to knot you. You’re going to take my knot so well, aren’t you? I chose you to take it, and to stuff your cunt full of my cum. I wonder how I could fit my cock into you, you seem too small to take it, pretty girl.”

“I-I can t-take it,” you struggle to get the words out, your brain turning a bit fuzzy. Once he brushes your sweet spot again, your body explodes and you sob loudly at the intensity of your orgasm. Jaemin praises you throughout it, eyes locked on your cunt gushing into his palm.

“So pretty, such a pretty girl. You came so much for me.”

As you float down from your high, you can hear the sound of Jaemin greedily licking his fingers. You nearly scream when you feel his tongue prod at your pussy.

“No, n-no, Jaem, please-“ you begin to beg, squeamish from the overstimulation, but it’s useless. He loves the taste of your cunt already, digging in like it’s his last meal.

Your body begins to ache and you slowly sink down on the bed, tired of arching your back. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, following you down as he slurps up your cunt. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as he sucks on your folds, and you can feel his smile when he plays with your clit.

“Alpha,” you whisper breathlessly. “Alpha, I can’t.”

He clicks his tongue. “I know you can. I chose you because you can. Take what I give you, pretty girl. I know you can be good for me.”

You lay there, boneless, as he dips his tongue into your entrance. You barely scream when your second orgasm rolls over you, the sound catching in your throat. He licks up the evidence and you try to wave your hand back to stop him. He gets the message, pulling back and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You taste so sweet, pretty girl. I’ve never tasted a cunt that good before. All for me, right?”

“Yes,” you answer. “All for you, alpha.”

You hear him shifting behind you, and you see him toss his clothes over his shoulder. He picks you up and adjusts you until you’re seated on his lap, hovering just above his cock. He takes note of your sleepy gaze and smiles, kissing down your neck.

“Tired, sweet girl? Don’t want to take my cock anymore?”

You blearily blink. “No, no, I want to take your cock, alpha. Please give it to me.”

He chuckles at your compliance, eyes zeroing in on your glistening pussy. “You’ve been so good for me. Want your reward now?”

“Yes, yes, alpha.”

He suddenly turns serious, brushing your hair away and cupping your cheeks.

“This means forever. I want you to understand that.”

It’s a little frightening — the thought of being bound to someone forever. However, you’re willing to do anything for Jaemin, and you know he loves you. You’re blissfully happy at the thought of forever.

You nod, smiling. “Want to be with you, Jaem.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Your smile quickly turns into a gasp as he pushes you down on his cock. You scramble in his hold, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He shushes you softly. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you, trust me.”

Head thrown back and lips parted, you feel utterly fucked as Jaemin impales you. You weren’t even aware your cunt could stretch this far for him, taking him in. The stretch doesn’t hurt like you think it will, it feels surprisingly satisfying. You feel whole like this, finally connecting him to you.

Once he bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes stray tears from your cheek.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Took my cock so well. I know you’ll take my knot like a champ too.”

You feel drunk on him despite the fact that his cock could split you in half. You take a few more seconds to yourself before you nod, giving him the okay to move.

He starts out gently, even though you can see him clenching his teeth trying to control himself. You decide to push him.

You lean in and whisper in his ear. “Fuck me good, alpha. Show me I’m yours, and yours only.”

He throws you back down onto the bed, growling at your submission. You cry when he drills into you, showing no mercy any longer. His cock is tearing you apart and you welcome it with open arms. His fingers dig roughly into your scalp, his other hand groping your breast.

“You like it when your alpha fucks you like this? You like it when I have control of you?” He practically growls at you, hips snapping into your thighs roughly. Your mouth hangs open, and if you were lucid, you would be embarrassed by the drool pooling at the side of your lips. He continues muttering obscenities at you, fueled by the feeling of your warm pussy wrapped around his cock. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think of anyone else. Every time you touch yourself, you’re going to think about me. Only me. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine, make sure you’re pretty and pregnant for me.”

His fingers move from your breast into your mouth, and you subconsciously suck on the digits.

He snickers. “Look at you. Such a pretty fuck toy for me, taking my cock so well. You were made to be fucked, sweet girl. Made to take my cock and my cock only.”

You’re definitely out of coherent thoughts at this point. Jaemin flips you again, arching your back and you whimper at the ache. He drives into you harder and faster from behind, his balls slapping against your cunt in the most unholy way.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” you groan. “My alpha. So good, my alpha, so good. So big.”

“Need you to cum, sweet girl. Want to feel it. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

“Alpha, alpha,” you whimper, the coil in your stomach building and building. You soar when it snaps, and you swear you see white clouding your vision. You cry and cry, tears freely falling down your face as you clench around Jaemin.

You think you pass out for a few seconds. When you regain your strength, he’s flipped you on your side, gripping your ankle as he throws your foot over his shoulder. You let him do whatever he wants at this point, enjoying the way he presses against your clit every time he pushes in.

You can only hear parts of what he’s saying, a ringing sound still echoing in your ears.

“So good- such a pretty cunt- want to fuck you forever- going to show you off- beautiful- fucking pretty pussy- such a good girl for me.”

“J-Jaem,” you say, but you know he can’t hear you anymore. You think you have another orgasm, but the pleasure is mixing together too fast. You blackout again, waking up moments later to find Jaemin still fucking you senseless.

You’re on your back again with Jaemin hovering over you, pressing kisses down your neck. He’s muttering praises still, hands digging into your sides.

“Want to feel you forever. So good for me, pretty girl. You ready to take my knot?”

You lazily comb your fingers through his hair, feeling exhausted. “Please, alpha, give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He groans, pressing harder into you. “Want me?”

“I want you, I want you,” you echo, the familiar sensation pulsing through your veins.

He’s drilling faster now, pumping furiously into you as he chases his high. You think you’re screaming, but you can’t be entirely sure. You feel bad for whoever lives on Jaemin’s floor.

When he cums, you swear he’s been holding it in for years. His cum splashes against your walls as he empties himself inside of you. You squeeze around him again, finishing another orgasm.

It’s a few minutes later when you think it’s finally over. You start to relax, but the feeling is short lived. You sob when the base of Jaemin’s cock begins to swell, growing bigger and bigger.

“N-No, no, no, no-“

He shushes you. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You take my knot so well, I have so much cum for you.”

You swear you’ve lost your mind when Jaemin does, in fact, give you even more of his cum. It starts to leak out of your cunt because of the sheer amount, and he urges you through it with soft kisses. When he’s finally done, you feel like you’ve been fucked into the next century.

The only thing you can manage to say is, “You can’t fuck me again for three months, at least.”

He laughs at you and you try to throw him a serious look. He kisses your cheek.

“Oh, silly girl. What did I tell you before? I chose you because you’re made for me. You honestly don’t think I’m going to stop fucking you now, do you?”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you shriek when he thrusts into you, his cock still hard.

“Such a pretty girl.”

#nct smut #jaemin #jaemin smut

[chichirichick]

SoMa Day 5: Domestic

This one's coming in a little later than I normally post but I still made it! Please enjoy my @soulxmakaweek entry for Day 5! Laundry has never ended so sweetly. Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

"Can you please stop tapping?"

Soul stopped the steady rhythm of both his feet and his fingers. "I'm bored," he groaned back as he slid against the back of the chair. In a daring move, his forehead thunked exhaustedly to her shoulder.

"Here." Maka rummaged through her bag, taking out a second paperback and shoving it under his nose.

"No," he elongated the vowel in agony. "Reading sucks."

"Says you," she snapped back before tapping his cheek with the spine. "Why didn't you bring your headphones?"

'Cause I kinda wanted to listen to you… He let that thought drift by as he tilted his chin slightly. The closeness was a bit of bravery, but there was something about doing these homey things with her that always stirred the want. "Broke 'em."

"Another one?" Maka rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Soul, that's like the third this month. For a man who loves music…"

"Real music is better without headphones," he grumbled in return. He could see the goosebumps on her neck from his breath, and he paused, waiting for her to clear him away from his spot.

"Like this?" Maka wiggled a finger up at the busted boombox, one speaker settled askew on top of the line of dryers. It was spewing a piss-poor copycat of Kenny G.

"Oh, this is grade A." His smirk glowed, flashing those sharky teeth. "You don't like it?"

Maka snorted.

"C'mon." Soul nudged his cheek a little more firmly into her shoulder. "Dance with me."

"Here?" Maka glanced around the dilapidated laundromat incredulously.

There were two other late-night launderers, one with his face in his newspaper and the other scrolling through her phone in ennui. The rest of the scratched linoleum or half-broken chairs were empty of life.

"Save me here, Maks. I'm dyin' of boredom." He pulled out the big guns, that pleading stare that thankfully birthed a smidge of weakness in her. He latched on to it along with her hand, getting up from his seat to pull her with him. It was easy to slip her into position, just reliving that black room again.

Maka let him coax her into slow waltzing steps between the washer-dryer sets and the seats. Her smile blossomed almost immediately, but the giggle that followed took time, building as he twirled her until she couldn't hold it.

"What's funny?" The sweet sound broke Soul's concentration.

"It's weird," Maka paused to let another laugh flutter. "You get sort of happy when we're doing housework stuff."

"I feel like you're insinuating me being happy is weird…" Soul leveled a glare at her, promoting more giggles that pressed into his heart. "But yeah, sure, I like this stuff."

There was a tenuousness to their connection, a blip on the line from soul to soul as they revolved again. It was just long enough for Maka to nibble into her lip before asking simply, "Why?"

This was the spot for an obligatory shrug- the kind that killed conversation like a lightning strike. Except… that mood struck him again, the one that was starting to get undeniable every time he was near her. "Well, never did it back at home… had maids and stuff for that so when I got here it was kinda like I wanted to learn it in order to let go of all that Evans bullshit."

Maka was blinking up at him, absorbed with hearing another piece of his truth. It was always hard to tear them away from him and when he offered them, she always seemed entirely immersed, dying for the next word.

"'cept that stuff sorta sucks," he added with a throaty chuckle.

"But you like it," she corrected softly.

"Uh…" Soul let that rumble in his throat for a second. "Yeah, now. That didn't happen 'til you came along."

Her eyelashes fluttered wide, that deep green blooming in surprise.

"Sorta… I mean, alone, in the apartment, cooking or cleaning- it was just me. Just a chore." He couldn't stand the way she was staring so he broke the moment, forcing her into a twirl that urged a tender laugh from her but didn't ruin her concentration.

Her eyes snapped back to him mercilessly as soon as he had her back in his arms.

"When you moved in- us livin' together… guess I realized what I was really missin' about it in the first place."

Maka's eyebrows furrowed but she didn't speak, didn't offer him an out with interruption.

His fingers tensed in hers as his heart lost the tempo of their movement, a jagged beat reminding him that while it was unnaturally easy to love her, it was so hard for him to somehow piece together the idea of it into words. "Doin' it alone… just feels like somethin' you gotta get done. Doin' it together is just like everythin' else we do- life in harmony." It was no longer a smirk but a nervous smile as he searched her eyes. "'Cause when it's you and me it feels homey, like family."

While his grin faltered, Maka's blossomed. "That is the cheesiest thing you've ever said."

A withering laugh struggled from his throat. "Sorry."

Maka quickly shook her head as the glow on her face continued. "You're right though."

Soul could feel the color creeping up his neck to his ears.

"You are my family, Soul." The sweet lilt of her voice was saturated in such a contented joy that his heart was melting down to his shoes. "I like that you feel that way." The octave trembled just slightly, a little pink of her own dusting her cheeks.

"G-good." He swallowed the stutter as his fingers suddenly became entirely unsettled. The urge hit him to spin her again, but in the next breath, the idea of letting her out of his arms struck him as utter agony. While he sat on the precipice of entirely losing his mind, the dryer buzzed, forcing him a jittery step back.

"Looks like you're done," Maka chimed, letting her hands still drift over his arms in gentle reassurance that bled from her fingers to his soul.

Soul tried to push all his energy into the normalcy of opening the dryer, barely feeling the puff of hot air as it opened in his face because of his already burning blush. He managed to shove every sock and wayward piece of underwear into his laundry basket before shuffling it across the floor back to their chairs. His knees gave up, wobbling as he took a hard seat. She- she likes that I feel that way? Does that-?

Maka settled next to him in the seat. "Are you going back to the apartment?"

"No," he shot back immediately, vexed by the thought.

There was no annoyance on her end, just a soft hum of satisfaction. "Let's make cocoa tonight."

"Cocoa?" Soul snapped out of his headspace, finally losing focus on his spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah." Without hesitation, her fingers were wrapped in his. "Homey, right?"

"S-sure. Maka, I- uh-" Different sentence strings shouted in his head. Family- like, together?

"And a movie. Maybe two even though it's late."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Anythin' you want." Or, brother and sister?

"Anything?"

Soul was too deeply occupied with trying to rein in his mind to hear the playfulness in her voice. Or meister and weapon?

"I can sit however I want on the couch?"

"Yeah." Spit it out!

"And you won't complain when I use you as a pillow?"

"Whatever." Since you were so damn love-drunk that you spilled the other part but not the part that terrifies you!

"And if I ask you- you'll give me a goodnight kiss?"

"Listen, Maka-" He froze, hands already spread in a silent plea as he let her words filter into his head. "Wha-what did you just say?"

A bit of bashfulness caught up with her as her fingers kneaded into his. "A kiss, Soul. If I asked you to, would you?"

There was no foothold for his fear, not with that blush blaring on her cheeks and a tentative smile waited to boom with his answer. His lean was a little too quick, knocking noses with her at first until she tempered him with a soft hand to his cheek. The tempting touch only made it worse, his lips clumsily locking to hers as he tried to steal away every last ounce of the happiness in what she'd said.

"Hey, get a room!" The man had dropped his newspaper and was eyeing them with distaste.

Maka parted them with a twittering laugh, her hand coming over her face to finally give in to a second of the embarrassment.

Soul offered the man a sneer before letting out a quaking laugh of his own. "Maka, that was-"

"Nice," she murmured as she let her hand slip away to reveal a smile.

"Yeah," he sighed out desperately.

She squeezed his hand in hers again, "So, cocoa, a movie, and maybe a little more practice."

#soulxmakaweek #SoMaWeek2021 #Soul Eater #SoMa

[zwowow]

this might be very triggering so its fine if u dont do it, but kells self harming secretly and em finding out and kells thinks he’s gonna be mad but em is comforting instead

sorry for the ask, im the same anon that went thru a break up and it aint going well

tw: self harm 

I’m sorry my love, break ups are rough and it really sounds like ur goin thru it. sorry this took a while! but hopefully you’ve had time to heal a bit between sending this ask nd now. 

psa to all I’ve never self harmed, so i’m just hoping this captures the idk headspace? alright :/ 

He started when he was a teenager. That’s how long he’s been doing this shit. It’s fucking shameful that he hasn’t grown out of it in over a decade, but it’s also one of the only things that’s consistently soothed him. When weed isn’t enough to calm him, or shake him from a spiral of self-loathing, he always comes back to this. Not because it makes him feel better, but because it makes him feel something. 

He can focus on the pain and only the physical pain. His emotions, the real world shit he has to deal with, can fall to the side for a moment and he can revel in the hurt. The hurt that he has control over. 

That’s a part of it, too. Control. So much of the existential pain he feels is beyond what he himself can change. Everyone gets to have an opinion on him, and regardless if it’s good or bad, he has to know it and internalize it. He has no choice. Time moves on and he can’t control what his past self has done, but the regret eats him alive. His head spins when he thinks about all of the shit that’s wrong in his life that he no longer has the power to change. 

But the harm he does himself? Knowingly and methodically? It’s all controlled. He’s got it all under control. 

Or at least he did. Recently, he’s had the itch to hurt more and more frequently. There’s so much going on in his life that he’s no longer in control of even the one thing that makes him feel grounded. The old scars and fresh wounds are getting harder to hide. Even on his inked skin, raised bumps and sensitive bruises are easy to find when his boyfriend spends all of his time roaming his hands gently over his body. 

But Em can’t find out. Colson refuses to let him. He’d think Colson is pathetic (he is). He’d be disgusted by him (he should be). He’d hate him (but he couldn’t hate him more than Colson hates himself). 

He tries not to hurt himself around Em because of this, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Sometimes he needs it. 

Colson sneaks out of bed one night at Em’s place while his boyfriend is sleeping. On his way out, he grabs his small bag that has just a few of the items he uses to hurt himself. His fingers shake around the bag and his breath quickens in his chest. 

Ain’t it funny that the shame he feels from doing this just makes him want to do it more? 

When he makes it to a bathroom far enough away from Em’s room that he doubts he would make the effort to find him all the way down here, he lays the bag on the counter and opens it up. 

