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p-antomime · 2 years

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kiki i don't consider myself a taiju fucker but you somehow makes me look at him on a diff lights and i don't know if i must thank you for this because i've always been a hakkai simp, you know? BUT DAMNNN, girl, you write taiju so well, i'm so so so so in love with that piece of yours called old habits, it's literally the freaking best thing i ever ever ever read and i've been on tumblr for DECADES and for being for so long on tumblr, i'm begging ON MY KNEES to see you writing something with priest!taiju x succubus!reader because i know you're the only one who could write anything with him being corrupted but not being tamed, you know? i have no idea if i made myself clear lolll, but i hope so!! just think about taiju and his succubus having a tattoo on her belly 👀👀

ahemmmmmm, as always with anything with taiju: i got your back nonnie ! i could easily write a 10K+ one-shot with this whole sexy concept you gave me but anyways.

୧ : tw.: corruption!kink, blasphemy, hints of somnopholia, breeding!kink, [faux] virginity loss.

just think about it: taiju being a newly arrived priest at the church, but who already knows very well how he wants to minister the masses, how he wants the arrangement of the altar boys around the altar, the only thing he doesn't know is why the priest before him asked to be attached to another church. the place looked so beautiful, the stained glass windows were always clean, the people seemed less prone to sin, what was the problem there?

the problem was you, obvious. he knew instantly when he saw you enter the Sunday mass the first week he started working.

it was not as if you wore revealing clothes, even though taiju disapproved the hem of your skirt sewn a few centimeters above the knee, but that's okay, he could overlook that if you prayed at least 6 Hail Marys. the main problem was: your look, your way of behaving, the almost crimson red lipstick that you wore as if you were entering a whorehouse and not a church.

and it got worse! for him, obviously. because that whole week you made a point of going to masses, preferably at night, with necklines that little by little got longer and haunted his mind when it was time to go to sleep. but, sleep didn't come early or quickly, he felt as if the hormones in his body were betraying the sanctity to which he promised to give himself. and it became a diversion for you to watch him finally get to sleep even though his cock ached to be touched between his legs and slipped into his dreams where you could freely touch his body and wrap your hand around where he needed it most to wake him up with his underwear all wet with hot cum and his heart racing.

taiju would be completely convinced that it was the devil trying to make him sin after several years. he'd even try not to be in charge of confessions when you asked to go to confession at a mass on a Sunday as well, but no other person was available and there went poor shiba taiju barely able to contain himself right, sitting in the confessional with his legs manspread wide in an attempt to relieve a little bit of the boner he got just by hearing the sounds of your shoes entering that very room.

you would say that you were a virgin, taiju would feel his breath catch in his throat; how dirty can a man be to the point of desiring a young virginal girl? it was a pity that he didn't know it was a lie. and then, you would say that in the last few weeks you have been feeling... strange, feeling a strange need to touch yourself "down there" in the middle of the night, taiju would not be able to contain himself and would ask you to continue talking while one of his hands placed itself on his cock covered by the gown.

you would say, "Father, these past nights have been so hard for me, I've... I've been thinking, fantasizing about men groping me and rubbing me where I know they shouldn't touch me," and by then Taiju would have his big dick free pumping it silently, the swollen tip letting more and more pre-cum escape and his cheeks starting to redden, he could feel his veins throbbing for a pussy, for your pussy, and you were fully aware that his mind was fantasizing about you bouncing on his cock at that very moment while you were talking about how gross your fantasies were, how much you wanted to reconnect with god, how disgusted he, like a priest, must have been with you.

but disgusted? taiju was actually about to make fun of you after so long without even touching himself properly.

and then, suddenly, you would ask as you walked out of your confessional area and stood in front of his door, "are you touchin' yourself, Father Shiba?"

everything stopped, his breathing, his hand around his dick, the flow of libidinous thoughts; shame began to fall on him, definitely God had already prepared for him a horrendous penance.

"Don't you want to feel the real thing, Father Shiba? A real, warm pussy around your dick? Cleching down so hard the way you know you may like it? You must be so tired of feeding yourself only on fantasies and thoughts, aren't you? It's kinda even...," you stifled a chuckle as you picked up the doorknob and turned it to open it and could see taiju looking at you with extremely red cheeks, "Embarrassing, gross, don't you feel ashamed for having such pervy thoughts about a virgin girl?"

before, he was. Definitely! But now? Seeing you with that cleavage that left little to his imagination and your skirt barely covering your thighs? Definitely not.

in a matter of seconds taiju was pulling you into his small confessional without bothering to close the door, pushing you half lying down, half sitting on the stool previously occupied and spreading your legs only to discover that there were no panties covering the most sacred part of your body.

however, there was a beautiful tattoo over your crotch, exactly over your belly, and out of pure taiju instinct he pressed his fingers against it, earning a loud, drawn out moan coming from you, who bent down to take his hand and bring it to the middle of your spread thighs where his fingers passed between your folds and spread your slick.

"If you were a good priest, Father Shiba, you wouldn't mind taking someone's virginity, would you? What's better than a holy man like you using a hole as tight as mine?"

but then he would remember: the one who should be in control is him. Who is closest to God? Him. Who refuses to sin? Him. Who is the one man who was dying to cum deep inside you? The answer is no different.

so taiju promptly forced yours legs against your tits and slid deep inside your tight, warm pussy, perfect to be used, stretched and purified as many times as he deemed necessary.

his hand again pressed against your belly as if your tattoo there was reminding him that there was nowhere else but inside you for him to cum.

and it is always so sad to see a man of god giving himself up to temptation!

— tokyo rev. masterlist.

#tokyo revengers smut #taiju smut #taiju shiba smut #tokyo revengers x reader #taiju x reader #tr smut #taiju x y/n #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x fem!reader #tokyo revengers x female reader #taiju shiba x reader #shiba taiju x reader #tw.somnophilia #tw.religion #tw.blasphemy #tw.corruption #tw.breeding kink #tw.monsterfucking

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mycrofts-umbrella-in-the-tardis · 2 years

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The "Timeline"

The Sherlock Timeline with shipping goggles set to Mystrade.

(Please feel free to add on to this if I missed anything!)

(I also apologise for any spelling errors.)

Pre-season 1 / Pre-canon

We don't know exactly how Lestrade and Sherlock met, but enough headcanons have convinced me that William here walked onto a crime scene, and Greg decided to believe in him. (of course, granted he get off drugs, as most headcanons have said.)

In the pilot, Mycroft interrogated John within a day of knowing Sherlock. We can assume that he'd do the same with anyone that walked into his brother's life... meaning that he must have done a similar interrogation with Greg.

Like I said, we don't know much about pre-canon, including when Sherlock and Lestrade met. Despite this, I believe that it's possible that Lestrade had to have become somewhat acquainted with Mycroft. Whether or not a relationship beyond platonic began here is up to you.

Season 1

At the end of A Study in Pink, Mycroft and Lestrade know that Sherlock now has a flatmate that will be there for him. As we know, both Mycroft and Greg are protective of Sherlock, almost like parental figures. (why do you think we keep calling him Papa Lestrade?)

So having John walk into Sherlock's life is kind of the equivalent to overworked parents getting a babysitter.

This is where The Blind Banker comes in.

I'm pretty sure that another tumblr, @dalec, mentioned it before, but there is no way that the two didn't go on some nice holiday during the entire episode, seeing as they weren't there at all.

I don't think there's anything to work with in The Great Game, so I'll just skip over to...

Season 2

Ah yes. The peak of the show, in my personal opinion.

Once again, although Mycroft made an appearance in this episode quite a couple of times (6, if i'm correct) I don't think there's any details to point out here, except for the fact that we know that Greg and his wife are separated/divorced. (Christmas party.)

Now... Hounds of Baskerville.

This episode marked a very important moment (if not the catalyst) of Mystrade.

Fact: Sherlock (and the audience) know that Lestrade went on a holiday.

Fact: We know that Mycroft asked Lestrade to look after his brother.

Fact: It's confirmed that Mycroft and Lestrade s p o k e to each other.

So, we know that Lestrade went on holiday after what we can assume is his divorce.

So who do you think he went with?

Alone? That's likely. But having him go with Mycroft on another holiday makes more sense.

Moving on from HoB, we meet ourselves at The Reichenbach Fall. The events that happened here are very significant. If Mycroft and Lestrade ever had a relationship, this episode complicated things to the max.

So, sad times for about 2 years. We now go to...

Season 3

So Sherlock's alive, and now everyone knows. If you follow the storyline of "Mycroft and Greg were together for those 2 sad years" then you better believe that there. Will. Be. Problems.

If you don't think they were together at this point, that's also fine. But you have to admit that even if they were just friends, Greg must've felt betrayed. (I'm not gonna say that it's groundwork for an angsty fic, but it's groundwork for an angsty fic.)

Okay, onto The Sign of Three.

John and Mary's wedding, lots of people are there, including Lestrade, and excluding Mycroft.

There was a headcanon I saw that said that the reason he didn't go was because if he did, then Sherlock would deduce that Mycroft and Lestrade were hooking up/dating.

Another post on Tumblr said that Greg was disappointed not to see Mycroft at the wedding, and he decided to drink the night away to cope.

Both of these I love.

ALSO I can't mention TSoT without mentioning the tie thing.

I know people already said that the two ties have different patterns, but I still had to mention it.

Now... His Last Vow. Another historical moment because...

you guessed it, our two favorite idiots were in a scene together for the first time.

Yes, Mycroft waves Lestrade away, like, right after he speaks, but. There. Was. Definitely. A. Moment.

Maybe.

Okay, now's time for...

The Abominable Bride

Graveyard scene. Just... graveyard scene.

Season 4

Once again, Mycroft and Lestrade are in the same scene together, BUT there is another thing to point out from earlier in the episode.

Sherlock points out that Lestrade is going on a date with "The Brunette," who is supposedly a woman.

Okay, sure.

I like to believe he was going on a date with Mycroft, but do with that information what you will.

(Btw thank you @lavenderandvanilla for your fic using this idea.)

I don't think that The Lying Detective gives us anything to work with, aside from the setup to a hurt/comfort fic, like the one written by @smartforholmes.

And with that, we move to The Final Problem.

Mycroft has a traumatizing night at his house, The Bakerstreet Boys are kidnapped by Eurus, but they make it out alive, so everything's okay. /s

As we all know, this episode marks the final historical moment of this ship:

"Oh, and Mycroft. Make sure he's looked after. He's not as strong as he thinks he is."

"I'll take care of it."

I'll take care of it.

Repeat, Greg Lestrade will take care of it. And by it, he means Mycroft.

Greg Lestrade will take care of Mycroft.

Conclusion:

Gay.

(An extra thank you to everyone from the Mystrade fandom for being so active in the community and inspiring me to make this.)

#bbc sherlock #mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #microsoft holmes #papa lestrade #timeline #otp #why did i do this

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mxtxnerd · 5 months

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Just want to know what Tumblr thinks of my little story :)

If this is my final note, it will be one telling the story of my life. This will be written from my heart and my heart only, and will be the purest form of my emotions.

I will start with my childhood; I was born in Illinois, raised in Wisconsin, and moved around the states as I grew. I was named after my father, who died of some illness before I was born. The town I lived in for most of my childhood was very religious, and I'd go to church on Wednesday and Sunday. I was the helper of the pastor as I got older, and by the time I moved back to that town he was dead. A new person took over for him. At 5 I first rode a bike, at 7 I learned to write cursive. I'd watch Batman, and begged my mom for foods I saw on the cooking channels. Nothing important happened in my childhood, I continued church, learned to cook, made some friends. In 1976 I got a job at a bar, and continued that for the rest of my life. I learned how to make many drinks, met lots of interesting people, drank to my heart's content, and saved us all from many demons. Incubi, I think they were called, male demons coming to our world to seduce humans into betraying god. I made sure none would succeed.

After a few years, in ‘79, I met an incubus I couldn't kill. Not there, it wasn't the right place. His ability was too strong, I needed to go to a holy place, or just somewhere I could focus on him.

I invited him out, he agreed to meet me for a date, of course it was hushed. Two men, on a date? Either way, he went with me. I led him to the church, he tripped walking in, fell up the steps to the pastors house, then didn't want to walk in without being invited. Maybe that last ones a vampiric trait, at this point he's infected me, I can't think right.

My connection with God has been broken long ago, and only now I'm realizing when it happened. That night, when we first met, he kissed me. The kiss, although enjoyable, was wrong. I went against god, and ever since I've been different. Not thinking clearly, eating differently, I've gotten sick more, it's been harder to focus on anything but him, he's all I can find myself thinking of on days when work is slow. He's infected my mind, my connection with God has faded and nothing can restore it at this point!

…

The kiss was nice. He's gentle, kind, and has never treated me badly. Never hit me, threatened me, told me I need to change, and he always explains when he's in a bad mood, and why. He's so pretty as well, his hair is perfect, suits his face nicely, he has a sense of fashion unlike any other. It fits his personality, his clothes are always right for his work. His name rolls off the tongue, and his eyes are unique, his hair’s the right color for his skin. He's perfect in every way. It's a sign of the devil. No ones that perfect, no one can be that handsome and his face is too feminine and his body is too feminine, but he's masculine. His muscles, his voice, his eyebrows even. He's such a man, such a woman. Not a woman. He's a girl. Childish, sensitive, he's a little girl in a man's body. A teenager, that's him! A teenage girl, trying to make the mature men fall for him. He may be older than me, but the way he acts is too stupid for a man his age! I love him. He's blinded my senses, my thoughts, everything. The demon he is has severed my connection with God.

His disguise is too good, everything looks so real, his hair, his eyes, his skin.

He is likely possessing a man, a demon in such a beautiful body is out of place. I assume it's just the demon's powers of attraction that's making me say this, I have no interest in men. None at all, in fact I'm such a good devotee that I'm also not interested in women. My attention goes fully to God.

He is not my god, he is god. For he is the father of all, not just me. He loves you, more than you could imagine, as much as I love my darling demon. God has saved me many times, when I crashed a car, when I crashed a bike, when I was hit by a car, all the times drunk men and women have yelled at me while I was getting their drinks. God is the reason I have survived. He rewards me for all the demons I've killed. Ever since that day where I couldn't kill just one, I've not been protected. I haven't been hit by cars or crashed my bike, and there's been less yelling in the bar. God hasn't saved me yet, I'm losing his favor.

I've been with my darling demon for years now, I think it's been 8 since I met him. He's been a good husband, a good man. We have a house, a cat, and live a comfortable life together. We're just roommates, really. We haven't done anything sexual. No, we haven't. We kiss, yes, sometimes, but nothing more. Maybe it's gotten a bit close, but we've never done anything!

A month ago, I told him about all the demons I've killed. I forgot he was one as I told him, and he called the police. He said I killed people. I killed demons trying to seduce me — gods closest helper on this earth — not human beings. The police showed up, and I was taken into custody. My first trial I told them the story, pleaded not guilty, I told them of the demons, and how it's what God wants. I was sent to a hospital until another trial took place. It was as uneventful as the first. I waited for the third, it wasn't anymore fun, but I've been told I'm going to die today, that's okay.

God has a plan for us all, if his plan for me is to kill me now then so be it! I'm a dead man already, banished to hell for eternity. I might as well be there already, having to go through these trials and this stupid life. I hate this place! This Earth isn't the paradise god wanted, I need to get out of here and fix it. They want to kill me in ten minutes. I can't banish all demons in ten minutes, all demons must die by my hands. Punishment for what they've done to me. My demon boy, my man, my husband, left me to rot here.

He's got a point. If he told me he killed five humans I'd get the police too. It's all my fault.

Love is a curse bestowed upon man, so forever hold us accountable for what we do when it blinds us.

I must go, my time has come. And if you ever find this, my love, just know nothing's your fault. Demon or not, I'm the one to blame. I can't think of what to say, I'm sorry. It's too late for me to express how much I love you, my husband, my family. I'll miss you, I'll miss you, when I look at you as they kill me, I want you to know it's not because I hate you, I want my last breath to be wasted because of your stunning face, your body, everything about you. You are the reason I died, you're why I came to live. I love you, goodbye.

#short story #proofreading #writing #story #1k words #idk man

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mrssimply · 1 year

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13th: Servitude

So, this one was unprompted. Indeed, since I didn't gather enough prompts over Tumblr at the time, I decided to use this event as a motivator to do all the projects I once said I would do and never did. Mainly, I purged "The List", which was that damned list of ideas and concept we all have. Let me tell, you, this event allowed me to strike A LOT of items.

And this is one of them.

This idea was "prompted" by the game itself, by the patch that brought more text interractions between V and their love interests. In one of them, V brags to Panam about knowing Kerry, and Panam says she is a fan. Then, there was also the fact the game never adresses the fact you can have multiple partners without really talking about it. I always wondered what would be Panam and Kerry's reaction to that.

Finaly, I love both Panam and Kerry, I find them both extreemly hot so... Since I have the power of words, I made it happen.

Hope this unusual pairing will make you curious enough to try it, reader. It would make my day to know what you think of this :D!

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

Oh and since it'll probably be the only Kerry/panam/V fic ever, I made it E-rated.

When V kissed Kerry the first time, Johnny stayed silent until they were back in his flat. Then, he sprawled on the couch, feet up on the table and grinned at V: “So, what are you gonna say to Panam?” he asked, hands behind his head. “Man, can’t wait to see her reaction.”

Unfortunately for Johnny, he never saw the moment it happened because, by a series of events, the secret lasted for a while. Nearly a year.

Said events included: storming the Arasaka Tower, going on a trip across the NUSA to look for a cure without results, coming back to NC at Kerry’s request, getting a very expensive treatment the rocker paid for, recovering while Panam kept the Aldecaldos moving around, and finally, inheriting the Afterlife when he was back on his two feet.

During all this, V lived in a constant low level of guilt and fear. Guilt was obvious, because what he was doing was so wrong, but when it started he’d been dying, knee deep into a megacorp familial drama. Then he was still dying but with a six month extension… V took it as some sort of revenge on life: if he had no time to live, then he would make the most of it. Now that it appeared he had a whole century ahead of him, well, the guilt was back in full force.

Fear was maybe understandable: he feared to lose them both the moment they discovered how he’d betrayed their trust. But while this self-centered concern was maybe common, V also had a very concrete fear of not surviving the event, because both his lovers were a bit crazy when it came to love matters and being cheated on.

V remembers very well a number of stories Johnny told him about how Kerry thrashed cars and burnt the belongings of his exes, and sometimes even started fights with them Johnny had had to finish for him (with cracked ribs for the cheating guy). There was also the very real threat of Kerry sicking a horde of angry fans on him, since that had happened at least five times already, and twice with media exposure because the exes had been minor celebrities. They never performed ever again after that.

As for Panam, Mitch and Carol took vicious joy in recounting the time Panam discovered her input was seeing three other girls, one in each city they traveled to. They told V how she drove him into the middle of the desert under the pretense of a romantic night, only to leave him there without water but with busted coms. The guy nearly died, apparently, which the Aldecaldos seemed to think was just what he deserved. And finally, V remembers well what she did to the guy who betrayed her thrust and stolen her car… And Nash had only been her business partner.

So really, as time went on, V went deeper and deeper into his lie and soon, he could see no way out but his death at either of their hands, as dramatic as it sounded.

The day it happens, V isn’t prepared. He is in the middle of a job up north, trudging through the oil field after dealing with the last of Jotaro’s minions. A job he’s getting paid for but V would have done it gratis if the families hadn’t insisted on paying him.

He’s covered in blood and dark smelly dirt when he receives a first text from Panam: “you’re dead to me.”

“Fuck,” he curses out loud, stopping in his tracks as his heart suddenly goes into overdrive. He tries to call her but of course she doesn’t pick up. In the meantime, he receives another text, from Kerry this time.

“Congrats, I think you beat Johnny on the asshole scale.”