This hadn’t started with the razor blades and lighters he keeps in the bag. He’s worked himself here from pulling out his leg hair and scratching his own arms raw just to feel the sting. The older and more well known he got, the more out of control he felt, and from there he made the jump from nervous ticks to genuine self harm. 

He used to starve himself, too. He thinks back to only a couple of years ago and picks up the lighter. He could go days without eating, even while on tour. There were times where he’d pass out after shows from the hunger, but he’d write it off to others as exhaustion. That had been one of the most pleasing ways to hurt himself. The gentle build up to physical depletion to match what he felt emotionally was fulfilling in a way he couldn’t possibly explain to anyone. 

And that’s why he stopped. Em started to catch on. He started to ask questions no one had asked before. He was obsessed with feeding Colson and keeping him healthy. 

Colson started eating regularly because Em would’ve hated to know his not eating wasn’t just absent-minded forgetting. He would’ve been so disappointed to find out it was deliberate starvation. Colson didn’t want to disappoint Em. 

He still doesn’t. Colson puts the lighter on the counter and takes out one of his blades, too. Em would hate to see this. He wouldn’t understand. 

Inhaling shakily through his nose, Colson looks between his two options for tonight. He leaves the blade on the counter and picks up the lighter. Em is sure to notice if he has a fresh cut. A burn is easier to hide. 

He flicks the lighter to life and is deciding where to hold it on his body when he hears the first knock. 

“Kells.” Shit. He loosens his grip on the lighter and the flame goes out. 

What is Em doing out of bed, and what the fuck is he doing down here?

“Kells,” Em tries again, “You good?” 

“I’m fine.” He lies. 

“Are you fucking smoking in there?” Outside, Em’s voice grows suspicious. He heard the lighter go on and now he thinks Colson is smoking weed in his bathroom. That would be easier to explain. 

After too long of a pause he says, “No.” 

Em doesn’t give a warning before he throws open the bathroom door. Colson wants to knock his head into the mirror for not thinking to lock it. He dives for the blade on the counter, but Em is staring right at it. 

“What the fuck?” Em looks between Colson and the counter multiple times. It’s a stupid overdramatic response, but he wants to slit his fucking wrists from that look. 

Em’s brow furrows. Colson feels sick to his stomach. Em is pissed at him. He’s disgusted by him. He doesn’t know whether to throw him out or call a mental hospital. He hates him. He must be so angry. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out. I was trying to hide it. I shouldn’t have done it here. I know it’s fucking sick. I know it’s fucking crazy to cut and burn myself, I know but I...” Excuses and apologies trip over each other running off of his tongue. 

“You’re cutting yourself?” Em interrupts him. His intense gaze sweeps over Colson. He’s not disgusted or angry like he’d thought. He’s shocked, confused, and even a bit hurt. 

“I... yeah.”

“Why?” A loaded question like that shoots Colson right through the chest. Why? He can hardly answer the question to himself, how is he supposed to explain it to Em?

Em said it himself, he was just clownin’ when talking about cutting himself, how fucked up does someone have to be to actually do that? Colson doesn’t want to explain to Em how fucked up he is.

When he doesn’t answer, Em looks back down at the blade and then at the lighter still in his hand. Kells sees the thousands of things he wants to say and the million questions he wants to ask in his eyes. Finally his eyes set, and Kells braces himself for the next thing to come out of Em’s mouth. 

“Don’t do that shit tonight, yeah? Just come back to bed.” The response shocks Colson even more silent than he’d been. Does he still want to know why, or is he just dropping it? 

As if reading his mind, Em shrugs, “You can tell me why when you’re ready. Tonight, I just want to cuddle your ass.” He holds out his hand to Colson and laces their fingers together tightly when he grabs on. Em tugs him gently out of the bathroom and down the hall back to his room. Colson leaves the lighter and the blade on the counter. 

When they’re back in bed, Em holds him differently than he has before, His arm feels weighted, it presses Colson gently down into the bed, unable to move from the hold. Em holds him from behind protectively and breathes into Colson’s neck. It’s so close it’s almost claustrophobic, but Colson wouldn’t pull away from it even if he could. The urge to hurt himself is immediately replaced by the need to burrow in closer to Em’s grounding touch. 

He falls asleep easily, letting the last of his shame and fear at Em’s reaction leave his body without a fight. 

In the morning, he goes to clean his stuff up in the bathroom, or to throw it away, but not to use it. When he gets there, the bag, the razor, and the lighter are nowhere to be found. Instead of being anxious at the loss, he feels a bit calmed by it. 

This isn’t the end. He won’t be able to stop hurting himself just because Em got rid of a few of his blades and one of his many designated lighters, but it is a start. 

Em knows now, he’s looking out for it. And if the way he always acts toward him, from the making sure Colson is eating to the cuddle last night is any indication, he’ll be there when Colson needs it. He’ll take care of him. 

#Anonymous #emgk #zwowfic #kind of a rushed ending #but i hope u liked it bebs #also like askbox nd messages are always open for those who wanna talk #tw: self harm

[brief-enc0unters]

i haven’t used this account in 4/5 years now but i needed somewhere to go that i could just literally let everything out knowing that no one will see it and no one will ever know and this is gonna be such a jumble of everything but i’m just gonna write.

i really really hope that there is another lockdown soon so that i don’t have to pretend to be absolutely fine in front of everyone and no one will worry about me and i don’t have to talk to or burden anyone because i just know that’s what i’m doing right now. i walk around every single day feeling like dying and i don’t know what’s got me into this headspace or how to get out of it but i’m going into a spiral that i’ve seen before but worse because i feel like i can’t talk to anyone about it because i can’t fucking burden people anymore because they will just LEAVE. it’s like tia said, just fake it.

what she said to me really did hurt me. i understand that people are trying to help me and don’t know what to say but saying that she isn’t gonna help me until i’ve done something about it (which i HAVE) makes me feel like everyone is just gonna walk away. and i asked amelia to call me today and she hasn’t and i’m scared she’s mad at me and i’m scared all of them are talking about me behind my back and i’m scared i’m surrounded by bunch of foxes that simply just fucking hate me and you know what i wouldn’t blame them because i am a MESS i am not a good person. i rang tia crying on sunday and she just said ‘your brain is convincing you things aren’t fine when things are actually on the up for you’ and that broke me because i’ve only been acting bubbly for everyone else around me because they’re all going through a hard time and i need to be there for them and make them happy but oh my god it’s getting too hard now.

everything has just. happened. at once. i quit uni. i feel like i’ve failed myself, my parents, my friends. my dad was really fucking horrible to me. i don’t know what i want to do with my life anymore. i fell out with one of the closest people to me. my job is going to fucking tatters. and now my brain is going to the worst possible fucking thing and telling me that maybe i shouldn’t do anything with my life because actually, i’d be better off dead. i’m fighting SO SO hard to not relapse into doing something stupid.

my brain keeps going back to that horrible night from 4 years ago. it replays back in my head. but my brains convinced myself that i’ve made it all up. but it won’t go away. maybe i deserved it. maybe i literally just deserve everything bad and maybe people don’t need me putting my mess into their lives anymore. i’m on more medication, ive been put on a year long waiting list for the mental health team. i’m not gonna do anything bad tonight but i don’t know how much longer i can hold on. i’m in a constant battle of asking someone for help yet not wanting to bother a soul. maybe it’d be easier for others if i just went by alone.

i punched a wall earlier. and screamed. it felt good in that moment. if i feel like this tomorrow i might do it again. and then i have to go to work, put my happy mask on, and get through it.

i still haven’t forgiven * for the things he said to me. i’m just pretending i have because it’s better for everyone. everyone loves him and i don’t think anyone understands why he hurt me and what he said to hurt me. he’s spoken to everyone about me. i know everyone sees me as the bad person anyway. there’s no point. fake it till you make it, that’s what they say. if i have to pretend to love him to make everyone’s life easier, then i will.

i’m so so so fucked right now.

[eryiss]

Chapter Eleven - The End

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. Hope you enjoy it. Also, despite what the chapter name says, there is one more chapter after this. 

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Eleven – The End

Freed had flaws.

It was something that he had tried to keep to himself; he was an image conscious man and, at some point in his life, he had attributed having flaws as some kind of weakness. This wasn't helped because of his career, something where image really was everything. One fumble on your words, one change in your body language, one misplaced hair and your opponent would jump on it in an attempt to delegitimise both you and your arguments. And slowly, subconsciously, Freed had convinced himself that he had no flaws.

But that was a fiction, and one that he was being forced to confront. He was emotionally repressed, and closed himself off from vulnerability or the chance of embarrassment. He had little life outside of his work, and had convinced himself he was happy like that when he wasn't. He had a superiority complex that often-alienated people and put a strain on relationships with people not willing to push back at him.

They were not comfortable realisations to have, and they had hit him hard.

However, Freed was not only made of flaws. He had many positive traits, one of which was his practicality. So when all of his flaws were pointed out to him, he did not mope for long, nor did he fall into a spiral of regret and self-loathing. Instead, he made a decision to make a change in himself, to grow out of his flaws.

It was why he was dressed like this: a black sleeveless shirt, and black jeans, with his hair tied up into a messy ponytail. Though to an outsider it wasn't a large change, it was significant for Freed. His job required a certain look, and did such a large amount of overtime that his suits were practically the only things he wore. Again, in a gradual change that Freed hadn't been aware of, his wardrobe turned into nothing but suits. It had become something like societal armour for him, a way to avoid judgment because he knew that he looked good and felt confident like that.

Laxus had mentioned that. Laxus had been the catalyst for all of this self-reflection.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror, frowning a little. The only reason he had these clothes were because, during Christmas, Bickslow had attempted to get Freed to go clubbing with him and attempted to guilt him into doing it by buying him the clothes as a gift. It was an interesting look for Freed, he wasn't sure about it.

"Well hot damn," A loud voice said from behind him, followed by a wolf whistle. Freed turned to see Bickslow standing at the door of his bedroom. "Where have you been hiding those arms? You're looking fine~"

Freed didn't say anything, glancing at his bare arms.

"Don't embarrass him," Evergreen's hushed as she walked past the doorframe, dragging Bickslow with her. Freed walked out of his bedroom, entering the open plan living room of his apartment. "You do look great though. Casual works on you."

"And I bet blondie is gonna love it," Bickslow grinned.

Again, Freed said nothing. He kept glancing at himself in any reflective surface that he could find, each time making him feel slightly more comfortable in the outfit. He shook his head slightly at the stupidity of his actions, walking to the kitchen and leaning on the counter as he checked the time on his phone. He would have to leave soon.

"What d'you think you're going to say to him?" Ever asked, sitting on the counter beside him.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," Freed admitted, leaning back and sighing. "I spent most of last night thinking about it, actually. At one point I decided to draft out what I wanted to say, which didn't help me at all. I'm hoping that seeing him will help."

"Just speak from the heart man," Bickslow smiled.

"Well, emotional vulnerability is a strength of mine," Freed let out a small chuckle as he spoke. "But that will probably be the best, won't it."

"And don't forget to grovel your ass off," Evergreen grinned.

Freed laughed slightly, but nodded. His friends had made it quite clear over the last two weeks that, the way he had left it with Laxus was stupid and unnecessary. Freed had taken issue with their claims at first, because if Laxus wanted to keep their relationship platonic then Freed felt he couldn't be near him for a while. But when Bickslow and Evergreen had said, in no uncertain terms, that Freed was just 'being pointlessly defensive like you always do when you try to be vulnerable,' it was hard to deny they had a point.

It had somewhat recontextualized their conversation at the party. For Freed, it had been a way to save face; to avoid the chance for embarrassment. But for Laxus, it probably felt like a rejection of their friendship. An end to any relationship, platonic or otherwise, between them.

Freed had felt sick when he realised that.

The memory of the realisation made his mood plummet.

"Hey, don't look like that," Bickslow smiled, patting Freed's shoulder and nudging him with his thigh. "You're new to… emotions. And being honest with your mistakes," Freed hardened his expressions by reflex at that. "But it ain't that bad, what happened. You kinda did a little bit of a fuck up, which happens. You're going to talk to him, make up for what happened, and then maybe if you're lucky you'll get some dick. Again."

Against his better judgment, a slither of a smile fell onto Freed's face.

"You're incorrigible," Freed scolded, though laughed.

"Was he good?" Evergreen asked, and Freed shook his head as he stood up. "He looks like he'd be good."

"You are both awful people," Freed said with a grin. "I'm trying to get into a headspace where I can have an emotional and heartfelt conversation with a level of vulnerability I am not comfortable with, for a man I care for very greatly. And the two of you talking about my night with the aforementioned man is not helping."

"We couldn't be more sorry," Bickslow grinned in his lie.

"Yes, you sound positively repentant," Freed muttered, pushing off from the counter and standing straight. "I should go, before it gets too late. You don't mind dealing with the trucks, do you? I'd rather not linger any longer than I have to."

"Of course," Evergreen smiled. "It's all going into storage for now, isn't it?"

Freed nodded.

"You coming back tonight?" Bickslow asked, before grinning. "Roomie."

"I suppose that'll be dependent on what happens, won't it?"

Freed walked through his front door, holding it open for his friends to walk through. Once they had, he looked into the large apartment, devoid of both furniture and evidence of life. He scanned the place he had lived for all his adult life, almost shocked by the lack of emotions he felt when he considered it would no longer be his home. Perhaps it was because it had never felt like a home, but rather a selection of rooms that he existed in when not working. Or perhaps it was because he felt that there was something better for him coming soon if luck was on his side.

But, as he flicked off the light and locked the door, he didn't care. He had other priorities today.

He took a breath before he walked in. He needed the courage.

Fairy Tail, for his time in Magnolia, had been something of a safe haven for him. Before he'd moved into the house, Fairy Tail had been where he had stayed and it had turned into a home away from home, of sorts. But now, having not been there for a while, it felt something like a fortress that he would have to conquer. A monolithic blockade that signified what he needed to do to take the next step in his life.

Because Freed knew that he had hurt Laxus; he couldn't delude himself otherwise. After Bickslow and Evergreen had explained just how stupid he had been – again, their words – he had demanded Evergreen ask Elfman about Laxus' state. Apparently he was shut off, without enthusiasm and quick to anger.

Freed was to blame for this, and the people who had dealt with the fallout were in the hotel.

After further attempts to calm his nerves, Freed walked through the front garden of the hotel and into the hotel. The bell chimed and it sent a rush of nerves into the pit of Freed's stomach. As the door closed, he was met with the sight of Cana and Mirajane. Perhaps the two people Freed hoped to see least.

There was a moment of silence, where recognition turned to icy expressions.

"Oh look who it is," Cana said, pushing up from the reception and taking a step forward. "Mr fuck 'em and leave 'em, huh. You've a lot of balls showing up here."

A slurry of comments flashed through Freed's mind, because as willing as he may be to grovel for Laxus' forgiveness, that was not something he was going to do for people who he barely knew. However, he knew that Laxus was important to these people, and it was clear that they had protective instincts over him, so he bit his tongue. Though a hint of bitterness did fill him at the way he was addressed.

"I wish to see Laxus," He said in reply, fighting the instinct to scratch at his hand. "Where is he?"

"Why?" Mirajane asked, and her tone lacked the gentleness it normally did. "Because from what I've seen, I don't think he'd want to see you."

"Has he told you that?" Freed's voice had a hint of an edge to it now. "Because if not, then perhaps it would be best if you don't speak for him and allow him to make up his own mind; I'm sure you agree."

Cana went to speak, but before she said anything the door to the office swung open and two people walked out: Makarov and Lisanna. Freed almost sighed in frustration at the sight of the older man, because, if Freed had understood the man as well as he thought, Makarov's protective instinct over Laxus was so much higher than that of his friends. And the scowl on his face suggested that Freed's assessment had been correct.

"You," He snapped, voice carrying a ferocity that Freed hadn't heard out of court. "What are you doing on my property?"

"I wish to see your grandson," Freed explained, continuing before he could stop himself. "If you can tell me where he is, I'll happily leave your property. Though given that it is a retail business I feel the need to say I have a right to be here."

"My Grandson is no business of yours," Makarov growled in his throat, stepping towards Freed. "Over the last few weeks he had become a shell of his former self. And you are entirely to blame for that."

Freed resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"And how exactly have you come to that conclusion?" Freed asked, making as good an effort to remain polite as he could. "Because, despite it not being something you may want to admit, I know your grandson very well. And knowing him, I can be sure in the fact that he has not spoken of our conversation to any of you. So perhaps you should hold your assumptions for now and allow him to make up his own mind."

"I found him crying alone. On New Year's Eve he was sat alone and in tears. Because you left him like that," Makarov grunted, taking another step forward. "You're right, he didn't tell me what happened, but I know a damn broken heart when I see it. Especially when it comes to my own grandson. And you have the audacity to come here, as if you can walk back into his life without repercussion. I should spit at you."