Trying to call him doesn’t work either, so V stays in the middle of the waste and sighs, looking up to the sky. The sky’s answer is a downpour. Talk about Karma.

V holes himself in the Afterlife. Kerry’s and Panam’s biometrics are in his smart home system, meaning they can both access it, so it’s the least safe place at the moment. He tells Emmerick very firmly to not let anyone looking like a Eurodyne fan or an Aldecaldos washup in. The bouncer replies that description fits about two thirds of their clientele, but V ignores him and goes to the bar. As always, Claire gives him the silent treatment, since she’s still not forgiven him for going on with the race instead of helping her kill Peter Samson. As he rounds the bar with the intent of pouring his own drink, she gives him a smirk and that stops him in his tracks.

She looks very satisfied with herself.

“What did you do?” he suddenly asks.

She leans against the counter, arms crossed and her face full of a gleeful malice. V expected her to resign when Rogue announced she was trusting the Afterlife to him, since she probably wouldn’t like working for him, but she stayed and he felt too guilty to pry into her reasons for not quitting. He’d naively thought this meant she was on her way to understand why he hadn’t let her go through with her murderous plan.

“Since you were too sick to celebrate your birthday, Kerry decided Christmas was the occasion to do a big party with all your friends. Celebrate your recovery and all that. He asked me if he could rent the place discreetly, and asked about some of your friends. I told him not to forget to invite the Aldecaldos,” Claire explains.

Shock stuns V and he gapes at her. This was very deliberate on her part! He realizes that, of course, she knows about his two affairs. Being the bartender, she hears everything and V has received both Panam and Kerry here. Weyland and Emmerick probably know, too, hell, maybe half the regulars know about it… But none of them decided to use that against him. Claire did.

“Fuck, are you insane?!” He barks, getting into her face.

“Now you know what losing someone you love feels like!”

V’s face contorts into a series of painful expressions: anger, despair, a profound melancholy. It seems to surprise Claire, for she uncrosses her arms with a confused expression.

V sighs, closes his eyes for a second before turning away from her. A few patrons are looking at them with eager expressions; there is no worse gossip than a bored mercs.

“Take a few days,” V says to Claire and she stiffens, walking past him after a second of hesitation. He catches her wrist.

“I’m not firing you, but I really need to not see your face for a few days. Try to think about what you’ve done in the meantime.”

“I won’t apologize,” she taunts.

“Me neither, Claire. I tried to be a friend to you, and I really hoped you would understand my choice. If you can’t, that’s fine, but what you did is fuckin childish.”

He keeps his tone gentle, tries to convey the honesty of his intentions and maybe for the first time, she gets it. Her gaze trails downard before she wrenches her hand free.

“You’ll get paid leave,” V concludes as she walks away.

He waits until she’s disappeared behind the corner of the entrance before turning back to the mercs at the bar.

“Something on my face?” he snarls, and they all get super invested in the bottom of their drinks.

Shit, he needs to find someone to replace Claire till the end of the week. And then try to deal with the mess she created. He can’t even be mad at her for long: he had it coming.

Two days later, V tried calling either of his… exes so many times he stopped counting. He’s probably been blocked but he can’t help but try. He hired two mercs to try and see if Kerry was in his home, then called Mitch who told him to get lost, then Carol, who replied with a poop emoticon, then the rest of the Aldecaldos, who didn’t pick up. For a hot second, V wished Saul was still alive, he would’ve at least answered V. He sent flowers to Kerry yesterday, and had the same two mercs deliver a whole shipment of components to the Aldecaldos camp. The mercs came back with the packages and bullets in their trucks.

Sighing, he brings his glass of Johnny Silverhand to his lips — the guy filling in for Claire is a fast learner, thank god for small mercies — and lets his head rest against the back of what used to be Rogue’s couch.

The club is nearly empty as the clock reaches three in the morning, an hour where mercs are out on jobs and clients in bed at home. In the relative silence, V allows himself to experience a moment of despair. What if it’s really the end?

Distantly, he can hear Johnny’s voice saying something about gonk wannabe mercs in a long suffering voice.

“Fuck,” he whispers, only to be startled by a ping on his holo, the special notification signal he put for Panam’s number.

It’s a picture, that he opens with trepidation only for his lungs to collapse on themselves like he’s been punched.

The picture is taken from her view, allowing V to see the perfect expanse of her body, the soft slope of her breasts, the curve of her stomach, down to her spread legs. Between them is Kerry, eating her out, both hands gripping her thighs and holding her open for him. He is looking up, mouth pressed against her clit and looking rightly debauched with his hair mussed by her free hand.

The pic brings a lot of confusing emotions to V’s: lust is the first one, powerful and sudden, because this is his ultimate fantasy, the one he barely dared to think about even in his wildest dreams. With how jealous they both can be, he’s always thought he would lose one, if not both. No, he’s always known he would lose both.

Then comes jealousy, pure and simple, because what he wanted so much is happening without him, and it feels so unfair, which is probably exactly what they wanted him to feel.

Then comes another strong wave of despair because yeah, they are pissed. He doesn’t know what to do, what to answer, so he just keeps on drinking.

Later, he receives another text, this one is a vocal and he fears listening to it, but he does anyway. It’s them, panting and moaning. He knows just from the way Panam keens that she came a little before because these are the sounds she makes when she is over sensitive. Kerry is close, so close. Another ten seconds of hearing them curse and grunt and Kerry moans out loud, long and nearly painful as his climax hits him.

V throws the empty glass at the wall and curses out loud, making the few patrons and his new bartender look up at him. He realizes he is standing, breathing like a bull with chaos churning in his head. With a dejected look, he stalks to the backroom to prepare for an excursion in NC’s shadier parts, looking for a fight.

It’s two more days before he receives another text, this one from Kerry. V dreads opening it but by now, the painful sensation of heartbreak has fully settled in and a little bit more agony is nothing. It’s just a text, this time, and it says “meet us at your place, we wanna talk.”

He sits up on the couch, reading over the text once more to make sure he got it right. His Kiroshis flash with a warning about his BPM, but he doesn’t care. He’s shaking as he replies that he will be there asap.

He stumbles in the dark of the backroom of the Afterlife, having stayed with the light off since he came in to… Meditate. Sulk, Johnny’s voice says, you were sulking. Funny how his conscience now has Johnny’s voice.

When he gets into the flat, he does it warily, he’s still not sure they don’t plan on killing him and burying his corpse in the badland. On the other side of the room, Kerry is sprawled on the couch in his usual attire, complete with the glasses that prevent V from reading his expression. Panam leans against the window to Kerry’s left, one foot against the glass, arms crossed over her chest with a scowl. Both are lit with the dying sun, and seeing them reunited in the same space for the first time is unreal. So close from his deepest wish, and yet, so, so far from how he would have wanted it.

Since none of them say a thing, he gets closer and stops when he’s right in front of the coffee table standing between him and Kerry, with Panam on the edge of his field of vision.

Kerry drums his fingers on the back of the couch.

“So?”

V swallows.

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” the rocker replies.

“I’m sorry,” V continued, turning his head to address Panam. She looks to the side, her jaw tightening.

“I should have told you, both of you. There was never a right time ‘cause of the whole relic thing,” he tries to explain, “then I was dying… After that, I don’t know, I just didn’t know how to tell you,” he admits.

Kerry winces, like he always does when V mentions his near death experience, and runs a hand over his mouth before frowning.

“I don’t give a shit about your justifications, V,” Panam intervenes. “I trusted you, we both did, and all this time you were fucking with us!”

“No!” He pleads, turning to her, and if he thought it would sway her, he would fall on his knees, “never, I… I don’t know how to explain this right, it’s just… I really love you, both of you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Panam cries out, but V can tell she hadn’t expected a love confession. He never told her, he told neither, because he was dying, because he felt guilty.

Kerry shifts on the couch.

“Yeah well, that’s great, but you didn’t give us the full disclosure. Didn’t give us a choice to decide if we wanted to be with you or not under the circumstances.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was scared of losing you. I was selfish, I know. I wanted everything. It’s just… I was dying, there was no time, I just wanted to live everything all at once.”

He knows he can’t put everything on his sickness, it won’t go, but it’s the truth. He wishes he could accuse Johnny, tell them it’s the wires that got crossed while the engram inhabited his mind, but he knows it’s not: it was pure survival instincts, and latent assholeness.

“You’re lucky, though,” Kerry continues, not looking at him, “We’re very understanding people.”

V refrains from reacting in any way and he can feel the tension as they both wait for him to call them on such a lie. He doesn’t, he’s not stupid.

“We talked it out,” Panam goes on, “We… fuck, maybe it could work.”

This, V didn’t expect. His heart speeds up, hope flaring in his chest.

“Thing is, V, we both care about you and well, at least you picked someone decent to fuck me over,” Kerry intervenes, grinning at Panam who smiles at him sheepishly and will wonders never cease? V can barely believe it as he takes a shuddering breath.

Kerry holds out his hand to the Aldecaldos’ leader and she goes to him, slipping her hand in his. V watches the rocker’s fingers close around her palm as he pulls her in until she stands right next to him. Panam looks a bit starstruck and V remembers she is a fan, too, and maybe this feels a bit like a dream to her as well.

Between the three of them, and despite his questionable maturity on some things, Kerry is the one who’s got the most experience when it comes to relationships: he has tried a lot of things and V knows he’d been in polyamory circles a few times. V was more worried about Panam, who has such difficulties opening up to any partner, and through her bravado, V can tell she is insecure. But Kerry seems to have proved himself trustworthy because she looks relaxed as she lets herself be guided. Kerry really likes her, V realizes, because he’s looking at her like he looked at V in the beginning of their relationship: like she is cuter than she ought to be, like he shouldn’t be getting into this at his age but he’ll do it anyway. His gaze is tender and honest, and Panam looks the same.

“Fuck, thank you, yes, please,” V babbles, taking a step toward them.

He freezes when they both turn their gaze toward him, throwing him a warning look. V raises his hands in a placating gesture. Ok, so, there might be a positive end to this, but he hasn’t reached it yet.

“Now, we can’t reward bad behavior, V,” Kerry declares, stroking Panam’s hip, the patch of naked skin between her pants and her bodysuit. “You’re gonna have to work for it.”

“Anything, please, just give me a chance,” he vows instantly.

Kerry glances at him for a second.

“How long have you been hiding that from us? About a year, right?”

Panam nods and V winces.

“Then let’s say you owe us a year of servitude. Whatever we want, whatever we ask of you.”

Shit, trust Kerry to have such ideas. He feels like herakles being tasked with the twelve impossible tasks.

“Sure,” he answers, like he has any other choice.

“Great,” the rocker cheers with a devious smile. “Then get on your knees, and crawl here.”

V isn’t surprised Kerry elected sex to test V’s willingness to work for forgiveness. It’s a very important part of the rocker’s life, and a way of expressing himself. At nearly ninety, Kerry is still one of the most sexually active men V met. Panam, being a nomad, was raised in an environment were sex was part of daily life: the lack of soundproofing between the tents meant anyone was always more or less aware of who was having sex with whom, even if they tries to stay discreet for the kids. But so far, their sex life had been pretty vanilla, if only due to the fact they didn’t have a lot of time, between V’s recovery and Panam’s duties.

So his situation is not surprising when it comes to Kerry, it’s a bit more surprising when it comes to Panam but sure, V won’t lie and say he’s not up for it.

After going down on them downstairs, alternating between sucking Kerry’s cock and eating Panam out while they kissed, they went upstairs. There, V was told to undress and get on all four on the bed, which he did.

“Ever pegged him, Pan?” Kerry asks and V distantly notes that they’re using pet names already and feels a bit cheated, but he can’t really complain. He doesn't hear her reply, but Kerry hums.

“Well, wanna try it? I think he would look good taking it from you.”

V curses slowly and turns his head slightly. Panam is looking at him and he approves discreetly to reassure her, if she needs it. She turns back to Kerry with a smile and nods.

“Perfect, got just the thing with me!” Kerry grins and V chuckles. He planned this.

Since no one is objecting to him watching, he does. Kerry brings back a strap and a big black dildo and V’s mouth waters at the same time a thrill passes through him. The thing is huge.

Panam smirks as she takes it in hand, stroking the length once as if to test its texture and hardness. When she nods again, Kerry winks at her and comes closer. Gently, like he nearly never is with V, he kisses Panam. It’s a teasing kiss, brushes of lips against her mouth, fleeting licks of tongues and soft bites. But Panam is as fiery as Kerry is, and soon she is kissing back without restrain, making Kerry hold her closer, tighter. He lets out a small noise of pleasure that goes straight to V’s cock. They might have come earlier but he didn’t and once the feeling of unrealness passed, he’s been very eager to live this through. Kerry is still kissing Panam as he finishes undressing her and she does the same for him. It’s quite the spectacle, one that V enjoys with greedy eyes. He watches Kerry pinch Panam’s nipples through her bodice, watches her fingers run over Kerry’s ass to bring him closer, teasing him like he teases her. Like they’re both teasing V.

Once they’re naked too, Kerry kisses Panam’s neck and slides behind her. He mouths at each knob of her spine as he kneels behind her to put the strap on. She lifts a leg then the other to get into the panties. It’s a pretty thing, it looks comfortable and even has some lacework on the edge. The dildo is standing proudly, snugly fit against her pubes.

“All set,” Kerry purrs, stroking her ass and even giving her a little slap. She laughs and comes closer to the bed. Seeing her walk like this makes V’s mouth water.

“Want me to prep him?” the rocker asks.

“Let's do it together.”

They do so and it’s a sweet torture. Panam’s fingers trail over his hard dick before sliding behind to his taint while Kerry gets the lube. He even warms it between his fingers before joining the nomad’s pointer over V’s hole. Together, they rub over it, smearing lube over his rim, pushing in teasingly, adding more and more lube as they press inside.

“Shit,” Panam curses, “this is —”

“Hot, right?” Kerry suggests and V turns once again to watch them.

Panam’s gaze is stuck on his ass, but Kerry is looking at her with a small smile at the corner of his lips. The merc gets the feeling he was lucky in hindsight, cause apparently Panam’s charms worked on Kerry like they did on V, despite the fact that few women hold his attention. The young fixer hides his satisfied smile against the pillow, and arches his back more.

“C’mon, he can take it, trust me,” Kerry encourages her and V feels two fingers push inside his hole. He clenches and relaxes around them with a small moan that makes her laugh.

“Can I touch you?” The older man asks the nomad.

“Yeah,” she breathes out and V watches as Kerry’s fingers go to play with her breasts, leaning in to suck on one as he pinches the other. As pleasure rises inside of Panam once again, her movements get a bit more forceful, and soon she is adding more lube and a finger. V curses, pushes back against her because he really wants it, now that they started.

He hears Kerry shift until he’s kneeling in front of V. His cock is still soft but that doesn't stop the merc from putting his lips around it to suckle. His partner chuckles, strokes his mouth with a thumb tenderly.

“Look at you, becoming all slutty for us. You like that?”

V bites Kerry’s thumb softly.

“You can’t imagine how much,” he mumbles, “I only dreamed it so many times.”

Kerry’s eyes sadden for a moment.

“You should have just told us.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Kerry nods, then his blue eyes flicker to Panam and they seem to have a silent exchange before the rockers sigh.

“The things we do for love,” he mutters and V’s heart soars in his chest because this really sounds like a confession. He smiles, gives Kerry a hopeful look and gets rewarded by a kiss.

Panam pulls her fingers out and grips V’s cheeks apart, nails digging into his skin and making him moan into Kerry’s mouth.

“I’m really gonna enjoy that,” she confesses and V snorts, looking over his shoulder to wink at her.

“Go wild, I’ll like it,” he tells her and she shuffles closer, gripping his short hair with a hand, forcing his head back.

“Yeah, you will.”

“Shit, Panam…”

She releases him after biting his shoulder, and he hears her uncap the lube once more, and then the squishy sounds of her hand working over the toy. V forces himself to relax and strains for another kiss from Kerry.

The push is exhilarating. It’s too much, but it’s also just right. Panam goes slow, panting and cursing as this obviously turns her on more than she expected. He can feel her getting all tense, like she is resisting the urge to buck into him.

In and out she goes, something an inch or two, sometimes completely out to lube the dildo once more. When she bottoms out, both her and V moan. Kerry gives them a sharp smile, lust fiery in his eyes.

“Good kittens,” he calls them, all paternal, and V groans again because this is too much. Even in his wildest dream he didn’t dare imagine that. Panam huffs out a laugh and flexes her hips, testing the waters.

V keens and pushes back, asshole spasming around the toy.

“Fuck,” Panam moans, snapping her hips forward. She grips V’s waist and does it again, once, twice, a third time and each time, V lets out a guttural noise.

Panam pulls out completely before getting in again in one long push, making V sag against Kerry’s lap, who pets him gently.

“That’s right, you’re doing great,” he says to Panam, or to V. Both.

It doesn’t take much more for them to build a rhythm. The dildo is huge, and he’s making V’s spine tingle every time it brushes against his prostate. He has taken to licking Kerry’s cock, unable to do much more but needing to have something in his mouth because this is driving him crazy. Panam’s hips move so right against him, she really is fucking him good.

After a while, she speeds up, little thrusts that are jarring because it means V gets no reprieve from the sensations. As he moans continuously, Kerry praises him and caresses his hair, his neck, his shoulders, massaging a bit.

Panam’s nails are really digging into his flesh now, leaving angry red trails behind and making V shudder in pleasure.

“Ok, ease up, he’s close,” Kerry interjects and fuck, he’s right, but V was so deep into his head he didn’t realizes.

He makes them shift so that V is practically sitting back on Panam, arms around Kerry’s shoulders. The man kisses him and wraps a hand around V’s cock..

“Alright, finish him,” he tells the woman.

Panam obeys with a little nervous laugh. She starts bucking into V again while Kerry strokes his cock.

“Harder,” Kerry orders and the merc moans, panting against the musician’s cheek.

“Fuck, yes, ok, take it,” Panam babbles, giving her thrusts more power until she is really going wild and V is holding on for dear life. He won’t last.

“Harder,” Kerry repeats and the nomad whines like she is the one getting railed but she complies and V just can’t breathe. He hiccups, emits a strangled noise before tensing and burying his face against Kerry’s neck. The man pulls him back by the hair.

“Let her hear you.”

So he does, he moans out loud, cries out as the orgasm explodes inside him. V curses, tears escaping his eyes pathetically but he can’t care less when this is one of the most intense climaxes he’s ever had.

He shivers as he comes down, pelvis trembling back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“That’s right, look at you,” Kerry whispers against his lips before kissing him for real. V lets him do it, barely able to respond but whining for more when his partner leans back.

“Ok, you can pull out now,” he tells Panam, who does so very slowly but with the state he is in, V feels it down to his feet and shudders again with a confused noise. Still caressing him, Kerry makes him lean on his back.

“Look at what you did to him,” the older man praises and Panam lets out a wild laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Power of the prostate, babe.”

“Hm, should test that on you…” she replies before tensing and giving him a worried look, but Kerry just smiles.

“If you want, it would be my pleasure, trust me. In the meantime, let’s get you out of that.”

With bleary eyes, V watches them shift until Panam is on her back, letting Kerry pull the strap off her legs. Then he smiles and teasingly runs a finger up from her cunt to her clit and she moans sweetly. The nomad’s legs spread apart on their own volition and Kerry’s smile turns predatory.

“Want me to take care of you?” He asks. She glances at V, who turns to her and uses the little strength he has to push up and kiss her. She welcomes him with a sigh, he feels her relax as they reconcile through the caresses of their lips and tongues.

When they part, V gives her a soft smile, and mouths another “I’m sorry”. She closes her eyes, exhales long and deep but when she opens her eyes he finds her back. She, who stormed Arasaka with him, who fought side by side with him, who mischievously took him for a ride in a Panzer. Panam smiles at him and gives him one last kiss before turning back to Kerry, who’s watching them with hungry eyes.