"Where is he?" Freed repeated, now scratching at his palm again as frustration grew.

"I can assure you that if I have anything to say about it, you will not see my grandson again and you certainly will not hurt him," Makarov snarled. "Leave, you cruel hearted bastard."

Freed felt his jaw clench at that, and his eyes flickered over the three other people in the reception. Cana was glaring at him; with an expression one might save for a murderer. Mirajane was nodding in agreement to Makarov's demand, her lips pressed into a firm line. Lisanna looked more hesitant, glancing at Makarov with a look of almost concern before her eyes flickered towards Freed. For a moment they shared eye contact, and a flash of pity crossed her features that made Freed feel a little calmer.

"Why're you still here?" Cana snapped. "Fuck off, fucking manipulative whore."

And that was the moment that Freed's patience snapped.

Because his road to self-betterment had only just started, and when insulted he favoured fight over flight.

"I have a lot of things to say to you all, but as I don't wish to waste my time on insignificant people I intend to keep this brief," Freed snapped, voice rivalling Makarov's in hostility. "You may believe that you have Laxus' best interests at heart by this little performance, but if you used so much as an ounce of thought, then you would probably conclude that he would both hate this and resent you for doing it. He is a prideful man, as well as a free-thinking adult, and having people speak for him without his permission is something I expect doubt he would abhor."

"You do not know my grandson better-" Makarov began.

"Do not interrupt me!" Freed yelled with a power that years of professional arguing had gifted him. "And do not play some saintly role, because I am more than aware of how focused you have all been on whatever relationship Laxus and myself may have had. You have strongarmed yourselves into our relationship by making comments, jokes and invasive suggestions. This protective defence you're doing is a continuation of that. A way to paint yourselves as the heroes of the story, the valiant defenders who protected the weak of the pack. But Laxus is not weak, and you really should stop treating him as such."

"Don't act like you know us," Cana scoffed. "We've barely spoken."

"And yet you act as though you know me perfectly," Freed retorted. "But you don't. You don't know me, nor the nature of what Laxus and I have had. You have made assumptions, all of which seem to be incorrect."

Freed took a sigh to calm himself. He needed to get this back onto the topic.

"When I left your grandson last, he was not crying. Had I known he would, I promise that I would not have left him," He said, voice calmer but still tainted with anger. "I will not divulge what we spoke of, as that is our business, but if you believe I simply bedded Laxus and left him then let me make it clear that I did not. I care for him greatly, and the fact that I have hurt him burns at me. But I am here in an attempt to make amends for this, something I can only do if I see him. Should he tell me to leave and never contact him, as you so clearly want, then I will respect that. But I will not take orders from strangers.

"Now, given you're so clearly invested in what happens between us, I will be clear. I intend to find him, speak to him and hopefully rekindle whatever relationship I can," Freed straightened his back, a glare on his face. "And if I may leave you with some advice for the future, when it comes to our relationship, mind your own fucking business."

He spun on his heels, and left the reception of Fairy Tail.

His pace was quick, and the anger spurred him on, adrenaline a good counter for the cold air hitting his bare arms. He stormed down the steep hill of magnolia, ears not picking up the sound of running shoes on the cobbles behind him. He was too busy focused calming his breathing.

"Freed," Lisanna's voice came from behind, and Freed glanced over his shoulder to see she was alone. "Slow down."

"Why?" He grunted.

"Because I know where he is, asshole," She snapped back, and Freed slightly slowed his pace. After catching up with him, Lisanna spoke again. "Look, don't pay too much attention to them. Getting involved in other people's business is what happens in villages. And they're a protective lot, but they don't mean any insult."

"Yes they do."

"Okay, maybe they do a bit," Lisanna admitted, sighing. "But that's not why I came out here. I wanted to say that I think it'd be good if you talked to Laxus. I know they all disagree, but I think I know you pretty well, and I don't think you'd hurt Laxus intentionally. So even if you don't manage to… fix everything, it might give you a chance to explain what happened and help cheer him up."

"That's what I'm hoping to do," Freed spoke softly.

"I know. You're nice, you just have to look hard at you to see it," Lisanna smiled, patting Freed's arm. "He's at a job right now, doing some house work. I'm sure Bob won't mind you stopping by."

After Lisanna wrote down the address of the house Laxus was working at, he thanked her and was pulled into a shockingly strong hug. He returned it, somewhat awkwardly, before letting her go and smiling at her. It was nice to know that he had an ally of sorts with her, given that he had essentially burned all bridged with all of the other people important to Laxus.

"I hope you do make it up to each other," Lisanna admitted softly. "You brought out the best of him."

"He brought out the best of me," Freed whispered, and he felt his anger dissipate slightly. The admission of Laxus' influence was invigorating and comforting at the same time.

"Then make it up with him," Lisanna said. "And be good to him."

"I will," Freed promised. "I really will."

When he saw Laxus, it made his stomach churn and flip simultaneously.

He was in a small front garden, standing with his back to Freed while trimming the wayward leaves of an overgrown tree. The wires plugged into his ears told Freed that he was listening to music, and the sight of his right leg bobbing slightly in tune to a rhythm sent a rush of relief through Freed. Getting lost in music was something that often happened when he worked on the house, and Freed was glad to see that hadn't changed.

Perhaps stupidly, Freed had convinced himself that Laxus would be a shell of his former self. It was good that he wasn't.

Approaching slowly, and steadying his breath again, Freed coughed to get his attention. It didn't work initially, so Freed waited a moment for Laxus to climb down from the small step ladder he was stood on, before tapping the blonde on the shoulder. Laxus turned, then took a startled half step back when he saw who it was. Freed smiled weakly at him as Laxus took out his headphones.

"Freed," He slightly stammered out, pupils dilated.

"Hello Laxus," Freed spoke quietly. "It's nice to see you."

"Hi," Laxus seemed almost breathless as he spoke.

They took a few moments to look one another up and down. Laxus looked the same as he had since they last saw, in most ways. He still stood tall, his clothes still clung to his large form, and his face was as handsome as it always had. But there were slight bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were drooped just a little. Freed felt a rush of guilt flow through him; he couldn't remember Laxus looking like this in their time spent together, and the change was his fault.

But he couldn't linger on that guilt for too long, because Laxus finished sizing him up at the same time Freed had with him. Their eyes met, and Freed found himself breathless as he was trapped in the blue pupils that had been haunting him.

"What are you doing here?" Laxus asked, voice more hesitant than hostile.

"I wished to speak with you," Freed explained, taking a step forward. Laxus didn't step back, and the proximity gave Freed a slight burst of confidence. "So long as that's not a problem?"

"Erm. No. No that should be, erm… That should be fine," Laxus said, looking over his shoulder to the house. "Just let me see if Bob doesn't mind me taking a bit of time off. He won't, but I need to be sure."

Freed nodded, and watched as Laxus jogged back into the house; Freed scolded himself for glancing over the vast expanse of the man's back as he retreated. Less than a minute later, Laxus returned to the garden, now wearing a leather, fur lined jacket that had become a favourite of Freed's during their time together. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of the ruffled fake-fur bordering Laxus' neck.

"You ain't cold are ya?" Laxus asked, voice awkwardly polite. It bothered Freed, but he'd expected it. "I could ask Bob for something, if you need it. I mean, you have pretty different styles, but cold is cold. Although, you seem to have changed it up a bit."

"Yes," Freed said, not missing the roaming eyes on him again. "But I'm fine, I don't need a coat."

Laxus shrugged, motioning towards the pathway that Freed had just walked down to get there. Without needing to say anything, Freed began walking down the road, Laxus keeping in step with him. Even in the awkwardness between them, Freed couldn't help but notice how easy it was to understand what Laxus was thinking without him saying anything. Freed enjoyed knowing what someone was thinking without them speaking.

"The bathroom in the house is done," Laxus said eventually, breaking the ice. "I sent you an email, don't know if you got it."

"I did," Freed nodded, thinking back to the email. The very formal email. "I didn't reply in case you didn't want to hear from me."

"Is it okay?" Laxus asked.

"I haven't been to the house yet, but I know it'll be excellent," Freed spoke with confidence, because Laxus was excellent with what he did. "You were my priority for coming here, though."

Laxus let out a small hum in response, and they fell into silence again as a chill ran over Freed's bare arms, not that he paid it any mind. It was stupid but, after their time spent apart, even walking next to Laxus in a relatively uncomfortable silence felt great. Laxus seemed to have a calming aura to him that affected Freed in a way he couldn't explain.

But, he wasn't here to indulge himself in his urge to be close to Laxus in any way the blonde allowed him to. He was here to make it up to Laxus, to hopefully make him feel a little better at worst, and perhaps propose a new relationship at best.

"I have to apologise," Freed began. "For quite a lot of things, really."

"No you don't," Laxus said, either out of instinct or politeness.

"Don't be kind about this, Laxus. It's not the moment for that," Freed spoke with a firmness in his voice. "The fact is, I've done a lot of selfish things to you, and whether intentionally or not I have hurt you. I need to make up for that, and the first step is to apologise."

When Laxus didn't say anything, Freed saw that as encouragement for him to continue.

"When I first kissed you, and the night we spent together, I did it out of selfishness," Freed began. "I know you disagreed when I said that before, but it was. I wanted you, and I prioritised that over both our friendship and any repercussions that might have come with it. It was a selfish moment born out of a lack of self-control."

"You know I wanted it as much as you did," Laxus parroted his response from their previous discussion on the matter.

"It wouldn't have happened had I not pushed it," Freed said firmly. "I also need to apologise for how we left things last time. Why I said we should take a break from each other… it was an excuse. The truth was that I'm terrified of embarrassment. I've spent most of my life avoiding situations where it might happen. And I was embarrassed after what happened, and my kneejerk reaction to that is to close off and avoid it. Which, now I say it out loud, is utterly pathetic."

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "It was fucking pathetic."

Freed was shocked that he felt no offence at that.

"You ain't apologised for it yet," Laxus continued.

"No," Freed agreed. "I am so sorry for that Laxus. Without being hyperbolic, that was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and I will regret it for the rest of my life," He sighed a little, breath fogging. "But I know that an apology isn't enough. So I want to make it clear that I'm trying to improve myself; to confront my flaws."

"Really?" Laxus said, looking ahead.

"I've contacted a therapist, with the intention of having weekly sessions with her," Freed admitted, and Laxus' gaze fell on him. "I'm hoping that she can help me with a lot of things. Both with my… issues with how I'm perceived, and other, smaller problems. Specifically with how I'm dealing with my mother's death."

"Right," Laxus said with a slight nod. "Sounds like something that'd be good for you."

Again, they didn't speak for a short while, and Freed found that they had walked into one of Magnolia's parks; he'd been too busy focused on the apology to notice where they had gone. He'd never been to the park before, he'd never had the time nor the inclination, but it was a beautiful place. A long expanse of grass, with flowerbeds decorating the edges. And near the entrance was a large pond, with Lilypad's floating atop the surface and benches surrounding it.

"I've quit my job," Freed said as they walked along the path. Laxus stopped where he stood.

"What the fuck?"

"I've left my job," Freed repeated. "It was overdue."

"You loved your job," Laxus frowned, voice confused. "You said it was the biggest part of your life. You just fuckin' quit it?"

"It's a fairly clear summary of my life, isn't it? That the biggest part of my life was something that I grew to hate," He chuckled out loud. "I'm selling my apartment as well. Something else that I should have done a while ago."

"The fuck are you- Why are you-" Laxus stammered slightly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're the catalyst for this. I've been playing at life for a while, doing what I thought I was meant to for years now. I got the job I was told to get. I got the apartment I want meant to strive for. But, I wasn't happy, and I didn't realise it until I came here. Until I met you. You've made me a better man, and I want you to know how important you are to me," Freed admitted, before frowning. "And this isn't a form of guilt tripping. I'm not trying to make you feel obligated to forgive me for what I did. These are all things that I should have done years ago, for myself. I just want you to know how better I am for having met you."

"You know where you're gonna live?" Laxus asked. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Freed felt he heard a slight glimmer of hope in Laxus' tone.

"Bickslow's apartment, for now," Freed explained. "In terms of future plans, there's a lot of things to think about."

"Is one of those things the topic you've been avoiding?" Laxus asked. "What the next steps are for the two of us."

"That is a large thing to consider," Freed agreed.

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. He tilted his head to the nearest bench that bordered the pond. "Sit."

Freed did as he was told, and sat on the bench. When Laxus sat beside him, a chill went through his spine as he felt Laxus' thigh rest against his and remain there. He tried not to let a glimmer of hope bloom through him, but a small smile did flicker into his features before he schooled it off. Hopefully Laxus didn't notice.

"You can tell yer a lawyer," Laxus continued. "I come up with a list of reasons why we shouldn't be together, and you address them all."

"Sorry," Freed said with a small smile. "Winning arguments its hardwired into me."

"Yeah, realised that," Laxus chuckled a little, before turning serious again and looking at Freed. "Freed, all this stuff your doing is great, and I'm sure it'll help you become a better and happier person. But things like therapy, they take time. It's not like you'll go into a session and be the best version of yourself by the end of it. And if you're looking for a new job and you've just moved out… I don't think it's the best time for us to start anything."

His heart leapt slightly at the idea that Laxus was even considering starting something with him. But he didn't let his excitement show, instead nodding slightly.

"If you're not ready, or if you just don't want to-"

"I want to Freed, I really want to," Laxus said firmly, and Freed couldn't fight the smile. "I've wanted to be with you since I first met you. But if we start – when we start – then we only got one chance at it. Because I feel really strongly about you, and I'm worried if we fuck it up it'll turn to hatred. And I can't hate you. I don't wanna hate you."

"I don't want to hate you either."

Again, silence fell between them. And Freed understood what Laxus was saying, because he too had such strong feelings for Laxus. At that moment those feelings were fondness, adoration, friendship and potentially love. But if they messed up, if their relationship was bad and it grew resentment between them both, then all the passion he felt for the man could be twisted into anger and disgust. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

"What if we wait a month," Laxus eventually said.

"What?" Freed asked.

"A month. In exactly a month's time, we see how we're both doing. If we're in a better place than we are now, and if we both think it's time then we go on a date and see what happens," Laxus had a sense of purpose in his voice. An authority. "That okay?"

"Yes," Freed said without hesitation. "But, what if we're not ready by next month?"

"Then we wait another month. Or however long it takes," Laxus claimed, and it was perhaps the most romantic thing Freed had heard. "You think you can do that?"

"Without a doubt," Freed promised. "The truth of the matter is, Laxus, that I would do anything to keep you in my life."

And then a beautiful thing happened. Freed was given the angelic sight of Laxus' lips contorting into a mischievous, wide grin. His eyes sparkled with a childish, competitive glee. Laxus had clearly seen Freed's promise as some sort of challenge and, as he had done with every perceived challenge between the two of them, had decided he would take Freed up on the challenge. It was incredible to see, and Freed felt as though, in that look, he had been forgiven.

"Anything huh?" He said with a grin in his tone. "Because, y'know, when we do go on a date I get to pick what we do. And I'm pretty sure I wanna get some petty revenge on ya. That okay?"

"Depends on what the date is, I suppose," Freed mused, smirking, "But I doubt you'll think of something I'd refuse."

"Even if I make you dress up as a medieval jester, have you shout crappy limericks in the high street all day while I get people to throw rotten eggs and tomatoes at ya."

"I would do that," Freed nodded. "I'd be confused about why you'd want me to do that, because that is both a very odd and very specific threat. But yes, if that is what you want then I would do it."

"Thought you didn't like getting embarrassed," Laxus teased.

"For you, I don't mind," Freed smiled. "I'm just sorry that it took me this long to realise it."

"Enough apologising, it doesn't suit you," Laxus laughed.

"Fair," Freed grinned, before his mind went back slightly. "Where on earth did the idea of dressing me up as a jester, having me shout limericks and throwing eggs at me come from?"

"Ah, Mirajane was acting like I was some heartbroken teenager and kept trying to cheer me up," Laxus laughed. "In the end it was either going to the spa with her and her sister, or watching a crappy TV Movie while eating ice cream. After the villain of the movie lost his money, he had to advertise a crappy medieval restaurant and that's what ended up happening to him. Thought it suited you."

"You think I deserve the same fate as a TV movie villain?" Freed chuckled. "Is that what you see me as, a villain?"

"Fuck yeah I do," Laxus grinned. "But I think villains are hot, so don't feel bad."

"I consider it a compliment," Freed laughed, before groaning. Laxus frowned at him. "On the topic of me being a villain, it is entirely possible that I offended basically everyone important to you before I found you."

"How the fuck did you do that?" Laxus cackled.

"I may have ranted at them for a while, and told them to mind their own fucking business."

"For fucks sake," Laxus laughed. "You really don't make things easy for yourself, do ya?"