“Sure,” she says with a grin, tilting her hips in invitation.

This is gonna be a great show, V can tell.

---

You can find the prompt list here.

Every fic will be posted on my AO3 Account here.

#v x panam #panam palmer #kerry eurodyne #Kerry x V #Kerry x male V #male V #Kerry x Panam #Kerry x Panam x male V #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #male v #fic advent calendar #my writing

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tarydarrington · 3 years

Text

(Also on ao3 now, if you prefer!)

These are the facts. Essek Thelyss is a traitor to the Dynasty. He has collaborated with the Cerberus Assembly on dunamantic research. His loyalties are an entirely unknown quantity, and likely nonexistent. He is, above all else, a liar.

Also, he all but lives in the neighborhood now, and it’s very uncomfortable.

Astrid ducks her head down to glare at the pavement as she passes Bren’s place. Last week, on the way to the market, she had made the mistake of taking a peek at one of the windows and made eye contact with the drow. Or rather, with the sun elf she knows is the drow underneath. Why Bren takes the risk of having him over so often is beyond her. Why he agrees is beyond her. If he’s caught, there will be hell to pay - he must know that.

No, there must be a reason. He’s up to something. High-level government spies do not simply decide to stop scheming when their positions change. It’s the magic, she suspects; Bren has put together a fair number of spells of his own design, and anyone inclined to harness the arcane would be interested. Or perhaps he’s bleeding Bren of information about the Assembly. She pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders. He could be learning about her own movements, waiting for an opportune time to strike, and she would never know.

He’s using Bren for something. Of that, she’s certain. And when whatever house of cards he’s built falls down around his shoulders, he’ll cut and run without a second thought.

It’s still on her mind when she makes it to her own doorstep, eyes lingering for a moment on the vibrant, yellow hyacinths in the window box - a parting gift from their time in the Blooming Grove. Astrid had thought they were certainly doomed this past winter, but at the last second, they had sprung back to health as though by magic.

The firbolgs would probably twist that into a metaphor about something or other. Astrid makes a face and pushes through the door.

Wulf is seated in his chair with a book when she enters. She spares him only a passing glance before striding straight past toward the staircase.

“All right,” Wulf calls before she reaches it. “Something’s on your mind. What?”

Astrid lets out an irritated breath as she lets the conversation pull her back into the living room. “That drow,” she admits. “I want to know what his business is with… with this city. He is here far too often.”

She’s already plotting. Contacting either the elf or Bren himself directly is out of the question, but she can pull off some subtle surveillance. The results will not come as quickly as she would like, that way, but it’s the safest route. Spend a few evenings lurking nearby and tail him when he leaves the house, see where he goes. It will give her a lead to follow, at least. She can work from there.

“Thelyss?” Eadwulf says without looking up. “He’s fucking Caleb.”

Astrid's head snaps up. "What?" She rests her satchel on the table before her grip can tear a hole in it. "How do you know?"

Astrid has personally kept eyes their old friend; his treasonous tendencies require it for his own safety as much as hers. But she has yet to come up with that particular tidbit, and spying from the bushes has simply never been Eadwulf's way. Besides, he's claimed time and again to be through with the political game.

Wulf shrugs and flips to the next page. "Asked."

She blinks. "When?"

"Ah…" He looks up from his book, at last, to frown at the calendar on the wall. "A week ago, maybe."

"A week?" Before he can return to his reading, Astrid ducks down into his eyeline with a glare. "You spoke to Bren a week ago?"

"No."

"Then how did you--"

"I spoke to Essek."

She does not at all appreciate the laugh she gets for the look on her face.

“You went to Bren’s house,” she says flatly. “Without telling me. What if he had--”

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Wulf says. “I would never go there without backup.”

“Where, then?” she demands.

“Here.”

“Here?”

He shrugs like it’s nothing, but the way he’s retreated behind his book says he knows he’s in trouble. Essek Thelyss, in their house. If anyone had seen--

“Why was he here?” Astrid presses when he fails to elaborate.

Wulf shifts uncomfortably, and she knows she’ll hate the answer. He clears his throat.

“He was helping me with something.”

She raises an eyebrow. “With what?”

He mutters something under his breath, and Astrid leans closer, eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

Wulf sighs, letting the book whump closed in his lap. “Your flowers were dying.”

Her flowers? She turns back to the door with a frown, as though she could see them through the wall.

“Wulf, my flowers have been flourishing since spring.” They’d had a rough winter, to be sure, but ever since the turn of the season-- oh, no. Oh, he wouldn’t. She braces her hands on the arms of his chair. “Wulf,” she repeats pointedly. “My flowers have been flourishing since spring.”

Wulf meets her gaze head-on, looking unimpressed. “Maybe you should thank him, sometime,” he suggests casually. “They look pretty good.”

“Wulf!”

“What?”

“What if he was seen?”

“Then he was in disguise. Do you think we’re stupid?”

She certainly thinks they’re something. Astrid pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. The headache birthing itself in her temples is bound to take days to wear off. Essek Thelyss, the former Shadowhand, wanted by his own government and under constant threat of assassination from her own superiors, has been tending her garden. For half a year. She doesn’t know what’s worse: that Wulf has been condoning it behind her back, or that she never suspected a thing.

“Fine,” she says thinly, because this is an issue that will take more than a moment’s conversation to resolve. "Thelyss is... with Bren. And he, what, volunteered this information?"

"Told you, I asked."

"You asked if he was in bed with Bren."

"No, I asked if he'd like to get in bed with me."

"Wulf."

"What?"

She groans. "That man is dangerous."

He grins. "Yeah."

"Wulf."

Wulf looks at her skeptically. "He still has those little flowery gloves, you know." He wiggles the fingers on one hand to illustrate. “Tools of a cold-blooded killer.”

She levels him with a glare, but it has little impact. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at her, daring her to ask what he knows she's wondering. She presses her lips together.

"Well?" she asks.

"Well…?" Wulf prompts with infuriating smugness.

Astrid sighs and addresses the ceiling. "Well, did you… what did he say?"

She can hear him grinning. "Told you," he says. "He said he's fucking Caleb."

Astrid has trouble imagining the word fuck slipping between that man's teeth, but the point is clear enough. This farce of a relationship is exclusive. It makes sense. Keep everyone else’s prying eyes away, and the elf is free to pull Bren’s strings in whatever way he wishes.

The gears are already turning. That must be it; she’s more convinced now than ever that whatever he’s up to, he needs Bren on his side. Perhaps he saw the tides changing against him and jumped ship before he could get hurt. Ingratiated himself with the person he thought could provide the best protection. Perhaps he’s manipulating Bren as a means to keep himself safe. It’s what she would do.

“No, it isn’t,” Eadwulf points out when she voices the thought. “Things turned against us, too, and that’s not what you did.”

She frowns, straightening her coat. “I would have,” she says. “If it had been what the situation called for.”

But it does make her angry - more so than she would have expected. Bren has not been hers for years - has not been Bren for years - but that doesn’t make it sit right that someone else is… using him this way. He has always been the softest of them, even when they were children. He was too weak to handle their education, and now someone else is here to prey on that very same weakness. That soft heart. That idiot man who refuses to believe anything but the best of the people around him.

“Astrid.”

Wulf’s hands close around hers, and only then does she realize her nails have dug crescents into her palms. She stretches her fingers out, avoiding Wulf’s gaze as he digs his fingertips into the muscles there.

“You’re very cold and heartless, I know,” he tells her with the tone of one agreeing with a child who has declared herself a unicorn. “Thelyss, though - he’s… soft.”

Her derisive breath of laughter has him rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, okay. The woman who keeps pretty yellow flowers by the window and the man who comes over and tends for them every week--”

“Every week, Wulf?”

“--are both hardened manipulators. Hearts of stone, these two.” He presses a kiss to the back of one of her palms, then lets her hands drop to her sides.

“Ikithon had a garden,” she mutters. Hobbies aren’t everything. People like them don’t change. With a frustrated sigh, she turns back to the door. “We’re running low on fruit. I’m overdue for a trip to the market.”

Wulf sits back with a deep breath as she retrieves her satchel. He doesn’t say another word as she heads for the door, but he doesn’t have to. He knows what she’s really up to, but he also knows there will be no stopping her.

It’s not out of care for Bren that she finds herself lingering discreetly outside his house. If the elf is up to subterfuge, the Archmage of Civil Influence ought to know about it. She ought to root it out as a matter of national security. Regardless of Thelyss’s target, she would have done the same.

Besides, they really are running low on fruit.

In a stroke of luck, the front door swings open after only a quarter hour of waiting. And to her surprise, Bren is not alone when he steps outside. She ducks her head down as they pass, then falls into step behind them.

The two of them weave their way through the crowd a block or so ahead of her, arm in arm like a pair of lovesick fools, Thelyss wearing the familiar sun elf’s face. From this angle and this distance, only snatches of conversation float their way over the din to her; every word is completely mundane, as though the two of them really are the picture of domesticity. Which vegetables should they get for tonight’s stew? Should they pick something up for so-and-so’s son? How late ought Bren to be awake tonight?

It’s quite the act. She’ll give him that.

Then, the two of them stop to examine a cart of apples, and through the ebb and flow of the crowd, Bren’s eyes flick up to meet hers.

It’s uncanny how quickly they slip into their old language. Bren tilts his head in silent question, and Astrid nods with her chin towards Essek. He follows the motion easily, brows knit together apprehensively when he looks back to her. A question he still trusts her enough to ask: is she here on behalf of the Assembly? She shakes her head just once and watches his posture relax almost imperceptibly.

She watches it settle in on his face what her true purpose is. They always have read each other like a pair of picture books.

Bren holds her gaze for a moment longer. The silent request comes across: watch. She crosses her arms over his chest, a signal of compliance. For now.

Breaking eye contact at last, Bren turns to casually drape an arm around Essek’s shoulders. Astrid’s frown deepens at the way the elf twitches instinctively before relaxing into the touch. This isn’t natural for him. Bren should see that. Bren should know that. He isn’t even hiding it well.

But if Bren has noticed the slip, he gives no sign. Instead, he steers Essek about until she can see their faces. Something she refuses to name twists in her stomach at the way Bren smiles down at him.

The din of the market drowns out the sound when he speaks, but Astrid can read his lips. The thing in her stomach tightens. Schatz. Very original. Whatever it is she's supposed to get from this display, he had better deliver it quickly. Otherwise, she'll need to find an alley suitable for vomit.

Then, he kisses the elf on the nose. And there in the middle of the market, his disguise flickers.

Wide-eyed and red-faced, Thelyss snaps the spell back under control almost as soon as it wavers. Careful, Schatz, Astrid reads Bren’s lips - but his eyes read only fondness. Thelyss frowns up at him in reply, but the affection bubbling through is Bren’s perfect mirror. Something catches in Astrid’s chest.

When Thelyss turns away again, Bren catches her eye with a challenging smile. He’s already looked away again before she can glare back with the proper degree of heat. Instead, she trains her eyes on the elf. The little viper is flustered by affection, that’s plain enough. Proof of very little aside from his lack of comfort with such things. The look in his eyes, though… Astrid shakes herself, shoving the image to the back of her mind. It doesn’t fit with the rest of the puzzle, the way he looks at Bren.

But-- there.

Essek’s hand tucks behind his back, and while Caleb is looking the other direction, Astrid can follow the subtle muscle movements that betray spellcasting.

Foregoing subtlety for the moment, Astrid shoulders her way through the crowd closer to the pair. The motions for a counterspell ready at her fingertips. Starting a fight with this many eyes is a bad idea - she’ll need to incapacitate him quickly, make sure that no one sees either her or Bren, see to it that the three of them are teleported as quickly as possible to a secure location where she and Bren will have the upper hand. They’ve been through worse before - they can do it again. Through the bodies still between them, Astrid watches as the elf draws his hand from behind his back, angled toward Caleb, and…

And presents him with a vibrant, orange flower.

The counterspell fizzles out of her grasp. The thing in her stomach begins to claw its way up to her heart at the soft, fond surprise on Bren’s face as Essek tucks it gingerly behind his ear.

Essek Thelyss is a liar, a traitor, and a thief - but an actor, he is not. It shows every time Bren places a hand on his shoulder, every time he brushes their hands together at their sides, every time he leans into the elf’s space and the elf flinches just the slightest bit.

Why, then, is the look on his face when he gazes up at Bren the perfect picture of-- of--

He’s fucking Caleb, Wulf had told her - but that’s not it. That’s not all. Astrid tugs her hood up over her head, ducking into the crowd without another glance. The flow of foot traffic carries her out of the market and down a series of streets she doesn’t bother to register. For a while, the tides of the city buoy her where they will; then, at last, Astrid takes a deep breath, orients herself, and heads for home.

These are the facts. Essek Thelyss is a traitor to the Dynasty, a loose end for the Cerberus Assembly and a liability for herself and those to whom she is connected. She would, very likely, be better off were he to disappear under mysterious circumstances before another sunrise.

But these are the facts, as well. He loves Bren and Bren loves him. Wulf likes him, enough to secret his presence away from her for half a year. The bright yellow flowers in her window box survived to see the frost thaw.

Astrid tucks it all into the file in her head, then closes it and sorts it away somewhere out of sight. She doesn’t trust him - not by a longshot. People don’t change. Not her, and not Essek Thelyss.

Sure, says Wulf’s voice in her head, keep telling yourself that.

She shakes herself, paying no mind to the flowers as she pushes through the front door. It doesn’t matter. But if he wants to continue to throw himself directly into danger by coming here, well. She won’t be the one to make him stop.

She’ll have to find another route to the market.

#critical role #shadowgast #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #mine #mine:fic #if you saw this last night when tumblr betrayed me no you didn't #astrid #eadwulf #caleb #essek #mn

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gioiamin · 3 years

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haikyu boys when you sneak out to satify your craving !!

warnings: pregnancy?

a/n: this is my very first work here on tumblr, pls be good to me. also my first time doing a story using 3rd person’s POV or sumthing. english is not my first language. <3 [do expect some typos and errors]

timeskip! iwaizumi & bokuto

🗯HAJIME IWAIZUMI

He usually hug you when you guys sleep so when he kinda woke up in the middle of the night he tried to reach you but you were nowhere to be found, that's when he opened the lamp and started searching you inside your shared room.

"Doll, are you there?" he opened the bathroom wondering if you're there but he still can't find you.

That's when he remembered your conversation earlier.

"Haji, can we have ice cream today? I really want one" you pouted while you guys are preparing to sleep.

"Not now, doll, it's already 10PM. Let's sleep" he said before kissing your forehead and lying down.

"Okay" you said which is almost a murmur.

Iwaizumi sighed and rubbed his face with his palm, she definitely got herself an ice cream. I mean, that’s suspicious when you said just a simple OKAY.

He looked at the clock before heading out to the nearest store which is just a few blocks to your house.

What store is still open at 2AM?

He tried to call you and the answer? Cannot be reached

"Doll!" he shouted when he saw you going out to the 7/11 licking an ice cream with a plastic in your hand which he though is also an ice cream.

You stopped and looked at him with puppy eyes trying to lessen what you did.

He is heavy panting when he reached you, "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Well, you said it’s late-

"So you decided to sneak out?" he said grabbing the plastic in your hand.

You nodded , still busy licking the ice cream

"Can I have one ice cream?" he asked

You looked at him with a plan running inside your little head, "Only if you forgive me"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Fine. Don't ever do that again." he said seriously.

"Promise" you said to reassure him.

🗯BOKUTO KOUTARO

You woke up at 3 AM when suddenly a craving hit you.

Gosh, i want some nuggets.

"Kou" you tap his shoulder but he only groaned.

You sighed and decided to got up from bed (you don't wanna wake up your heavy sleeper husband) after getting the keys and wearing his sweater, you quickly drove to your nearest Mcdonalds.

Few minutes later, you're happily eating your nuggets without knowing that someone is worrying about you.

"Akaashi, i can't find y/n!" he shouted while his friend is on the other line. All lights are open inside so he can see you.

"Calm down, Bokuto-san" he said trying to calm his friend. "Did you even call her?"

"No, i didn't. I panicked" he honestly said

"Oh wait. I saw her instagram story Bokuto-san, she's in Mcdonalds 20 minutes ago eating a nugget" he explained

Bokuto felt very betrayed right now.

Why didn't you wake him up? What if you got into a car accident while he is sleeping?

Bokuto was about answer when she heard the doorknob.

"She's here, thankyou." he quickly ended the call to face you.

"Really y/n? Sneaking out while it's" he quicly glanced to the clock, "Gosh, it's already 3:55 AM, baby!" he exclaimed but his voice is still soft and you can clearly hear the concern.

"Sorry, i tried to wake you up but you just groaned. I know you're tired" you said, voice getting little by little as you said the last word

He sighed so hard that you even heard it. He sait on the sofa and spread his legs, "Come here" he said tapping his lap, motioning you to sit on it.

You quickly obliged, feeling his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to his chest.

"What's that?" he pointed the McDonald's paper bag that you're holding.

"Nuggets" you happily said and released them inside the plastic. "You want some?" you offered with a nugget infront his mouth

When he opened his mouth you quickly putted it inside.

"It's good, are you craving for some nuggets?"

"Hmm" you nodded

"You should wake me up next time, okay? I don't care what time is it, just wake me up. I love you" he said and kissed your cheeks.

"I love you too" you giggled and kissed his lips.

written: sept. 16/ 2021

published: sept. 16/ 2021

#fluff #fanfic #scenarios #imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#pregnancy #sneaking out

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jpopjdrama · 2 years

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Thoughts for Twenty-Five, Twenty One

Despite posting a while back that I may flood this blog with 25-21 contents due to it being my favorite for the time being, I haven't done that because (1) I didn't have enough "spare time" to browse through tumblr, (2) my tumblr app is having an error for 95% of the time when I tried to access the tag.

However, what led me to write this now is I had so much mixed emotions about the ending that it kept disturbing me and my sleep since I finished watching the last ep last night.

So, there might be SPOILERS (!) as I try to convey what I'm feeling right now.

Recommendation rating: 8/10 (I sincerely want to give it a 10, but I can't)

Will watch again?: Maybe, in the far future. But not right now.

Will be stashed?: I want to, but I can't even look at it now.

The truth is I'm very much confused about the ending of 25-21. Not about the plot, but how I really feel about it. For months now, it has been THE ONLY drama that made me so much interested, it made me watch it while airing. Also, it is the only drama that I've been invested in watching right now.

DRAMA TAG AND EARLY PREVIEWS. The drama tag and early previews really "mislead" me (for the lack of term). It was described for the earlier part as a rom-com and portrayed as being "light". Yes, there were conflicts and sometimes rather heavy topics, but they always turned out to be alright at the end of the episode or the next episode at most. It made me somehow felt safe that it won't lead to something miserable at the end. And that was what it made me clung onto the series: ALL WILL BE WELL.

WHY I FELT NOT OKAY. To be honest, the last few episodes where it started to go downhill, it already felt a little heavy for me. And that gradually increased as new episodes were released. But that didn't stop me from watching because (as I said earlier) I was clinging onto that hope that it won't betray me at the end.

Personally, I have been struggling about my personal growth and current situation that I'm in now. And the series didn't only gave me joy and nostalgia, but also inspiration. The depiction of support, healthy coping mechanisms, determination, patience and forgiveness within yourself - the things that I should learn and appreciate and embrace.