Freed just laughed, and as he did he felt his head rest against Laxus' by accident. He opened his eyes to see that their foreheads were resting against each other. Their laughter died, and Freed felt his pace increase again. His heart hammered heavily in his chest, and he could feel a buzzing anticipation flow through him.

It was a similar sensation to when he had kissed Laxus in the car. Anticipation grew and grew, as if whatever happened next was inevitable. A rush of adrenaline pushed him forward slightly, and he was so incredibly aware of how Laxus' roaming eyes were flicking between his eyes and his lips.

They were going to kiss.

And, somehow, he knew it would be better this time. Because this wasn't a mistake, this wasn't Freed giving into his urges against his better judgment. This was something that he and Laxus wanted, and perhaps they were owed at this point.

But Laxus' reasoning for not starting a relationship rushed back to his mind, and stopped him from moving forward.

"Laxus," He whispered. "I though you wanted to wait until we started dating."

"I do," Laxus whispered back. "But I also wanna kiss you so fucking bad right now. And you got a poorly timed kiss, it's my turn."

In that moment, there was no doubt in Freed's mind that he and Laxus were meant to be together.

And then, Laxus took Freed into a beautiful, passionate, incredible kiss. It was everything.

#Fraxus Day 2020 #Fraxus Day #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Event #Multichapter #Word Count 6k #Fuckyeahfraxus

[lihikainanea]

Tiger calling Bill in the smallest, most submissive headspace she's ever been in. She doesn't even sound like herself on the phone, its soft and almost high pitched because she's floating so sweetly. And Bill is shook. The poor guy is at a loss for words because hearing her like that makes his dick hard. Plus its brand new territory for him because she's never been like this before. What got her there? No clue LOL I'll leave that up to you ;)

Ohhh baby, I love this so, so much.

But like hang on here, is she small in a good way or a bad way? YOU KNOW WHAT LET’S DO BOTH.

Okay so like, a bad way, right? And I kind of love this idea that there’s really nothing that triggered it. Nothing drastic, anyway. I don’t know I feel like we all get in terrible moods that sometimes have no catalyst other than just we feel like being in a terrible mood. Maybe the entire thing is mundane—like, it’s a Wednesday or something. They didn’t have an intense night. Really nothing would have set this off. And tiger is grumpy, because Wednesday. But Bill woke her up, and she was basically just on his chest so when he sat up slowly she didn’t have a choice but to wake up. And he gives her some gentle hugs, some butt pats to coax her into the shower so she can start getting ready. He has a few meetings today and he really didn’t have to be up until later, but may as well start the day now. Bill is annoyingly optimistic like that.

So anyway, he packs up her lunch and she’s basically just like, grumbled incoherent sounds at him the entire time but he’s used to that. Mornings are hard for tiger. But with a sweet smooch and a little butt pinch, she’s on her way.

And who knows—maybe her coworkers are kind of dicks and that triggered it. Maybe she has a lot to do and that triggered it. Or maybe legitimately nothing triggered it, and she just started to spiral. Started to not feel so well, as her mind got away on her. And progressively over the course of like, half an hour—everything just became so loud and overwhelming and so too much and she couldn’t quiet it. Couldn’t fight her way back to rational.

So she called the one person who always can. Who always makes it all go away, and makes everything more clear.

“Hey kid,” he answered on the second ring, “What’s up?

“Hi,” she stuttered out. And Bill has gotten so good that he can tell just by the tone of her voice. Can tell she’s slipping, or that she’s gone completely. In this case, she’s probably halfway there.

“Oh sweet girl,” he murmurs softly, “What happened?”

“I…I don’t know,” she’s trying to talk over the lump in her throat.

“Okay,” he said, “Tiger, where are you?”

“At work,” she mumbles.

He checks his watch. His next meeting isn’t until this afternoon but he can leave home now, meet her at her work, and then go to his meeting after.

“What time are you taking lunch at today, kid?” He asks. She shrugs even though he can’t see her.

“I don’t know.”

“Come downstairs at noon, tiger. I’ll meet you in the lobby,” and he tells her, he doesn’t ask. It’s better that way.

“Okay,” she stutters out. And man, she sounds broken.

“You’re okay sweet girl,” he murmurs to her, “Hang in there for another half an hour, okay? Just half an hour. And then I’ll make it better.”

She sniffles a bit, nodding.

“Do you want to stay on the phone with me until then?” He asks.

“No I can…I can manage,” she mumbles.

“Yes you can. I love you kid, I’ll see you soon. I’ll make it go away for you,” he promises.

And she knows that he will—because he always does—so already he can relax just a tad. And at noon she goes downstairs to the lobby and he’s there, tucking her under his arm and walking her out to his car. There’s not enough time to go home, but he finds a secluded spot—maybe in the dark corner of an indoor parking.

“Climb in the back with me, kid,” he says as he opens the door. He folds into the back and when she joins him, he reaches for her immediately and pulls her into his lap. He kisses her slow and deep, weaving his hands through her hair. 

“Did something happen, sweet girl?” He asked when he finally pulled away. She shook her head.

“I just started to feel…bad,” she mumbled. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth but he reached forward, gently tugging it loose with his thumb. He gently pushed on her lip and she opened readily, sucking his thumb inside.

“It happens sometimes,” he reassured, “You did good to call me, tiger. That took a lot of strength. You’re so good for me, sweet girl.”

She looked up at him with big eyes and he just pulled her forward, tucked her under his chin and wrapped his arm tight around her.

“You’ve had a lot going on,” he kissed the top of her head, the side of her nose that he could reach, “It’s normal that it all starts to get a bit overwhelming.”

And he let it fall into a comfortable silence, just her in his arms, his thumb in her mouth, trying to pull her out of her own thoughts and just give her a bit of comfort. When it’s almost time for her to go back to work, he shifts her so that she’s facing him again.

“Eyes on me kid,” he commands softly and her eyes snap to his, “I know you have some important shit you need to get done this afternoon, tiger. And you will.You’re going to get through it because that’s what you do. And then when you get home—we’ll really make this go away, okay? I’ll put you on your knees like you need, and we’ll get you feeling good again. Okay?”

She whimpers a little, then nods.

“Just get through the next few more hours kid. You can do it,” he murmurs.

He probably walks her back in, staying with her as much as he can until she has to go. And you know, tiger’s a bad ass bitch and she absolutely powers through the afternoon because now at least…she knows. She knows it’s going to get better, if she can just make it through. And she does. And I’ll bet when she gets home—oh man. She comes through the door and just frantically kicks off her shoes. She can hear Bill in the kitchen and I’ll bet that she barely even greets him. I’ll bet she just goes running in and just…immediately gets on her knees in front of him, her hands in her lap, looking up at him and begging.

“My good girl,” he purrs, walking over to her.

BUT ALSO THEN LIKE

Okay so what if she’s actually in a small head space but in a good way? And again, there’s really nothing that triggered it. Maybe she’s just out with some friends for brunch and she ate well and it’s a beautiful crisp day outside and she’s warm and full of good feelings and she’s just so goddamn soft for her big dude. And she just wants to hear his voice—that deep, velvety purr that still has the slightest lilt to it no matter how much he tries to fight it. So she slips away for a second, goes to find an empty hallway or something and calls him.

“Hey tiger,” he greets, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hi Billy,” she says softly—and again, Bill knows. Bill knows right away. He can’t even pinpoint it, but there’s something in her voice that just tips him off every time.

“Ohhhhh,” he says in realization and his smile gets even bigger, “Hi sweet girl.”

She’s smiling now too—and goddamnit, she’s even blushing.

“Hi,” she says again. Because why fight it? She is his sweet girl.

“Are you having a good time?” He asks. He definitely talks to her a little different when she’s this way, especially if she’s in a good space, because it helps her enjoy it even more.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” she says, “What uh, what are you doing?”

And Bill is a bastard. But he also loves, loves when she gets like this with him. And the fact that she got a little small when she was out with friends, and that she CALLED HIM to talk to him? Bill could die. He could just die.

“Just at home, wishing I had you all wrapped up in my arms,” he tells her, “God, what I wouldn’t give to have my sweet girl on her knees in front of me.”

Tiger actually whimpers. He hears it.

“What?” She stutters.

“You heard me. All soft and sweet for me, those warm lips around my thumb until I give you what you really want to put your mouth around. God kid, I’d pick you right up and lay you out on the bed, my good girl…”

“Bill,” she says feebly, and he smiles. Has to bite his lip to stop the chuckle.

“I’d get you under me, all small and shit. I’d get you feeling so good sweetheart, just bury my face between your legs until you’re screaming for me.”

Tiger is red. Red as a tomato, and her knees are giving out.

“Bill—“ she whimpers again.

“Nothing tastes sweeter than when you’re coming for me, tiger. I crave it. God I’d give my left fucking arm for a taste of you right now.”

Tiger can’t breathe. She literally can’t even make a sound, her eyes closed, her mouth hung open as she leans on the wall for support.

“Are you still with me sweet girl?” He asks after a beat. She takes a minute to try and gain some composure, but he’s still grinning like an asshole.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters, “I’m uh, I’m coming home.”

“I’m not there until closer to dinner time, kid,” he says, “But I’ll tell you what. You stay out with your friends, have a good time. Have a good long think about all the things you want me to do to you tonight.”

She bites her lip.

“And then I’ll text you when I’m on my way home. And tiger?”

“Yeah?” But it comes out as more of a breathless sigh.

“I expect you on your knees for me when I walk through the door,” his voice gets stern and she literally clamps her legs tighter together.

“I will be,” she promises.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Anything,” She says.

“Are you wet for me?”

“Bill—“ she can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Are you?” He demands.

“Yes,” she admits pitifully, “You have no idea how much.”

His deep groan comes through the line and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“God I can’t wait to taste you,” he purrs, “Don’t keep your friends waiting. Go on.”

And she hangs up the phone reluctantly, going back to join their table. But 5 minutes later, a pitcher of mimosas hits the table and all the girls look at the server, confused.

“From a man who calls himself,” the server pauses, clearing his throat as if the next words pain him, “Big daddy.”

Confused looks are exchanged, a few eye rolls, and if anybody caught the way tiger’s cheeks turned pink, nobody said anything. Clearing her throat, she reached for the pitcher.

“Well I for one don’t give a fuck what he wants to call himself, whoever he is,” she says and pours out a glass, “I never refuse free mimosas.”

[dast218]

Days that turned into months and eventually years - Pt 4

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

** I see Damian as cold, at times irrational and a type that won’t think straight after years of being essentially lied to. (He definitely possess hidden love and kindness as well)

I was debating on whether or not to post this but here goes nothing - DLDR

------

Marinette felt numb. Thoughts were uncontrollably rushing through her mind without any direct path. It had to be a dream, it just had too. Right? Her mind is playing tricks with her. No way is that actually Damian. No way would her lover be standing at arms reach. If she dared to stretch out would his form evaporate into thin air? She wanted to test out her theory but at the same time was too afraid to let go of the possibility of him being here, even if it was just a fluke.  

Memories were rapidly flashing, hitting her senses hard. Moments of happy times spent together, days of cuddling in bed, late night adventures, playful bantering with the Waynes, family pranks and their last fight. A feeling of failure suddenly hit her like a train wreck. The dark-haired women couldn’t move, as in the background she saw the faces of those who she cherished  judging her for not fighting harder, mocking her weak attempts of escaping and laughing at her current predicament. What kind of hero does it make Ladybug if she can’t even protect herself? Marinette felt herself shrinking. 

On the other side of the door Damian wasn’t doing any better. He just stared at the doorway, without exhibiting any clear emotion. His face was pale. Was Marinette’s ghost hunting him? But why does it feel so real? Is it really her? He wasn’t able to catch a single clear thought as the reality was crashing into him. What was he supposed to do when someone who he accepted as dead was standing in real flesh and soul right across from him? His body and mind felt hopeless as no answer arose.       

Both of the adults were desperately stuck in their minds until a small and gentle voice  interrupted. As Damian looked down he saw a girl slightly younger than Thomas tugging Marinette’s long sleeves. The resemblance between the two was disturbingly transparent. The young child’s long dark hair was tied into a high ponytail, her blue eyes were glistening with concern as her darker skin complexion was elicited by the setting sun.  

“Mom you ok? Father asked me to come check”

Marinette visibility paled but kept her composure with a soft “I am fine go back inside” 

That short exchange stopped Damian dead in his steps once again. Did he just hear mom and dad come out of the mouth of the girl who looks almost exactly like Marinette? FATHER?! Before his mind was able to spiral down into the deep hole of misery and confusion a new figure stepped into the frame. 

A well dressed, dark haired man with a seemingly gentle smile walked up to the entrance. At his arrival he wrapped his arms around Marinette and kissed her on the cheeks without receiving any response. Marinette stood there lost in thought. Holding up his free hand he announced his presence.   

“Good evening Mr. Wayne its a pleasure meeting my new business partner. I am Andrew Dobronski and this is my wife Mrs. Dobronski.”   

Mr. Dobronski pointing and calling Marinette his wife was the last straw. Damian saw red. He lived through all these years of grieving, all these years of trying to think positively, all these years of telling Thomas that his mother loves him and is watching from heaven just to witness her finding someone else. What kind of stupid game is the universe playing? His wife, his goddamn wife is standing with some stranger wrapped around her ALIVE! Could he still call her his wife, after all it looks like she married again to some richass billionaire. Was the kidnapping just for show? Couldn’t she just tell him off like a normal human being? Damian couldn’t. His emotions were running wild, screaming to escape. Built up rage and the remains of the Lazarus Pit magic were arguing with his soul to be let out. Inside he was fighting to remain in control.

Damian might have won the battle, walked back peacefully and took his time to rethink his feelings like he had learned to do over the past years if it hadn’t been for the slick comment of the billionaire. In the near future he would regret his words. 

“Mr. Wayne is everything alright? I hope that my wife hasn’t offended you while I was busy inside.” 

Something in Damian snapped and everything exploded. Looking directly at Marinette his inner thoughts released in a high range fury.  

Marinette felt the urge to fight back but as she opened her mouth the hands around her tightened. The billionaire's nails dug into her skin as she fought the impulse to grin in pain. There was a clear and silent message: Don’t you dare say anything if you know what's better for you. In return Marinette stared at the rose bush outside, trying and failing to cancel out Damian’s voice. Her inter thoughts kept reminding her that she deserved his wrath after abandoning their son at the mere age of one. 

If Damian was more observant and in full control of his emotions, he might have noticed their interaction and figured out what was happening much earlier.  

They stood there one screaming, one looking away and the other slightly smirking for what felt like hours.

--------- 

In a venom filled voice Damian stated, “I am done here. Good night.” 

As Damian was walking away, he came to an abrupt stop when Mr. Dobronski called out. Looking back he saw the billionaire approaching him leaving behind a stunned Marinette. 

“Now that you have taken care of your personal business can we discuss the business accept of your trip. This partnership is especially important for the International Wayne Industry.” 

Damian stared dumbfounded. This guy really thinks that I care right now. I want to get out of here.

“I have some errands to run… You can contact one of my brothers to fill in my spot.” 

“Very well.” 

---------

Leaning back on the door, Marinette closed her eyes and shrugged into herself as she was trying to hold back the tears that were about to spill. ‘Hold it in, you already did it so many times. Keep it up. Don’t show a sign of weakness, don’t allow him to win.’ She kept repeating the rehearsed speech to herself while trying to calm down.

Pushing all her emotions aside she reluctantly looked up just to be directly facing a smirking billionaire.  

“You invited him on purpose” 

“So I see you liked my surprise. How it is like losing the last person you cared about, someone who was supposed to love you till the end.” 

Marinette deflated with that punch to her heart but picked herself up quickly. Stepping aside she started moving away from the older man and suddenly felt a strong force pushing her back. He grabbed her hands, slammed her body on the rigid wall and held her hands above her head. 

“Now listen to me little lady. Under my roof you are going to look at me when I speak and wait until I give you permission to walk away. Do I make myself clear” Receiving a small node he continued, “I hope that after Mr. Wayne’s lovely speech which might I add had gone a hundred times better than expected, you will get your head out of the gutter. Now I thought you had plans for later tonight, better start getting everything ready.”       

Rubbing her left wrist Marinette followed him deeper into the mansion.   

Its better not to get Damian or his family involved in this. Just let it go Marinette, its for the best. There's no say what Andrew and the rest would do to them.

--------- 

Sorry not sorry. In the plot’s defense, Damian had a lot of built up emotions and was in big shock. The kiss and word wife triggered it all to explode. And Marinette isn’t in the best headspace right now. 

Damian had a chance to split his heart out, so now it's only fair that Marinette has the same. It's been awhile since she was able to yell at someone. (Possible next chapter spoiler).  