Frankly speaking, it's true. The ending was realistic - that people grow apart. Our time and youth - no matter how happy or sad it was - are fleeting, but they still shine no matter what. If that's the writer wants to convey. But it's not something that I need right now. The ending was like slapping me right across my face that I should still build my wall because no matter how supportive, positive, and determined I am and the people around me are, time can still take away everything from me. And that sad feeling was amplified by giving the other characters the "happy ending". That time was on their side, but unfortunately not on BaekDo's. The worst part? You can't do anything about it - cause that is life. They didn't even become friends after despite being best friends before having the romantic relationship. I agree to one comment that I saw that I would much preferred if they didn't add romance to it if this is how they want to approach it.

I felt so lost right now. I felt like a clown believing that there will be a plot twist like in Reply series. My expectations led me where I am now. And I feel like I can't trust any series for the meantime. Even in Hammurabi, where the court cases were (very) heavy, it gave me so much hope because the main leads portrayed a healthy relationship that pulled through no matter how toxic their environment was. I was planning to marathon 25-21 after all episodes were aired. But I guess, I can't anymore. At least not now that I'm not in a good place. You just don't know how much this bothered and affected me. The scene where they said their last farewell while crying and the last tunnel scene kept waking me up all night despite watching it for one time only. How ironic. Something that kept me looking forward to the next weekends just placed me back to square one.

I'm not trying to tell the writer here what should've been the ending. It's their story to tell anyway. This is just me watching a what-might-be-the-best-drama in the wrong season in my life.

^literally me upon realizing the last episode has already ended with no plot twist

#twenty five twenty one #kim tae ri #nam joo hyuk #2521 #na hee do #baek yi jin #back yi jin

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milfnearyou · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.

“𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4K | 𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANGST. CHEATING. BETRAYAL. SUGGESTIVE. THATS PRETTY MUCH IT THIS TIME AROUND. NGL THIS ISN’T MY BEST WORK AND IS A SHORT ONE SHOT, SORRY! CLICK HEADER FOR HIGHER RESOLUTION BC TUMBLR IS STUPID.

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

“So you just woke up one day and decided you loved me?!”

Your voice was painfully shrill, bouncing against the metal walls and echoing through the elevator shaft. If you hadn't been so furious, you would've cringed at the way you sounded. Considering your behaviour to be completely out of character and rather petty. But it was impossible to think straight. With all the sirens in your mind screaming 'Alert!' causing you to grow defensive. You saw everything as red, wrapped in a series of warning signs. Eager to protect yourself you grew aggressive, fury coursing through your veins and laced with disgust.

The disbelief was evident in your tone, accompanied by the extremely annoyed look plastered on your face. Your eyebrows were contorted together, lightly creasing your forehead as you anxiously chewed on your bottom lip. Your hands were balled into tight fists trembling at your sides as you fought the urge to beat the living crap out of him.

"Fucking answer me Sehun!" You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. You didn't understand him, not taking any of his bullshit words seriously as a result. Had he been telling the truth, had he truly meant every word he said. Sehun wouldn't have just stood there in front of you with nothing to say. The silence he offered simply adding more fuel to the fire that raged inside of you.

"So now you're silent? You weren't this fucking quiet back when you were professing your so-called love to me?! What's gotten into you now?"

Again, nothing but silence. The tall man simply stands there in front of you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants as the elevator continues to rise higher and higher. With every floor, the elevator cabinet passed, the angrier you got and it didn't help that you lived in a high rise apartment. If he continued to act this way you'd be fuming, steam emitting from your body by the time you'd reach your floor.

“Do you even know what it means to love someone? Or do you just throw yourself in any direction that proves beneficial to your selfish well being?” The questions flew past your lips one after another. You weren’t going to hold back either. Pushing yourself towards him, forcing him to explain himself.

You didn't deserve the silence. You deserved proper answers, ones that were absent from the immature man in front of you.

"Answer me right now or I swear to god I'm cutting you off forever," Warning him, you take a step forward to face him closer. Invading his personal space as you stare at him, craning your neck upwards with your arms crossed.

Watching him like a hawk, you attentively wait. Noticing how he seems to take a slight step back, his broad chest heaving up and down slowly. He seems to be nervous or perhaps, flustered? It was hard for you to believe that with all the ways he could've handled the situation this was what he opted for.

Step by step, you get closer and closer towards Sehun until he's got his back pressed against the metal walls of the elevator. It was hard to believe that someone who looked dominant most of the time could be so cowardly.

"I'm not asking again," You state, pressing your index finger roughly against his chest. Physically pushing him around until he's finally had enough. His large hands pressing against your shoulders as he shoves you back, regaining his confidence. Finally, he refutes, silence no longer being an option for him.

“Fuck off! Do you want an answer? Fine, but you don't have to act like such an invasive bitch about things!"

Stunned your eyes widen. You can't tell if you should be offended or impressed with just how much you pushed him but you let him speak. Not saying anything even though he had just called you a bitch.

"No, I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide that I’d fall in love with you! It took me countless days and nights, essentially adding up into months of thinking about nothing except you! Do you know how painful it felt for me? Do you not understand how guilty I felt?!” The tone in his voice is dangerously low as he narrows his eyes at you. It's his turn to match your attitude, fixing his posture and standing tall.

"Oh really? So you only thought about how you felt and not how I would feel knowing about your feelings for me? Sehun, how selfish can you be? You aren't the only person on this godforsaken planet!"

"You don't think I knew that? I know you wouldn't be happy with this but you have to understand that had I kept everything to myself and continued to hang out around you; it would've been both disrespectful to you but also incredibly torturous to me. It was worth gambling my feelings and confessing with the consequence of potentially losing a friend instead of hiding it."

Taken aback, you feel yourself pause and you hate yourself for it. Sehun has a point, he's valid for being upfront about things but there was just one thing that didn't sit right with you. Despite wanting an answer and getting it you curse yourself for falling silent. The hypocrisy of your silence hitting you square in the face but you're not done. You still have one more thing to say.

"What about the fact that you're still dating my best friend? Did you think about how much this would hurt her? No, let me guess, I bet you haven't even mentioned anything to her," Bringing your best friend up seemed to be the major thing standing in between both of you.

Sehun stares at you like he's been frozen in time. His features completely poised and monotone as your eyes scan his face for any sign of emotion. It was still much too hard to accept his words, to trust them and understand that it came from the bottom of his heart. Your anger was now replaced with complete confusion, perhaps even denial as you scoff at him. He was crazy to think you'd ditch your best friend for a man like him.

Sehun only stood there with his shoulders pushed back, his posture relaxed. His orange tufts of hair making him look like a complete clown. His current demeanour was very different in comparison to how defensive he was earlier.

How could he be so hot and cold? None of it made sense with his face being completely unreadable, everything felt bland like a black and white movie. Sehun could scream as much as he wanted but his words would never get through, bouncing behind the screen, staying unheard from the crowd. All these things made it impossible to find the sincerity he had in his words represented in his body language.

The elevator came to a stop with a rather loud ding notifying you that it had arrived on your floor. You take one last look at Sehun battling with yourself on whether or not someone as selfish as him was worth entangling yourself with. But no matter how you thought of it you couldn't accept him. With Sehun came consequences, ones that you weren't willing to risk getting into and that being losing your best friend. Someone who was there for you through thick and thin could never be replaced with a man you'd only known for roughly a year.

He didn't mean anything to you and he wasn't allowed to have any meaning in your life, it just wasn't okay. Betrayal had a greater impact than love, you would be foolish to accept the latter.

Leaving him behind, you step outside of the elevator. Realizing just how much more breathable the air outside the shaft was in comparison to being back inside holed up with your worst nightmare. Your moment of freedom is cut short when you feel his lean arms wrap around your waist pulling you back inside.

He's clinging onto you like a child refusing to let go as he rests his head next to your shoulder. His hot breath brushing against your neck, making you uncomfortable for many reasons that were quite obvious. He just wasn't single nor available and you couldn't let yourself be the other girl.

“Please just—take a chance. I'm willing to cross oceans for you, tear apart anything that stands in my way because I love you. I'll break up with her, she's nothing like you. Why can't you see that I love you?” He rambles, his voice falling soft. Sehun sounds like he's about to fall apart as he speaks into the crook of your neck.

His voice vibrating against your skin, echoing through your mind. Despite his tone being no louder than a whisper, his message came loud and clear. Slowly his plump, soft lips make contact with your skin as you freeze in place watching as the elevator doors slam shut. Moving downwards again you feel like you're slowly descending to hell.

His actions gave you goosebumps as he peppered kisses against your neck. Using one hand to grasp your waist, holding you close to him. While the other cupped your cheek, tilting your head slightly so he could gain better access to your body, his kisses moving down south and landing onto your shoulder. Pushing your shirt slightly aside before gently biting down on your skin causing you to gasp.

Sehun's touch was electrifying and almost hypnotizing, you felt yourself growing dizzy and out of touch with your surrounding. As he continued using his lips to convey how much you meant to him against your screaming mind that yelled at you not to do this to your best friend. But like a fool, you melt into his touch. Lips falling apart, as your chest heaves up and down. The air feels intoxicating as he rotates your head towards him. His lips crashing against yours as you feel like you're about to pass out.

You can't give in, you can't betray your best friend and yet, you feel yourself kissing him back. Your tongue tangling with his, exchanging dirty, secretive kisses. Turning around to face him better you fall into all the places you knew weren't right and that was right into the arms of Sehun's. Intertwining your fingers with his, holding onto him tightly as if the only chance you'd have with him would be taken away.

Now you knew what it meant to be selfish and just how delicious it tasted.

The elevator is filled with the lewd, smacking of the shared kisses between you both. His body grinding into yours as you feel yourself growing heavy. Developing a strong heartbeat where your filthy desires lay. You felt yourself growing wet, shifting your thighs uncomfortably together. Feeling his hand snake down towards the waistline of your skirt, tugging on them.

"You just have to say the word and I'm dropping everything and everyone for you," He says in between kisses as you tilt your head back in pleasure when you feel his fingers slipping past your skirt. Hovering dangerously over your soaked heat. "Do you want to run away with me?" He asks.

You want to say yes. Your body having a mind of its own would rather speak for you but you just can't bring yourself to go through with it. The image of your best friend is hung up in your mind and even though the damage has already been done, you still don't think it's too late to stop.