Tag List:

@urbanpineapplefarmer @18-fandoms-unite-08 @clumsy-owl-4178 @rebecarojas07 @jardimazul @noirdots @corabeth11 @dragonflyswing @mooshoon @slytherin-batbitch @sturchling @nataladriana9 @queenmj10

#finals been tough #i just made myself sad #maribat #daminette #marinette x damian

[ivy-stjames]

the winner takes it all ( ivy + rory + julien )

𝚆𝙷𝙾:  @julien-schuester && @roryslade​ && @ivystjamess​ 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽:  the evening of thursday, august the sixth 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴:  choir room, william mckinley high school for the performing arts 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃: ivy is uncharacteristically nervous for opening night, like always, julien is there for her, but this time rory’s just around the corner. 

POSSIBLE TWS: CHEATING

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:   Opening Night snuck up on the cast and crew of McKinley High’s production of Mamma Mia faster than any of them could say “here we go again.” With a trip to New York and Los Angeles freshly under their belts, everyone arrived back to Lima feeling reinvigorated and inspired. The show was going to be great. As Julien sat in the make-up chair getting his face patted and his hair styled to transform fully into Sky, he glanced around at his cast mates through the mirror in front of him. He saw Rory, beaming, with LJ and Ruby. There was Joey. Baby. Even Leo and Finn were in his line of sight. It didn’t take him long to clock that Ivy was nowhere to be found. Hm. Weird. Ever since Julien had gone to Ivy’s place on Monday, the energy between them had been extra charged. It wasn’t lost on him that had Eli St. James not burst into Ivy’s room, they would’ve likely crossed another line that would’ve made this little thing they were doing unforgivable. Truth be told, it was already unforgivable, but Julien had found a way to justify in his head that as long as they’d only kissed and nothing more, it wasn’t as bad as what he did  to Emory…so maybe it wasn’t that bad at all. Julien still had yet to figure out what to do about Rory. He still hadn’t made up his mind. Whenever he was with Ivy, he felt like they made sense. But whenever he was with Rory…well, he felt like they made sense. He knew time was ticking and that he’d have to pick a lane at some point, but with opening night being under one hour away, his love triangle fiasco would simply have to wait. Julien smiled at the sophomore who had been fixing his hair when she finished, said thanks, and made his way over to Rory. Where the hell was Ivy? Almost on cue, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out just as he reached his girlfriend, giving her a quick kiss on the side of the head as he discreetly read the message from Ivy. can u come to the choir room asap? He had to think fast. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” he said to Rory, giving her a quick kiss as he tucked his phone into his pocket and exited the backstage area where the cast was congregating. Once Julien was in the hallway and out of everyone’s sight, he started sprinting past the lockers until he arrived at the room he was looking for. “Hey,” he said breathlessly, his chest moving up and down dramatically as his eyes landed on a Sophie-clad Ivy, “everything okay?” Julien’s demeanor changed from cheery to concerned in a matter of seconds once it registered that something was wrong. He gently shut the door behind him before he approached her with open arms, “what’s wrong?”

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  IVY ST.JAMES HAD NERVES OF STEEL. this was a fact the same as the earth revolving around the sun or a cheerios uniform instantly making someone more desirable, so why she was so nervous come opening night was lost on her. she was prepared and well practiced, so why did she feel like running into dan’s office and spilling her guts in the trash bin? being sophie sheridan meant more to her than probably anyone at mckinley would ever understand. sure, she got leads upon leads and solos upon solos, but this was a part ivy had cherished since childhood. despite all the drama in her personal life, her experience throughout this production of mamma mia sort of felt like her real coming of age and not her bat mitzvah four years prior. usually ivy kept a pretty tight lock on her headspace during show nights, no negative thoughts coming in, nothing got through that could potentially throw her off her game. unfortunately, never had she been involved in a show before where her ex-boyfriend, the girl her ex-boyfriend was seemingly moving on to, julien, and the girl julien was cheating on were all lingering backstage. every turn she feared running into something that would send her spiraling. more nervous about becoming nervous, she stowed away in the choir room where she remained pacing. why was she getting so nervous? how was she getting so nervous? eventually, she came to grips with the fact that there was no calming herself down from this one. pulling out her phone, she sent a text to julien and prayed he wasn’t occupied with anything else. lucky for ivy, julien made his appearance at just the right moment, which, seemed to be happening a lot lately. it was pathetic really, the moment julien opened up his arms ivy moved directly into them. she placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes. the fact his embrace so quickly soothed her made her feel stupid for even summoning him in the first place, “hey. . .” she finally replied. eyes still closed, she began issuing the explanation julien was owed, “i just like. . . i don’t know, it’s so totally dumb. . .” she prefaced before opening her eyes, pressing flush against him, and looking upwards at him. again, her breath caught in her throat simply from the sight of him at this perspective. as much as she wanted to wrap her arms up around his neck, ivy instead pulled away and settled for smoothing out the part of shirt she had just crumpled with her head. “i’m just like. . . kind of nervous i guess. i don’t know if i can like be around leo and rory and your sister and like still be me and do good with sophie i guess.” she rambled, once again meeting julien’s gaze with a slight pout, “don’t make fun of me.”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  Julien smiled to himself when Ivy clicked into his arms like the final piece of a puzzle. For two people who used to annoy the crap out of each other, they were surprisingly good at comforting each other in a crisis. It wasn’t even intentional half the time. Julien’s instincts were simply compatible with Ivy’s needs and vise versa. Who would’ve thought? Once his heavy breathing finally regulated after his brief sprint to the choir room, he tightened his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m sure it’s not dumb,” he said earnestly, pulling back slightly when he felt her looking up at him. For a moment, as they stared at each other, there was no drama, no opening night, no obstacles—just them. The illusion of that fantasy land barely lasted because in no time, Ivy was pulling away and smoothing out his shirt. Julien’s hands settled loosely at her waist as he looked down at the spot on his chest that she was touching and then back up to her face. Once Ivy got to talking, he knew that she was valid. It was a really intense situation from all angles, but definitely the most intense for her. Of course she felt nervous. It made sense. The longer she spoke for though, the more his subtle smile grew. “Wow, Ivy. St. James is nervous?” he commented in feigned shock, chuckling softly as he found her eyes again, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous. Well, at least not because of a performance. It’s kinda cute.” Julien was being a little too bold for someone whose girlfriend was a couple of hallways away, but clearly that was the furthest thing from his mind. His sole focus was making Ivy feel better and confident that she could go out there and deliver. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he quickly cut in, smiling down at her dreamily as she pouted, “I’m not making fun.” He took a deep breath and moved his hands to her shoulders as he leveled with her and held her gaze. “Listen to me,” he started, giving her a squeeze, “I know things are complicated and messy right now. I know you’ve had a really hard few weeks. But for two hours tonight, you get to be someone else. You get to use everything you’re feeling and be the best Sophie Sheridan this town has ever seen. If anyone can do it, it’s you. So all that other stuff,” he used one hand to figuratively wave it away, “just leave it at the door. You can do this, Ivy. You’re the most talented person I know. And even if you went out there and messed up, you’d still be the star.”

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  IVY WASN’T SURE WHAT GOT HER HEART BEATING FASTER, JULIEN’S HANDS ON HER WAIST OR THE RAPIDLY ACCUMULATING BUNDLE OF NERVES SETTLING AT THE BOTTOM OF HER STOMACH. at his comments about her looking cute, ivy rolled her eyes, though there was an ever so faint smile gracing her lips, “okay, like, how is that not making fun of me? i know i’m cute, but being all like totally insecure is not cute.” she questioned, tilting her head slightly to the side, but never breaking her gaze from his own.  truth be told, his following words were hardly a necessity. his presence alone worked miracles to soothe her. while her bubbling anxiety lingered, it felt dulled, numb even. if julien was at her side, what did she have to fear? nothing?. . . exactly. it wasn’t often the two of them just got to be alone and while logically she knew ’bad’ things happened when they were left unsupervised, the invigoration it gave her was worth it. ivy couldn’t explain the seemingly magical way reality seemed to melt and leave her and julien clutching each other in it’s wake, but the comfort that came from each of their stolen moments was the best medicine to life’s problems. as his pep talk drew to a close, ivy found herself fully smiling. each of her worries had been fended off by her knight in. . . a button down and shorts, equipped with his toolbox of all the right things to say. she would’ve managed if he hadn’t taken that next step, gone above and beyond, but he had and it left both her heart and knees feeling weak. “thank you.” she whispered. though she didn’t say a lot, it could be seen very clearly that she was thinking about saying. . . or doing more. there was an odd moment of clarity where ivy felt more certain of her feelings towards julien than she had felt about anything as of late. it was certainty beyond a charged exchange in her bedroom monday night or needing companionship. at least she thought it was certainty, but just to be sure. . . “julien, i need to like check something.” ivy said quietly. before he had the chance to ask questions or to stop her, her hands were around his collar, tugging him down to bring their lips into each others. it was another kiss to add to their ever-growing pile of oopsies, but what other way to get confirmation that this. . . thing they had going did indeed mean something.in the world they had been living in moments at a time, the one away from reality and away from namely rory, it seemed like the perfectly logical thing to do. again, ivy found her thoughts fogging over with a desire to kiss julien, to be near him. would that urge be so strong if it meant nothing? her clouded mind couldn’t confirm or deny more than she had when she initiated the kiss, but ivy figured she wouldn’t want to kiss him so badly all the time if they really were just friends. julien was always there, picking her up, sharing laughs, stealing glances, putting all the pieces together, and causing her to come undone all at once. without considering julien had a girlfriend and without considering the fact ivy hadn’t fully processed what had gone down with leo and overcome it, it added up. ivy wanted it to add up, she needed it to be this simple. there was a seed planted in her heart and ivy was choosing now to command it to be full grown. pulling away, ivy remained near, scanning julien’s face for some kind of reaction, any indicator that he had a similar realization. “julien. . .” she said again, letting out a breath before finally replying to julien’s own comment from a week ago in a los angeles stairwell, “it means something.”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  Julien came from a long line of pep-talkers, so whether it was right before a big show choir competition or in the final ten minutes of a state championship, he knew a thing or two about the right thing to say and how to say it. So when he came face to face with an uncharacteristically insecure Ivy, he knew what he needed to do. He  needed to remind her that no matter how crappy her circumstances were in the moment, she was talented and capable. No amount of drama or complicated entanglements would keep her from doing what she did best: shining. In the confines of the choir room, just the two of them, Julien never broke eye contact and kept his hands planted on her shoulders as he gave her an abridged version of all the ways she was incredible. When he was done gassing her up, he studied her face for any sign that he’d remedied her worries. The smile tugging at the corners of her lips indicated to him that he’d done a decent job. “No need to thanks me, Legs,” he said softly, mirroring her grin as he gave her shoulders a final squeeze before dropping his hands, “I’m just being honest.” As they stood there, shamelessly indulging in their very bad and unsubtle habit of staring at each other dreamily for way too many seconds at a time, Julien was at war with his own thoughts. What were they doing? Why was he here with her instead of with his girlfriend backstage? His overthinking was interrupted by the sound of Ivy’s voice. “Huh?” he asked quickly, snapping back to reality, “check what?” Before he could even finish his question, she was pulling him down by his shirt collar until his lips crashed into hers. Suddenly all of his thoughts quieted—all of them but one: Julien Schuester wanted Ivy St. James. Yes, in a primal physical way, but also in a fall asleep on the couch together way and a hold hands in the car way and a sing each other to sleep way. He was so screwed. Once she broke the kiss, his eyes fluttered open slowly and he looked down at her in complete awe. His breath hitched when she said his name and when she finally answered his drunken statement from nearly a week prior, he nodded. “I know.” Instinct took over as soon as their feelings were out in the open. Julien cupped the sides of Ivy’s face and brought his lips down to hers again, wanting desperately to be closer. The kiss was urgent and clumsy and before he knew it he was backing Ivy into the grand piano in the center of the room. The sound of her body hitting the keys sent a loud clash of cords through the room which shocked Julien right out of the moment. He pulled away from her breathlessly, his hands lingering on her face for a moment until he saw some movement at the door from the corner of his eye. The second he turned his head, his face got hot and his ears began to ring. “Rory,” he breathed out, dropping his hands and his heart as he laid his eyes on his beautiful, kind, talented, funny, deserving-of-only-good-things girlfriend. How long had she been there for? What had she seen? “Rory,” he said again, cautiously walking towards her as all thoughts about wanting Ivy were exiled from his brain, “it’s not what you think.”

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘:  Nothing would have prepared Rory Slade for today. At the beginning of auditions, she only saw herself as Sophie and was convinced she would land the role, but she didn’t. Then she fully stepped into the role of Donna and felt confident in herself and that if someone was meant to play Donna at McKinley, it was Rory. She was nervous, sure, and she felt like she could hear her heart beating so loudly in her ears. Rory tried not to get herself too hyped up, she always thought it was bad luck to practice before going on. Weird logic, but she thought that if she performed now, she’d forget later or work herself so much up on stage that she’d freak out and dash off stage. After getting into costume which was just a white peasant blouse and overalls, she fixed her own hair and makeup, leaving her makeup natural but beat enough that the audience could see she had makeup on and a pinned look paired with some beach waves to give off an effortless beach look. After she was done, she spent her time with Julien until he abruptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. She didn’t think anything of it, he was just going to be gone for a minute, but then two minutes passed. Then five. Then ten. And as minute twelve was approaching, Rory knew she had to go on a man hunt for Julien. The show was about to start and neither him nor Ivy was anywhere to be found so she went to look for Julien and hoped to just find Ivy after. She looked in the girls restroom for Ivy and briefly popped her head in the boys to ask if Julien was in there. When neither were found, she started looking in other rooms, eventually landing in the ill fated choir room. They were kissing. Julien and Ivy were kissing. Julien, her boyfriend, was kissing Ivy, her rival. The blonde didn’t know how to react; should she scream? Cry? Even react at all? Or just leave the building altogether and tell Leo that she couldn’t perform? Lost in her thoughts, staring at the scene, Julien finally noticed her. She had only been standing there for thirty seconds, a minute tops, but she felt like she had spent her entire life watching the pair kiss. She heard Julien saying her name, but it was just echoing in her head and once he started making his way towards her, she bolted out of the room and out into the hallway, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ll mess up your makeup. But then Julien began speaking. “Not what I think?” Her words weren’t angry, they were strangely calm for a girl who had just caught her boyfriend in the act with someone else, but with the freshly hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes piercing into Julien’s, she didn’t need to express emotion for him to know how hurt she felt. “People have been saying that you were cheating on me and now look! I’m the one who gets to look like a fool for trusting you,” now her emotions were building up. “God!” she expressed, her hands flailing up. “I trusted you!”

𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍:  The wave of peace that Julien briefly experienced while kissing Ivy quickly turned into a storm when he saw Rory. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Rory, wait—“ he called out, quickly jogging after her but pausing at the door of the choir room. Julien was the rope in a twisted game of tug-of-war and the worst thing was? He put himself in that position. His face was hot with shame and embarrassment. How could he have been so stupid? He and Ivy were living in a fantasy land. And why had he even been doing it in the first place? Because he liked Rory, he really liked her. He turned his head to look back at Ivy, who was still standing flabbergasted at the piano. Even though there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to meet her back at the piano and kiss her again, there was a girl out in the hallway who he’d just hurt beyond belief. What kind of guy would he be if he just let her leave? “I’m—“ he wanted to say something, anything to make the situation okay, but he was at a loss, “fuck, sorry.” He barely looked at Ivy when he apologized but once the words fell from his lips, he left her standing there alone and zoomed into the hallway where he stopped Rory in her tracks. “It really isn’t what you think,” he lied, scrambling to come up with a valid excuse or reason for why he would be kissing Ivy in the choir room. He knew he was shit out of luck. There was nothing he could say. When Rory’s eyes filled with tears and she revealed that people had been warning her, Julien was riddled with guilt. Fuck. Why was he like this? It was all fun and games until someone got hurt. He needed to fix this. “You’re not a fool,” he told her as he approached her slowly, “okay? I am. I’m an idiot. I’m—I’m stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”As she started to wave her arms around and get angry, Julien tightened his lips into a line and felt all of his muscles tense. Her words echoed through the empty hallway and he knew there was nothing he could say in the moment that would make the situation better. “Rory, please,” he started, eyes pleading and tone strained. There had to be something he could say to make things better. The words spilled out of him before he could really process it, “I love you.” On cue, his phone alarm went off in his pocket and startled him. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling it out and seeing that they had five minutes until the show started, “we have to get back.” He looked at Rory, completely focused on her and entirely unaware of anything that might’ve been happening behind him. It dawned on him that he had just said he loved her. Did he love her? Had he just said that because it felt like the right thing to say? He was so confused. “I know you’re mad, but can we just do the show and then talk about it? Please?”

𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘:  Watching Julien and Ivy kiss in a romantic way instead of practicing for the musical way made Rory's heart sink and naturally so. No one wants to see their boyfriend kiss someone else like that especially when that boyfriend had a history and everyone had been warning her about the said history, but she thought things were different. Rory had been through this before. Not when it came to Julien and when that did happen, she was the "other girl". It's why she kept her relationships minimal and sexual encounters at a maximum. She couldn't get hurt if she didn't open up to guys, but it was also her weakness. A guy could just flash her a smile and tell her she was remotely attractive and she'd be weak in her knees. Maybe it was the daddy issues or the deep insecurity she held as the second-best at McKinley. And now she really was second best to Ivy St. James in every aspect. Julien was the one thing Rory had that Ivy didn't and now... even the Wicked Witch of Lima had that. She wrapped her arms around her body as if to calm herself down even just a bit but what she had seen in the choir room just kept replaying in her head every time she closed her eyes. She felt so stupid. So stupid for trusting Julien. So stupid for believing he changed. So stupid for falling in love with his stupid dorky smile. And that's when it dawned on her. She was so hurt not only because she believed in him but because she had fallen in love with Julien Schuester and in the same moment she recognized how much she loved him, he had simultaneously broken her heart at the same time. "Isn't what I think?" A scoff left her mouth. "That wasn't a practice kiss, okay? I know what you look like when you have one of those... charged choir room moments," because he had looked at her like that at one point. When Julien started to approach her slowly, she backed away a few steps. She didn't want his semi-comforting words or for him to step closer to her, she wanted to forget what she had seen. No wonder why Emory wanted to beat his car in and break Ivy's nose. This feeling sucked. The tightening in her throat, the tears, her heart beating out of her chest. She felt like someone had quite literally stomped on her heart, but when he uttered those three words Rory almost saw the light at the end of the tunnel which would have been comforting if Julien wasn't cheating on her. "Yeah... I love you too," she said barely above a whisper, using the back of her sleeve to wipe some tears off her face. There was a small foundation stain, but it wasn't a priority of Rory's at the moment. When she heard Julien's alarm ring, she knew it was almost time for the show to start so she quickly sucked up whatever she was feeling and dabbed away her tears. "Maybe," she shrugged. "I don't think there's much more to talk about," she said with a deep sigh. "Break a leg, I guess," she croaked out as she tried to hold in any emotion. Save it for the stage. Turning on her heel, she started walking back to the auditorium to get ready to go on.

𝐈𝐕𝐘:  THE FANTASY WORLD THAT RESIDED WITHIN JULIEN SCHUESTER’S LIPS CAME TUMBLING DOWN AT THE SOUND OF A FEW DISCORDANT PIANO KEYS, FOLLOWED BY A SOFT ‘RORY’ THEN A FRANTIC ‘IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK’. ivy’s ejection from that little piece of paradise was violent. other than having to make a quick acclimation to this new and tense situation, she had to shove all of eli’s, now proven to be correct, comments from her mind so she could focus on what to do. last time when emory had caught her and julien, ivy had peeled from the scene as quickly as she could, but that wasn’t really much of an option on opening night of a show in which all parties involved played principal roles. faster than they had been caught, rory was running out the door and julien was going after her while ivy remained stunned at the piano, painfully aware of how she had nowhere left to run. both herself and julien should have known better than to walk this fraying tight rope together at this point. they both knew it was a hazard, there was no safety net below them, and one misstep would send them plummeting to the hard surface that was the consequences of their actions. julien paused in the doorway, looking ivy up and down and filling her with the dangerous hope that he may stay with her. as soon as the apology slipped from julien, he was gone, and ivy found herself now knowing what to do. follow him. her feet carried her to the doorway where if she looked just to the left she could see rory and julien, even hear their voices echoing down the hallway to where she was. she was still functioning in a trance like stuporous state. she wanted to run down the hallway and after julien, but her feet told her the threshold of the choir room door was far enough. hearing rory choked up was enough to make anyone feel bad, ivy included. ashamed , she looked down upon her sandaled feet. as much as she tried to assure herself rory would come out of this fine and it was just a small incident that could be brushed off, the longer she eavesdropped the less confident in that she grew. though ivy’s largest emotional reaction came from hearing the words i and love and you leave julien’s mouth and into rory’s ears.it was like a large wound in her chest opened up and immediately caused her lip to quiver. it wasn’t a new gash though, it was about a year old at this point, and while it had been closed for some time, julien had just as easily reopened it as he had sliced it a little over a year ago. suddenly rory and julien’s conversation was muted in her ears and it felt like all she could hear was her own heart heaving in pain with each beat it thumped. what had happened to ten minutes ago when julien was in fact confirming that did mean something? was she just a toy for him to play with when he got lonely and bored? ivy couldn’t find it in herself to believe julien was capable of that malice, she didn’t want to. unable to wipe her tears fast enough, ivy bolted out of the choir room, to the right, and into the bathroom all while a faint jingle of someone’s alarm could be heard at the other end of the hallway. instantly, she locked herself in a stall and tried to rid herself of this used feeling. julien loved rory, and it seemed that ivy's own moments with him the past couple of weeks had meant nothing. julien had lied, and that only made her cry harder. the show was the last thing on her mind at the moment, just herself, the bathroom stall, trying to halt her tears and the dejected feeling that came with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and foolishness.

END

#julien #rory #tw: cheating #discord para #the winner takes it all #//when taylor swift said chase two girls lose the one she was actually prophesizing this moment

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Slow the Tempo (back to basics)

Day 2, and I kind of just decided that the soulmate au is going to to be my theme of the week, just kind of exploring different times during their relationship within this universe.

If Brian weren’t so tired, he’d be angry. Shaking and loud. Everything bursting out at the seams enough that it would give even Roger, the bravest boundary pusher of them, pause. But instead, he’s exhausted. It’s not even the kind that a good soak and tea could fix or the coming end of the tour.

The end of the tour means too many things that he can’t think about. He can’t think, really. His mind keeps compounding his exhaustion over his anger until it’s this buzzing exhaustion. For once the exhaustion beats down twin rhythms and the too-familiar allegro.

It’s bliss. To finally have his head to himself for the first time in his life. Especially now when the rhythms are practically indistinguishable but doubling in volume. The allegro gets too hyped up and he just knows what’s being passed around the party that he’s too exhausted to attend.

When is the last time Brian May has been spotted at an after-party anyway? The tabloids certainly haven’t missed his absence. Spinning stories about a string of nonexistent lovers or that he has a heroin problem. He removes the arm covering his face and stares up at the popcorn ceiling of the hotel they’re staying in.

The only side of the bed that’s warm is his, but he’s been there since he woke up this morning. And do they have a show tonight? Or are they on a two-day break?

Someone will find him if they need his guitar.

Not him. No one really needs Brian May, just someone who knows how to play his guitar. The end of this tour, Knebworth, can’t come soon enough. They decided that this might be their last tour, a long break at the very least. John wants to see what his options are for getting a kid, and Roger seems entirely thrilled with the idea. Freddie has some grand idea for a solo project once he comes back fully from his health scare.

Not that he is involving Brian in the idea. Brian found it out through a press release discussing new album plans. That’s fine. Freddie is busy and tends to overlook things. It makes sense that Brian would eventually be one of those things.

They’ve had a better run than anyone thought they would.

It’s on that spiral, thoughts repeating and growing worse with each pass, that Freddie barges into the room. Even from here Brian can smell the booze wafting from him. They must be on their two-day break, is it Saturday or Sunday then?

“Brimi,” Freddie flops down onto the bed, clearly intoxicated.

Brian doesn’t have the energy to grimace. What does it matter? They’ve had that fight so often now. Even after the scare – that Freddie promised he’d cut back only after the tour. At least the drugs have stopped.

“Brimi,” Freddie says a little more urgently.

He doesn’t turn from the wall.

“Bri,” Freddie is shaking his shoulder.

It’s clumsy and it hurts. Brian still doesn’t turn over, that simple action so much effort.

“Brian,” Freddie’s voice wavers, “I can’t hear you.”

He hasn’t said anything. Brian closes his eyes.

“Why can’t I hear you?” Freddie whispers.

With coordination that Brian is genuinely surprised that Freddie has in his state, he is pulled over. He doesn’t fight it, his limp body harder to maneuver, but eventually Freddie gets him into a suitable position for whatever it is that he wants to do.

Probably rip Brian’s heart out. The hole is already there.

“Brian I can’t hear you,” Freddie says a little more urgently.

“Your melody, I can’t – it isn’t there. Brian, why isn’t it there?”

Oh. A hundred different reasons scroll through his head. He suspects it’s because he can’t hear the others. Had he somehow been cut out by them? Cut himself out? Then his mind blanks again and he decides that it really doesn’t matter if Queen is over.

He flicks his eyes up to Freddie’s. They’re puffy and unfocused from drink, but more alarmingly, Freddie looks like he’s about to break. Brian finds that’s not fair. He feels like he has shattered but no one said anything before that.

Freddie lays down next to him. He can feel gentle prods against their private headspace. There isn’t any music anymore.

“Brian, please, talk to me.”

I thought we had something special.

He remembers stumbling over his words the first time he saw Freddie, young and underdressed and too perfect. This Freddie now, he’s different. Older and overdressed and Brian’s found his flaws, but he loves him deeper. Better.

His head remembers it, on a surface level. Like how he knows how far the moon is from the earth and the average velocity of a rocket leaving the atmosphere. A fact. He loves Freddie. He doesn’t feel that love.

Is that why he can’t hear anyone anymore?

Hands touch his face. Just pressure and no movement. The warmth seeps into his chilled skin. Oh right. He noticed it was cold earlier, but that would mean he has to climb under the covers when he could just ball up. Freddie hums something, Brian is too tired to identify it. It’s one of their songs, which doesn’t narrow it down any.

“I wish I could hear you,” Freddie says after a moment, “then I might figure out what you’re feeling. I could help you.”

Brian thinks about all the times that Freddie had walked out to party or socialize each night leaving Brian alone in a darkened hotel room. Granted, he told Freddie he was fine and to go enjoy himself with a quiet song in their head. But Freddie should have known something was wrong with him.

A small part of his brain, that sounds like John tells him that isn’t fair to put everything on Freddie. Brian glances at Freddie, aware of the distance for the first time in their life. He’s never looked at Freddie and not have some idea about what he’s feeling. Brian hates it. It confirms every worse thought he’s had today.

Sobbing is almost a relief. He’s feeling something. Nasty, sickening emotions, but it’s something. Freddie leans back for a second before manhandling Brian into his lap. His hand cards through Brian’s hair, warm and gentle. He avoids tugging on any of the tangles that have built up despite his inactivity.

He shakes and sobs. But he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, just that he’s crying and it’s something. His hands bring Freddie closer by tugging on his sweat-soiled shirt.

“Let it out my love,” Freddie coos.

Brian buries his head in Freddie’s shoulder.

“You’ll feel better after a good cry, hm?”

He probably cries for an hour. Tears stop coming, his body too dehydrated but he still gasps and sobs. His body shakes like his emotions are trying to vibrate out of him. Brian doesn’t know what he should feel. There isn’t just one thing to feel, but there’s too much to fee so he shut down.

“There you go, dove.”

Brian falls limp against Freddie’s chest. Words bubble up to his mouth and for a second he fights them, before the fight bleeds out of him, mixing with the tears and sweat cooling on his body.

“It’s bad,” Brian says.

“Okay,” Freddie rubs Brian’s back, “that’s okay.”

He wants to argue that it isn’t he’s a grown man, he shouldn’t’ be knocked down by not feeling anything.

“We have one last show, can you play?”

That’s what he’s supposed to do. He is the guitarist. One last show doesn’t seem like too much. It seems like it’s impossible. How is he supposed to go on stage for two hours when he can barely force himself to eat? How can he not go on stage for two hours when it’s all he’s done his entire life.

Brian nods instead. He’ll play. That’s easy.

It’s so hard.

“One more show, dove,” Freddie kisses his forehead, “and then we’ll go home and get this sorted, okay?”

He doesn’t respond but instead falls asleep curled up in Freddie’s lap.

When he wakes up there are two other forms in the bed. Roger is wrapped tightly around his waist, almost like he doesn’t want to let go. His lips are pressed together in a line Brian can read as fear. John is sprawled across both Roger and his legs. Obviously for some time judging by the tingling in his feet.

John catches his eyes. Brian stares unsure of what John expects of him. When John frowns he looks away. Freddie’s chest is rising and lowering below him, so he’s asleep. Their melodies are still muffled by heavy exhaustion and numbness, but he feels that they’re there.

It’s morning and they’re waking up together. Brian doesn’t see a way out of this darkness, but he wants to. He wants to get to the point where he can fill his day with private songs their fans will never hear. That maybe he can get back to that place where Freddie can still pick out his melody however faint.

At least that’s what he hopes.

#maycury week #maycury #frian #Harmony AU #since I want to write for that week anyway #and these aren't as long as my usual pieces #but since this is a challenge week #it's quantity lol

[taggedmemes]

 SENTENCE MEME ⟶ SINGLE PARENTS / 1.09 – 1.10 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

“I don’t think I have to tel you who the losers are.”

“I’ve never been part of the cool clique, or any clique, really.”

“They think we’re weird because we’re single.”

“They’re just jealous because they want to sleep int he middle of their beds spread out like a starfish.”

“Suck it marrieds! ..it would be nice to be in love, though.”

“You’re gonna think you died and went to heaven.”

“You can’t just accuse an innocent man.”

“I’m not as good a person as you.”

“You haven’t done a single thing wrong the whole time I’ve known you.”

“You’re like the Dalai Lama with longer hair.”

“God, I love exploiting a person in need.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to host this wack-ass party.”

“Big plans are afoot this evening.”

“Well, that’s not shady.”

“Please don’t make me talk to them.”

“I can’t go in there. They’ll eat me alive.”

“These are just normal people trying to enjoy an evening without kids.”

“I think this is a terrible plan.”

“He’s not a person. He’s a backstabbing turd.”

“I hate to break it to you.”

“At least you have better taste in clothes than you do in friends.”

“Wait. Are you hilarious?”

“He’s not here, probably too ashamed to show his face.”

“Wait, he’s here. How dare he show his face!”

“Eyeballs don’t have secrets. Eyeballs are supposed to be loyal to the brain.”

“Unless you were lying last week, I’m your favorite person to nap next to.”

“There’s still one question that haunts me.”

“Now that I’m divorced, my life’s my own again.”

“Somehow I woke up at a bus stop. I don’t know how I got there, but I’m assuming by bus.”

“He thinks I’m a saint and I love it. It means I get to yell at him about all the things he does wrong.”

“Yelling at him is one of my favorite things to do.”

“I do not want to go back to life coaching.”

“I hate him so much.”

“That’s just one of the many treasures I have amassed.”

“Alexa, set the temperature to 90 degrees.”

“Are you dressed like a phone?”

“By the amount of apologizing happening, that’s definitely [name].”

“Before you go out there, I have to tell you something.”

“Now it’s time to get a little serious.”

“It’s not really my field of expertise.”

“He might be a dork, but dorks are just people who care a lot.”

“Maybe we’re losers, but I’d rather be one of us than one of you.”

“I am so sick of everyone siding with [name]!”

“It made me feel important because it made me feel like you.”

“I know I’ve given up the moral high ground.”

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“If I’m gonna be honest, I kind of respect you more.”

“How did I ruin it? I was just expressing my affection.”

“It’s weird to see Santa outside.”

“I cannot support your Santa fetish.”

“Tonight is about sadness.”

“Something happened that sent me into a real spiral.”

“I don’t mean to ruin anything for you, but Santa isn’t real.”

“That fights everything true I know about you.”

“Does he actually still believe in Santa? He’s an adult!”

“You’ve made the naughty list.”

“This is horrible for literally everyone else but not for me.”

“I hope you’re home, there’s a lot of candles burning.’

“I never did cry, but the potential was there.”

“I’m not in the right emotional headspace for a holiday tradition.”

“Festive gathering of loving families kicking the dirt out of each other.”

“So you turned Jesus’ birthday into the Olympics?”

“You are my only chance at a Christmas miracle.”

“Let’s ransack my house!”

“Getting someone the perfect gift is the best and only way to say, ‘I get you, man. You’re loved and cherished’.”

“The trick to surviving the holidays is just distract yourself from your own emotions.”

“Some people like to mope in front of a fire. I like to step on throats.”

“Where you were headed earlier? That was not a good place.”

“You tricked me! I’m not going to forget this.”

“Do you wanna spend Christmas in the hospital?”

“Why do you fight with the dentist?”

“You know what’s weird? Not giving your boyfriend a Christmas gift.”

“I think you’re right. I have to go break up with him.”

“And that’s how you win Christmas, you dirtbags!”

“You’re the only one with enough speed to catch the goose!”

“Doesn’t there have to be some grey area between naughty and nice?”

“Does being alive for as long as you have ever feel like a curse?”

“He’s not a fan of yes or no answers. He wants details.”

“I never doubted you for a second.”

“I guess we can add ‘meeting sexy Santa’ to the list of things he’ll eventually tell his therapist.”

“I had to get you something that showed how much I liked you without it spooking you and that gift does not exist.”

“I’m rusty at this. But, will you be my boyfriend?”

“I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t want to be here.”

“I’m not gonna try to talk you out of being sad.”

“So this is what it’s like when you’re not distracting yourself from your feelings.”

“Welcome to the dark side.”

“You should apologize for the five voicemails you left me.”

“I knew you weren’t going to take credit for any of the good stuff.”

“You get me, man. I feel cherished.”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #starter sentences #KIND / SENTENCE. #KIND / IN CHARACTER. #BASED ON / TV SHOW.

[electricbluebutterflies]

garcy + 68

Welp, I have a little bit of a thing about these babes doing physical stuff when Lucy is in somewhat compromised headspace (like, totally self-aware and able to make good choices but REALLY NEEDS A DISTRACTION kind of bad headspace). So this is more of that, because I think an emotional crisis counts just as much as a natural disaster, with a not-exactly-established-relationship twist for maximum complications. Obviously NSFW content ahead and also on ao3.

(68) sex in a crisis situation

She’s falling apart. Again.

Lucy used to be composed, a flawless ice sculpture of a woman, but that was before she got used to watching people die. Before she discovered the dark thing in her soul, and before it learned to feed on everything else she is. Before…

Before she had somewhere to land, she thinks as she walks down the hallway. Not the first time she’s taken this solace, and won’t be the last either.

She supposes it was desperation, the first time - desperation and slightly-drunk brilliance and primal desire. Flynn is feral, in a way that his recent improvements at being a person hasn’t changed, and they’ve been like magnets since the beginning. Fucking him, the first time, was an inevitability.

That was six months ago, and it’s been a routine ever since. When she feels bad in ways beyond words, when she wants to go numb, they crash into each other. She doubts it’s love on her side, doubts it ever will be, but it’s trust and a distraction and that’s enough.

She lets herself in, unsurprised he’s still awake - it’s late, yes, but not that late and she’s pretty sure he doesn’t sleep some nights anyways. More questions she doesn’t ask, more things she’d know if she took up his offer of staying but she always leaves right after they collide. The innocent nights, sure, she’ll fall asleep in his bed and sometimes he’ll be beside her when she wakes and sometimes not, but the less innocent…

“What do you want?”

The same question, the same dance they are learning so well. Lucy can’t help but think she’ll be able to sleepwalk through this entire coping mechanism in another few months.

“I need to go numb,” she replies.

It’s not a perfect solution, they both know that. He’s in love with her - hasn’t said as much, but she knows. Feels it as he crosses the space and wraps his arms around her and god, she wishes that falling apart with clothes still on would be enough but it isn’t and-

“What happened?”

“Nothing specific. Just... you’re all I’ve got.”

Imperfect but enough, she tells herself as he kisses her and they begin their spiral. In the past, with other lovers, she has always been scared of what they might take from her. Here, with this man who is more capable of causing pain than anyone else she’s ever looked twice at, she has no such fear. He could, but he won’t. She’s known that from the beginning, known that since-

“Stay with me,” he murmurs as they undress. “Stay with me, Lucy.”

Out of her mind and into her body. He touches her more than he objectively needs to; she knows what his hands feel like on every inch of her skin, and she is grateful that he performs this kindness for her. She cannot possibly be easy to want, not like this, not when she’s using every bit of energy she has to keep from crying, not-

“At least say if something is too much.”

She won’t. She can’t. She is a sacrifice, she is an open wound, she is a tragedy. There is no such thing as too much for the wreck that she has become.

And yet, as they fall onto the bed, there is nothing for her to worry about. Flynn has always seen the best version of her, aware of her flaws but not fixated on them, and it’s easier for her to accept that when there’s an obvious reward. He hovers over her but waits, drags his finger through her slit slow and waits for her to respond, makes sure that she is as responsive as she’s going to get.

She feels dead. He wants her anyways. She’s not sure which of those statements bothers her more.

She nods, and he enters her. Slow, cautious, unwilling to break her. Aware, in his way, of exactly what she wants and needs. He holds her close as he rolls his hips against hers, eyes closed and no doubt envisioning some less complicated scenario. Oh, she takes so much from him. He’d give her the world if she’d let him, but instead she chooses this state of being even though she knows it wounds and-

“Shhhh. Stay with me.”

She won’t get off. She’s not even sure if she wants to. The collision is enough, the way he kisses her is enough, her name breathed against her neck as he crosses is more than enough.

Numb. She is numb. It is enough.

“You should stay,” he murmurs in the aftermath. “I don’t... I don’t want to have to worry about you tonight, Lucy.”

Every cell in her body wants to run, wants to go back to her room and find some way to punish herself for what she has done, but she forces herself to stay right where she is. “You sure?”

“Easier than... yes, I’m sure.”

And maybe she can do this better, maybe falling asleep next to him isn’t the worst thing in the world, maybe they can turn this into what she wants and maybe she can learn to want it too.

But she is so tired, and so done, and she will deal with all of that in the morning. Maybe.

#ebf talks to anons #garcy #ebf writes fic

[ladyfogg]

Big Bad Wolf

Big Bad Wolf

Fic Summary: Sequel to Bathed in Red. It’s a normal Saturday evening in your club when you realize Mucous Membrane is the evening’s band. Torn between going home and staying to face Johnny, you fight your impulse to run away. After all, you do owe him a drink. Constantine Oneshot Masterpost

Fic Rating: NC-17

Fic Song: Big Bad Wolf by Aesthetic Perfection

Pairing: Mucous Membrane John Constantine/Female Reader

Warnings: Smut & Language

It’s been a year and a half since your life exploded, leaving you angry, lost, and alone. Thankfully, your downward, self-destructive spiral didn’t last. After many nights bar hopping, and several one-night stands, you began the slow process of recovery.

Six months ago, you became manager at a local club, and it’s been smooth sailing ever since. You enjoy the normalcy, the stability. Both have been lacking in your life for far too long, and it feels nice to have a job you care about and money in the bank.

Tonight seems like any other. You arrive at the club at eight, heading straight for your office to pick up the setlist for the evening. Your assistant manager handles booking and organizing the talent, which leaves you free to handle more important aspects of your job. Like making sure everyone gets paid.

You sit at your desk, rustling through the mess of papers. Invoices, phone messages, schedules...none of them are what you’re looking for. You like to review the set before you start your shift, so you can rearrange anything, if necessary. You eventually find your assistant’s clipboard in the middle of the pile and lean back in your chair, swirling from side to side as you go down the list.

There’s your DJ of course, and several bands you’ve hired in the past, but when you get to the last name, your heart skips a beat and you jolt upright.

Mucous Membrane

You read it again, and then a third time just to make sure you’re not having some kind of a stroke. Shit. What?! How is that possible?!  

You scramble for the phone, punching in your assistant’s home number and waiting anxiously as it rings.

“Hello?” comes a tired voice.

“It’s me,” you say by way of greeting. “When did you book Mucous Membrane? How did you hear about them?”

“Er...I don’t remember,” your assistant says after a short pause.

You frown. “How can you not remember?” you ask.

“It was a month or so ago,” they respond. “Needed a headliner for the evening.”

“I would hardly call them a headliner,” you snort.

“Well I assumed they were pretty good since you had their lead singer’s business card on your desk,” your assistant says. “I’m sorry, was I wrong? Should I not have booked them?”

Confused, you look down, moving a few papers to the side. You lost John’s business card months ago, so it’s takes you completely surprised to find it lying innocently in the middle of your desk.

“He said you two were old friends,” your assistant continues, clearly trying to dig themselves out of the hole they think they’ve fallen in. “Their manager called me the next day and we set it up. I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt. “It’s fine. No need to apologize. I was just surprised is all. Sorry to bother you on your night off.”

You hang up before they respond, fingers tracing the words on the card. How the hell did that card end up on your desk? You suppose it’s possible you took it out of your pocket and left it there. You did carry it around for some time. But you know you’ve cleaned your desk since its disappearance and you would have seen it for sure.

In any case, the fact of the matter is you thought you’d never see Johnny again, and now he’s going to be in your club in a few short hours. Your first instinct is to bolt. But there’s no one to cover your duties, and after scaring your poor assistant, you don’t want to call them in.

With a heavy sigh, you haul yourself out of your seat. You’re an adult, you can do this. You can face the man you banged backstage and then ditched immediately after. Even though the hope of him not remembering you is out the window after that conversation you just had. Which actually makes you feel a little proud. He remembers you, though you’re not sure how he knew this was your club. It’s not like you told him your name.

Deciding to push those questions aside, you throw yourself into your work.

Normally, the night goes quickly since you’re always so busy. But tonight it doesn’t. Tonight the minutes drag by at a frustratingly slow pace. Every time you’re notified of a band’s arrival, you think it’s John’s. But it’s not, and you realize with surprise that you’re actually looking forward to seeing him.

They don’t show up until a few minutes before their time slot. And when they do, you’re too busy helping behind the bar to greet them. You get so wrapped up in what you’re doing, you miss them getting on stage, until an explosion of loud music, followed a familiar voice, makes you look up.

“Love, adventure, death and glory, the short goodbye, the whispered story…”

You’re struck by how good John looks; almost exactly how you remember him from last year. You almost forgot how hot he is, and you find it difficult to get back to what you were doing. The song continues, the crowd responding somewhat positively, even though the music isn’t usually the kind your regulars are used to.

The additional bartender arrives, so you excuse yourself and slip out from behind the counter. By now the song is winding down, and you maneuver your way through the crowd, getting closer to the stage. He hasn’t noticed you yet, at least, you don’t think he has. You find a spot off to the side, crossing your arms with amusement at the whole situation. The song ends, the crowd actually applauds loudly, and Johnny grins.

“Now this one,” he says. “I wrote after a little fling I had last year. Gorgeous bit, legs for days, and a wicked tongue.”

Instantly your face grows hot as the crowd hoots and hollers. Your first thought is, He can’t be talking about me. But then, Johnny’s eyes find yours suddenly, and he stares you down with a knowing smirk.

He wrote a song for you. You’re doomed.

“You hear me knocking on your heart, if you let me in, I swear I won’t tear your apart love, oh no,” Johnny sings. “You hear that beating of my heart, alone in my own skin, and to be myself, with someone else, never turned out well, but I’m comin’. I smell your blood from far away, you’ve lost because, I’ve got your scent I’m on the hunt, there’s nowhere to run, ‘cause I’m comin’…”

Dear god, it’s suddenly ten times hotter in here. Many thoughts race through your mind, and you find yourself wondering if he’s been looking for you this whole time. Was he pissed when he got off stage last year and found you were gone? Was he disappointed?

Johnny hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and you swear if he asked you to strip right there, you’d not only do as he says but also bang him right on the floor. So much for being a mature adult about this.

The rest of the band sings the next part, but Johnny doesn’t break eye contact with you.

“My lover what have you become? Why must you look at me that way?”

Is that supposed to be you speaking to him? Sort of sounds like it. Fuck, his eyes are so intense. His intention with you couldn’t be any clearer.

“Because my dear you look so good,” Johnny sings. “You’re good enough to eat. I’ll never let you go, once I have sunk my teeth into you.”

Memories of your night together come flooding back in a haze. Johnny banging you against the wall, your teeth sinking into his neck, his loud noises as he came, spasming against you.

“I hear the trembling of your voice, don’t be a afraid,” This is a seduction. He wrote this song to seduce you, and you hate yourself that it’s actually working. “I’m not as vicious as the tomes say, I’m just hungry.”

This time when the band sings backup, you can’t help but move closer to the stage, mouthing along with the words. “My lover what have you become? Why must you look at me that way?”

Johnny smirks. He knows he has you, or more accurately, will have you. Because as soon as the band is done, you’re dragging him into your office and having your way with him. You feel flush and desperate to ride him until you can’t walk properly.

“Because my dear you look so good,” Johnny sings, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re good enough to eat. I’ll never let you go, once I’ve sunk in my teeth...”

And now you can’t help but remember his mouth on you, and how enthusiastic and eager he was to finish you off even though he himself had already come. Once that image is in your mind, you can’t get it out and you throw him a wink, before stepping back and letting the crowd swallow you.

The band plays several other songs, which you watch from backstage. As questionable as their music is, you have to admire how much fun they’re apparently having. Applause signals the end of their act, and you clap along as the band members file off stage.

Johnny is last, and when he sees you standing there, he strolls over. “See now, love, this is how I expected to find you after last time,” he says.

Wincing, you shove your hands into your pockets. “Yeah, sorry about that,” you apologize. “I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace back then.”

Johnny pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, tucking the end between his lips as he feels around for his lighter. “You can make it up to me by buyin’ me that drink,” he says.

You chuckle, pulling your own lighter out and offering it to him. Smoking has been something you've picked up over the last year and part of you wonders if it's subconsciously because of John. The taste of cigarettes does remind you of him every single time.

“Deal,” you say. “Though, it is my club, so it’ll be free.”

“Even better,” Johnny says. He steps forward, entering your personal space as he takes the lighter from you. “Ta, love.”

There’s heat radiating off his body, and it’s dangerously inviting. You follow the movement of his hands as they light the end of his cigarette, before passing your lighter back. When you take it, he closes his fingers around yours, pulling you in even closer. His free hand comes up to remove the smoke as he exhales off to the side. Unable to stop yourself, you press your body along his.

“So,” you say. “You’re going to ‘sink your teeth’ into me?”

Johnny grins. “If you play your cards right,” he teases.

Laughing, you duck out of his grasp as he leans in. “Not here,” you tell him. “I’m the boss. Last thing I need is for my employees to see me making out with the talent.”

Johnny pouts around his cigarette. “You’re no fun,” he laments as he follows you further backstage, towards the door that leads to the main room.

“We both know that’s not true.”

The bar is still crazy busy, and as Johnny moves in that direction, you catch his hand, leading him towards the VIP area. It’s empty at the moment, for which you are grateful. With Johnny here, you don’t want to be bothered with anyone else. Your security guard lets you pass and you pull Johnny down into the comfy booth with you.

“Fancy,” he comments.

“There are perks to being on top,” you say, before adding with a sly smile. “Many perks.”

Johnny takes a drag, examining you through hooded eyes as he leans back against the seat. “You’re gonna have to show me some time,” he says.

One of your employees takes your drink order, and as she’s leaving, you notice Johnny’s bandmates close by, eyeing the two of you even as they’re surrounded by smiling, scantily clad women.  

“I think they’re envious,” you comment, nodding towards the group. “You’re in the VIP section and they’re not.”

Johnny rolls his head to the side to shoot them a grin, giving them a mocking wave. “Bit obvious, innit?”

“Do you want me to invite them to join?”

“Nah,” Johnny shakes his head. He extinguishes his cigarette butt in the ashtray in front of him. Sliding closer, he drops his hand under the table, finding your thigh. “M’fine with jus’ you an’ me.”

You lean into the touch. “How did you find me?” you ask.

“Magic.”

You roll your eyes, stopping his hand from traveling up any further. “Very funny,” you say. “How about why did you find me?”

Johnny regards you for a moment, eyes roaming your face. “Haven’t stopped thinkin’ ‘bout that night,” he admits. “Also, needed to return these.”

From his pocket he draws out the panties you gave him, and you drag his hand down and out of sight. “Are you crazy?” you hiss. “You don’t just wave a woman’s underwear around!”

Johnny is delighted by your embarrassment, and tries to pull them away as you grab for them. “Aww look at you blush,” he teases. “You were so confident an’ bold the las’ time we met.”

“I had been drinking, and we were alone,” you say, still wrangling the panties from his grasp. He finally relents, letting you tug them free. You shove them into your pocket. “And it was the only way I could think of to apologize for ditching you.”

“I have another way,” Johnny says, fingers trailing up your arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

Drinks are placed down in front of you, but you both ignore them in favor of looking at each other. “So, just like that, you show up out of nowhere, play a song for me, and then expect me to bang you like last time?” you ask.

“Not up for it?”

“Of course I am! I’m just making sure we’re on the same page,” you grin, picking up your drink. Johnny does the same and you tap your glass to his, before downing most of the liquor in one gulp. “Come with me.”

“That’s the plan, love.”

Heart racing, you slam your glass down onto the table and stand, Johnny following close behind. Bypassing security, and other patrons, you make your way across the room, towards the Employee’s Only door in the way back.

“Oi! Constantine! Where you off to, mate?” Gary shouts after you both.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Gaz,” Johnny shouts back, before slinging his arm around your shoulders.

If anyone else is paying attention, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to transpire, and part of you wishes Johnny would be a little more discreet. But you also realize that’s asking for a lot, so you go with it, leading him through the door to the back hallway.

Once alone, Johnny pushes you against the nearest wall, cupping your face before practically smashing his mouth to yours. It’s just like the first time: hot, urgent, exciting, with a hint of danger. You instantly melt, mouth falling open with a loud moan as John kisses you deeply. Tongues meeting in the middle, you each try to gain the upper hand. There’s a desperation from Johnny you don’t remember feeling before, and you come to the conclusion that he’s thought about this moment for some time.

“Office,” you mumble between kisses.

“But that would mean stoppin’,” Johnny grins against your mouth, one hand dropping to tug on your belt loop. He draws your bodies together, and you can feel the outline of his cock through his jeans.

“Only for a second,” you giggle. “Can’t blow you out here.”

Johnny groans, drawing back. “Which way?”

You seize his hand and tug him in the direction of your office, happy that none of your employees are around. The both of you nearly barrel through the door, slamming it shut behind you before attacking each other again.

Johnny’s mouth never leaves yours as he pushes you towards the desk. You grab his shirt and spin, forcing his back to hit the edge and items to go scattering onto the floor as he moves to sit on the dull surface. He swipes papers away impatiently to make more room, spreading his legs so you can slot yourself between them.

Your hands fall to his belt, impatiently undoing the buckle before reaching for the button of his pants. Johnny’s too busy reacquainting himself with your mouth to help, fingers buried in your hair and teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He’s sighing and groaning, as if he’s getting a fix of something he’s been craving. Which, you suppose he is.

You break away gasping, and he lifts his hips so you can pull his pants down. His cock is already hard, practically springing from its confines comedically. You can’t help but giggle and Johnny lets out a chuckle as well.

“Someone is happy to see me,” you grin.

“Aye,” Johnny agrees, running a hand through his hair as you drop to your knees. “Been at half-mast since I first saw you makin’ those drinks behind the bar.”

“You were watching me?” you ask.

Johnny smiles, staring at you as if he can’t believe you’re really there. “You look good, love,” he says. “I couldn’t ‘elp it.

There’s a moment that passes, where you simply stare at each other, seemingly registering that you’re finally together again. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted this until that exact moment. Months spent staring at that business card has somehow led to this reunion, you’re sure of it. The paper is worn thin from all the times you ran your fingers across it. How many times did you reach for the phone? How many times did you start dialing, only to chicken out and hang up?

None of that matters now.

You run your tongue up the underside of his cock and Johnny swears, leaning back on his elbows. “Must’a touched meself hundreds of times while thinkin’ ‘bout that mouth of yours,” he continues, watching you wrap your lips around the head.

“Really?” you tease, briefly tonguing the slit on the end. “Hundreds?”

Before he can answer, you suck hard and Johnny groans loudly, hips immediately pistoning up. You manage to avoid gagging by pulling back, and shoot him an amused look. Johnny only grins lazily, head falling back as you start to move your mouth up and down his swollen shaft. After a minute or so, you realize two things. One, you forgot how fucking loud Johnny can be. You’ve barely started and he’s already moaning as if you’ve deepthroated him. And two, your knees are not going to last long this way.

You pull off for a second, and Johnny whimpers with disappointment. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, love--”

“Oh relax! I need to readjust,” you tell him, pulling your chair over. “Here, turn this way.”

You collapse into the chair, rolling it forward and Johnny turns, sliding his legs on either side of you. “Perfect,” you grin, taking him into your hand. Hunched over, but not kneeling on the hardwood floor, you waste no time, sucking him passed your lips as hard as you can.

Johnny falls back onto the desk, head practically hanging over the edge. “Fuck, yes, love!” he exclaims, one hand finding your hair.

He tries to push your head down as he thrusts up, but you don’t let him, refusing to relinquish the control you have. Bracing your arms on his thighs, you pin him to the desk, pulling off his cock with a wet pop. Wrapping your hand around him, you jerk him off, loving the way his stomach muscles clench and his back arches slightly.

“You know, I’ve yet to have sex in this office,” you comment, squeezing harder.

Johnny is already panting, lifting his head to smirk at you. “Well aren’t I special?” he teases.

“Oh you’re something alright.”

This time when you take him into your mouth, you suck him down right to the base, until the dark blond curls tickle your nose. After a second, you pull off, gagging, before immediately doing it again. Johnny swears, both hands in your hair now as you set a near brutal pace, head bobbing on his lap.

The taste and feel of him brings you right back to that night you met, and it’s like the last year has happened at all. However this time, you can clearly see his expression and it’s even more beautiful than you could have ever anticipated. Red cheeks, cute wrinkle as he furrows his brow, teeth briefly biting into his lower lip...fuck you wish you had a camera to capture the moment.  

Johnny’s twitching and jerking up into your mouth, sounds continually pouring from his mouth, whether it’s swears, gasps, moans, or your name.

God, that’s the best part. Hearing that fucking voice say your name that way.

You’re drooling around his cock, and you know you should probably stop to catch your breath, but you honestly don’t want to because that would mean Johnny would stop making such delicious noises. You’re spared from making that choice when Johnny yanks you off.

“Gonna shoot me load if you keep doin’ that,” he exclaims. “Dunno how that was even better than last’ time.”

Grinning and panting, you pull away and lean back in your chair, wiping your mouth with your hand. “Really? You were gonna come just from a little blow job?” you tease.

“That was not little!” Johnny exclaims, sliding off the desk and placing his hands on the arm rests at your sides. “Having a bloke halfway down your throat over and over again isn’t easy. And I should know.”

He steals a kiss from you as you laugh, before pushing the chair until it hits the wall. Eyeing you hungrily, he drops to his knees, reaching for your jeans. After he easily undoes the button, you lift your hips, allowing him to drag them down and off. You have to say, you picked the perfect night not to put on underwear.  

John wastes no time, throwing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face between your thighs. Heat shoots through your body and down to your core, leaving you gasping from excitement. Feet braced on the desk, you grab Johnny’s hair just as he did to you, arching into his mouth as his tongue slips inside. No hesitation, no build up...just right to being where he apparently really wants to be. Now you’re the one whimpering and swearing, especially when his thumb presses softly to your clit, before dragging a small circle around it.

Outside your office, music blares and people dance the night away, while you are consumed by the talented mouth of one John Constantine. Fuck you’ve never met someone whose tongue can be everywhere you want it to be at once. Maybe he is magic. Wouldn’t that be a hilarious twist of fate. Or he’s just really good at oral.

Whatever the case, you don’t fucking care. All you care about is his mouth massaging your folds, and him moaning low in his throat as if he’s sampling the sweetest treat in the world. That beautiful tongue slips out of you, but his thumb continues its torturous circles, even as Johnny spreads you open further with his other hand. When he licks you again, it’s a small tentative one to your hidden pucker, and you moan.

The next thing you know, Johnny’s gone and your eyes fly open, blinking away the brightly colored spots decorating your vision. John seizes your hands and pulls you out of your chair, spinning you around to face the desk. You’re shoved forward roughly, bent over the surface with your ass presented to him. You hear him drop into the chair behind you and then his mouth is all over you again.

His hand reaches around and two fingers rub your clit furiously, as he licks a path up your slit to your pucker and then back down, again and again and again. The boldness of his actions doesn’t take you by surprise, but the spasms of intense pleasure do and you are powerless to do anything other than moan, especially when his tongue slips back into you. Time drags on and you’re soon reduced to a thrashing, blissed-out mess.

“Was too dark las’ time,” Johnny mumbles into your flesh. “Didn’t see these naughty bits. Bloody beautiful you are, love. And delicious.” He buries his face in you, moaning loudly as you cry out and grind against his tongue.

“Johnny!” you gasp. “I need you inside me!”

John pulls away with a smack of his lips and a slap to your ass cheek. “Lucky for you, we both need that,” he purrs, getting to his feet.

You shakily push yourself up onto your hands, slowly turning around to face him. Johnny grabs the back of his t-shirt, yanking it over his head and chucking it to the side after wiping his face on it. As you tug your own shirt off impatiently, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you forward, hugging you close. This is the first time you’re both seeing each other fully naked, though you don’t have the opportunity to admire the view. You’re too distracted by how his skin feels amazing against yours. Hot, smooth, perfect even. He runs his hands up your back, admiring the feeling just as you are.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask him, as his cock nudges your thigh.

“In me pants,” Johnny says, still touching every bit of you he can. “Bloody ‘ell, love, you feel spectacular.”

You yank him into a kiss, and you share each other’s tastes, which is so dirty and provocative you can’t help the surge of excitement. And urgency. Because he needs to fuck you right this second or you’re going to explode, and not in the fun way.

Not wanting to keep going without protection, you reluctantly draw away so he can untangle himself from your arms. He scours the floor for his pants, digging around in his pocket for the rubber once he finds them. You hum with appreciation, taking in the sight of his bare ass as he bends over.

“This is a great angle for you, Constantine,” you tell him, hoisting yourself up onto the desk and spreading your legs. You start to toy with yourself, amazed at how soaked you are.

“Checking out me arse, love?” Johnny grins as he straightens his stance, holding the condom up triumphantly. His eyes widen with glee when he sees your fingers disappear between your slick folds.

“Mmm, yeah I was,” you smirk. “Now, how do you want me?”

Johnny tears open the condom wrapper, tossing it somewhere behind him as he moves to stand in front of you once more. “Jus’ like this, love,” he purrs, rolling the latex onto his stiff cock, giving himself a few strokes for good measure. That done, he hooks his hands under your knees and brings your legs up, forcing you onto your back as he jerks you forward. “Jus’ like this.”

Johnny takes himself in one hand and pushes into you, eyes nearly rolling back in his head as his lids flutter closed. You can’t keep yours open either, so you don’t, stretching your arms over your head to grip the edge of the desk. Fuck, was he this thick before or has it just been a long time? Your thighs are already quivering as he eases in, inch by glorious inch until he’s as deep as he can be.

Firm hands grip your waist tight, and then Johnny is fucking into you with quick, deep thrusts. Suddenly nothing else in the world matters and you lose yourself completely in the hot, blond man taking you on your desk.

His lap slaps your thighs loudly on each thrust, joining the sounds of your heavy breath and moans while the base of some song bumps away in the background. Holding onto the edge as tight as you can, you bounce along with him, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in even closer. A thin layer of sweat is already forming on your moving bodies, and Johnny’s fingers dig into your skin enough to leave marks.

“Look at me,” he demands, groaning your name. “Lemme see those eyes, love.”

You blink up at him, moaning at the lustful grin on his handsome face. His eyeliner is running a little, product heavy hair falling into his eyes making him look thoroughly disheveled. Once he has your full attention, Johnny lets go of your waist, placing his hands on either side of your head and pressing his weight on you. You hook your heels together and cling to him as if your life depends on it, as if you’d die if he stopped fucking you, because you’re pretty sure you will.

You loop one arm around his neck, seeking his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Johnny grunts and kisses back, moving faster, practically grinding into you each time. The pressure on your clit is perfect, and when John dips his hips just slightly, the head of his cock brushes that spot inside of you that makes you call out. Soon every thrust is directed to that spot and his mouth drops to your neck, feasting on your throat.

Your orgasm is hovering just out of reach, urging you to rut shamelessly against Johnny. Sharp teeth dig into your throat as he sucks hard enough to leave red spots, and you recognize his whimpers and moans from before.

He’s close.

“Fuck, Johnny!” you gasp. “I’m gonna come!”

“Oh, yeah you are,” Johnny grunts into your ear, wet lips sucking on the lobe. “S’like yer built for me, love. You take my cock so fucking good! Like yer never lettin’ go.”

The desk jumps and scrapes against the floor, any remaining objects on the surface crashing to the ground until it’s just you and John. You’re beyond words now, so fucking close to coming that it actually hurts, in the most wonderfully torturous way.

“Yer gonna come for Johnny,” he orders. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

“Make...me…”

It only takes a few more brutal thrusts before your whole body seizes, and it feels like a rubber band inside you snaps, sending waves and waves of pure ecstasy. You scream, yes, actually scream, crushing Johnny to your chest as your back arches and you freeze in place. Johnny keeps going, biting and sucking your throat and shoulder excitedly even as he babbles.

“Yes, love, yes! Look at you coming like a bloody fucking champ! Johnny’s gonna come inside you. I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a final grunt and one last slam of his hips, before he too is practically convulsing, fucking his way through his own orgasm.

Your body is trembling when he collapses on top of you, a tangled mass of sweaty limbs and your release. The area under you is wet and you are vaguely aware how disgusting that is. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

Johnny hums, kissing the love bites up your neck and to your cheek, lazily seeking your mouth. You turn to grant him the kiss he wants, gently rubbing the spots on his back where you now realize you dug your nails. You can feel the crescent marks, not that he seems to mind.

His hips give one more weak thrust, before he pulls out and rolls onto the desk next to you, legs hanging limply over the edge just as yours are. He carefully removes the condom, tying it closed and dropping it off the side and, hopefully, into your waste basket. Feeling around blindly for the drawer behind your calf, you open it just enough to pull out the carton of cigarettes and lighter you keep there. Shaking, you pull a stick out for yourself and offer the pack to Johnny.

He takes it gratefully as you light the end of your cigarette, passing the lighter to him afterwards and laying back down.

“How long are you in town?” you ask, taking a deep drag.

“Couple’a days,” is his muffled response.

You contemplate your next words, unsure of how they will be received. After all this time, you don’t want this to be the end. There’s clearly something between you and it would be a shame not to explore it further, no matter how dangerous that might be.

“Good, you’re staying with me,” you tell him, tossing him a grin. “No excuses.”

Johnny smiles around his cigarette, dropping the lighter and tucking his hands behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. “Wasn’t planning any, love,” he says. “Wasn’t planning any.”

#ladyfoggdrabbles #constantine fanfic #john constantine fanfic #John Constantine #mucous membrane

[oxliviaa]

Grazing the Edges 2

Trigger Warning; Mentions of sexual assault, suicidal ideation, a near suicide attempt and self harm. 

I lay in the bed with Erica. We are supposed to be watching YouTube videos but my mind is else where. I’m looking at the ceiling while my mind runs circles. Tonight is not a good night for me, my headspace is toxic. She turns to me, “Liv what’s wrong?”. I can’t answer. How could I tell her that my mind is on repeat, that I can’t shut it off. How can I tell her that my mind is reliving it all over again. All I can do in that moment is shake my head no. Anytime she asked I closed my eyes, took a breath and shook my head. I feel out of control, I can’t stop the thoughts no matter how hard I try. My brain has poisoned itself. 

I try so hard to find words for it but all I could say that would give her enough detail is “I’m reliving it”. She immediately knows what I’m talking about and also struggles to find words in that moment. Same boat huh? I eventually get the courage to try and speak. Depressed thoughts spew from my mouth like the tears I wish I could form. It’s like I’m numb. After talking for a while she has to go to the washroom. It all goes down hill from here. 

The second she goes, I get up and walk up to her desk. She does lots of interesting projects at her desk and I spot the razor blade. I sit down in her computer chair and pick it up. My mind is spiralling out of control. It’s saying “Do it”. I drag it up and down my left forearm trying to gain the strength to do it. Right as I was about to dig it in my arm and go up, she walks back into the room. I have it pressed on my skin ready to go, tight grip, and shaking violently. She sees what I’m about to do, and crouches down to my level. All I can remember is her occasionally trying to take it, and her calming voice. “Liv, don’t do it”, “Liv look up at me”, “I love you”. That’s not how I wanted her to say it. I didn’t want her to say it under distress or have it be when I want to hurt myself. I can’t even look at her. I’m either staring at my arm, or the razor blade pressing against my hand. Whenever she would tilt my head up and try to get me to look at her, my eyes immediately diverted to the wall. I feel overwhelmed, depressed, and ashamed. Eventually she gets my hand loose enough to take the blade away. I’m still shaking, violently than ever. She puts it out of arms reach and brings me in tightly for a hug and won’t let go. She won’t let go until I’m not shaking as much. I still can’t look at her. She wants me to come outside for a smoke but I’m dead on the inside. I tell her to go without me, but she won’t. I go with her outside and smoke a cigarette and barely say a word the whole time. All I can do it shake because I’m staring at the red ember of the smoke between my fingers. “Don’t do it” she say again. She takes it and flicks it away. We are now returning inside. 

I collapse in the bed and turn over towards the wall. I don’t want to go home, so I stay as long as possible. We talk for hours, asking questions back and forth until I’m okay enough to go home. It’s 2:30am and I’m walking home with the light posts to guide me. Right now it feels like the only light in my life. I wish this would all be over. 

#180days #journal #personal