“I can’t and you know I won’t,” You reply, wincing at how your voice cracks. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, you needed to show him you had control over how you felt. That you were sure you didn't want him but it was all a lie. A lie you told yourself and in return had the truth spoken out loud by the actions of your body.

Sehun knew of this and yet, his peppered kisses come to a halt. The grip he's got around you loosening as his hand slips out of your skirt. You step out of his grasp feeling ashamed, not daring to look at him. Turning around and staring at the doors instead. Fixing your shirt you crane your neck from side to side trying your best to calm down. Bringing a shaky hand towards the elevator buttons and clicking for your floor.

You can feel Sehun's gaze boring holes into the back of your head.

"I don't understand. Why can't you just let me love you? It's not that hard to just give me a shot. I can give you the world, give you all the happiness and security you need in life."

"--Let me be the man that protects you, that cherishes you. I know it's hard because of her but...don't we deserve to be happy?" He pleads, his voice wavering. If you had turned around to face him you'd see his lips quivering. His dark, brown eyes are glossy with tears threatening to escape from the tiny apertures of his tear ducts.

But currently, it's your turn to fall silent. All because you know that despite him falling at the seams, begging you to love him you know that he'll only go back to being the same once he's got you twirling around his dainty fingers. His norm being the same silent person as always, emotionally unavailable and confusing as always. Plus, who's to say he won't just ditch you like he's doing to your best friend?

"It's your turn to answer me," He pleads but you ignore him. Thanking the timing of the elevator for opening right at the end of his sentence.

Quickly stepping off you pray that he doesn't snake himself around you again because if he does, you don't know if you had the power inside to fight him off again and thankfully he doesn't. Sehun leaves you alone watching you get out of his view, the sound of your Chelsea boots clicking against the hallway floors until suddenly you're just gone. A wave of heartbreak washing over his feelings as he realizes that he just can't sit here and do nothing.

He won't go back to your best friend, he doesn't love her and in fact, he never did. It wasn't his choice to hurt her like this but he couldn't help but fall in love with the wrong person. So he chases you, chases the love of his life eager to satisfy his selfishness and have you by his side.

The consequence of dealing with your best friend could come later but first, he needed to convince you once and for all that he was the only good thing in his life. Your best friend was to be replaced.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃: 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐅𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔©︎

#this was ass: not proofread properly.#oh sehun x reader #sehun angst #sehun x reader #oh sehun angst #oh sehun suggestive #oh sehun smut #exo angst #exo fanfic #exo x reader #i don't know tags: bye!#lmk what you think.#solange is in the mountains: queue!#sehun smut #sehun suggestive

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ambivalent-anarchy · 3 years

Text

Body

Part 1 of 2

Part 2

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Anon requested- can I get a one shot where the reader does the body positivity trend with the new megan thee stallion song and the reader is insecure about how ppl will react to it?? Most importantly how peter will react to it?? K thanks

Awww I love doing smol readers and where Peter's actually the one that has it together lol sooo thanx for this

The TikTok is that new body positivity trend with that Megan Thee Stallion song. Couldn't link it because tumblr acts weird about links but part 2 will have a video for Peter. Also reader will be 18 (senior in high school) cuz some people think minors shouldn't participate in the trend lol

A/N: Either a motivation fairy hit me in the middle of the night or I'm really just that bored to the point where I had no choice but to get my motivation to write back. Either way I'm happy lol. Enjoy! Thanks to @yumings and @kelieah for helping me feel confident in this lol

Will definitely be a two parter🙂

---------------------------------------

Body oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy-

You'd finally finished editing the video.

It was a simple, short collage of all of your favorite selfies and pictures that showed off your body well. There was a new trend going around on TikTok and when you saw it you just had to jump at it headfirst.

People would take their favorite pictures of themselves, ones that showed off their bodies just the way they liked, and they'd put it to the sound of Megan Thee Stallion's song "Body".

You looked through your entire phone gallery to find pictures that you were confident enough to post, some you'd forgotten you even took in the first place.

When you were done, you threw in the simple caption that everyone was using.

Heard we're using this sound to show off. My turn then😜

Yeahhhhhh, the caption sounded much more confident than you actually felt.

You actually thought about deleting it from the minute you posted it. Insecure wasn't even the word for it. And even with your followers there to hype you up, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. So, albeit hesitantly, you went to your friends for support.

The first person you showed was Michelle.

"You killed that," she said in math class as she passed you the phone underneath the table so that the professor wouldn't see.

"Thanks," you said. "I was honestly kinda nervous about it." You noticed her incredulous look and explained yourself, toying with the loose strings on your jacket. "Like seriously, I don't wanna fish for compliments, it's just that there are so many better ones out there."

Michelle gave a lopsided grin. "That's just you being insecure, you dork," she retorted. "You look hot." She gave an uninterested glare at the teacher when they told her to be quiet. Then she turned towards you with a smile. "You shown Peter yet? I bet he'd agree."

You shifted in your seat nervously and MJ immediately caught on. "What, you don't wanna show him?" She gave you a look when you took a while to answer. "Dude he's literally your boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he'll like it."

"MJ, we haven't even-" you looked around secretively. "-we haven't even taken our shirts off in front of each other yet. There's literally a pic of me in my sports bra and I.." You shrugged, a little embarrassed by the conversation topic. "I-i just don't know how he'd react."

You and Peter were a fairly new couple and were taking it slow. You'd only ever kissed, cuddled, and held hands so far. Plus, you were a major causal clothes wearer. Sweatshirts and jeans, those were your specialty. The two of you were in no rush and you were both fine with that, but you had no idea how he would react to seeing pictures of you like that.

And, though it wasn't the most feminist approach, you kinda wanted to impress him. Was that so bad?

MJ, forever the voice of patronizing reason, rolled her eyes at you. "So, let me get this straight. You're not fine with your boyfriend seeing sexy pictures of you, but you're okay with literal strangers seeing you instead?"

"Look, I know it's-"

"No, no I totally get it," she said with a sympathetic smirk, before laughing. "I just wanted to show you how dumb it sounded though."

The bell rang, signaling the end of class.

"Look," she said, standing up and getting her things. "You have nothing to be worried about. Peter practically worships the ground you walk on. He'll love it."

When you showed Ned, he genuinely didn't give a shit.

"Oh my God, there's a new Megan Thee Stallion album?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"I have to listen to it right now!"

"Yeah okay, but do you like the-"

He was already plugging in his headphones before you even finished your sentence.

You showed Harry next. If anyone was gonna rate you unabashedly, it'd definitely be him.

He was the only friend you had in your lunch period, so you met up with him every day. Towards the end of lunch that day, you'll pulled out your phone and asked if he wanted to see the video. He enthusiastically agreed.

He watched the short video with an amused expression, bopping his head to the music all the while.

When it ended, he handed you your phone back and gave you a high-five. "Damn girl!," he praised. "Just throwing it out there, if Peter fails you, I'm hella available."

"Heh, thanks." You smiled as you felt your entire face heat up. "Ya think he'll like it?"

"What, you haven't shown him yet?" You shook her head, giving a nervous smile. "Oh-" he nodded confidently. "-he'll love it. Trust me."

"Are you sure?," you asked.

"Yeah," he responded with a shrug. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because he's not-..he doesn't really seem-" You couldn't find the right words for it. "I dunno, I just really want him to like it!"

Harry scoffed. "Look. Let me tell you a little secret about Peter Parker," he snickered. "Or practically all guys for that matter."

"Okay?," you said, curious as to where this was going.

He smirked. "You remember when he introduced himself to you at my party last summer?"

You nodded.

"Well, hon..." Harry lowered his head to where he was whispering in your ear. "Your personality wasn't what he was noticing from across the room.. catch my drift?" He chuckled when he saw you blushing as you caught where his eyes had wandered. "Just sayin'."

Seeing your incredulous expression, Harry continued. "Peter likes to act like he's not checking you out every second of the day, but I promise you he is. That little "I'm so respectful and bashful" crap he has going is complete B.S."

You smirked and rolled your eyes as he pulled away from your ear and kept walking. "You're an ass."

Harry shrugged. "True, but I'm a realistic ass." The alarm on his phone sounded which marked his time to start heading to his next class. Standing up, he smiled down at you. "Seriously, if I could take back all the time spent listening to Pete go on about how good you look in your jeans, I'd be one well rested guy."

You rolled your eyes, but it betrayed the small smile growing. After all, he wouldn't be Harry if he wasn't a flirtatious dweeb. "Bye Harry."

"Show him the video, [Y/N]. He'll love it. You know I'm right."

And then there was one...

Later in the day, you were talking with MJ after school, waiting because Peter always insisted on driving you home because chivalry was not going to die as long as he was alive to keep it going.

When he finally showed up, the first thing he did was take you by the hand and give you a quick peck on the forehead.

"How are you guys doing?," he asked as your little trio started to walk.

"We're good," you chirped, ever so conscious of the phone in your pocket that you were suddenly very hesitant to pull out.

MJ noticed and nudged you. "You got anything you wanna show anybody, [Y/N]?," she asked with a smirk, causing Peter to look at you curiously.

You stayed quiet, but MJ still wasn't putting up with it. "I think you may have a video that you made..."

You remained silent and Peter looked at you, a lot more confused now. MJ frowned. "Um... cough.. cough."

Peter laughed and stopped walking. "Okay, what am I missing?" He looked to you and when he didn't see your expression falter, he looked to MJ. "What's going on?"

Michelle shrugged. "[Y/N] wants to show you a dumb TikTok she made but she's scared about how you'll react."

"Michelle!," you scolded.

She shrugged again. "What? You weren't going to say anything anytime soon."

"A TikTok?," Peter questioned. "Cool, which one did you do this time?"

You could feel your face heat up for the hundredth time that day. "It's a...um.." You stared down at the ground. Jesus, this was hard. "..It's a body positivity trend."

His eyebrows went up at that. "Oh, well um.. is it cool if I see it?," he asked.

You blushed. "Sure." You pulled out your phone and opened the app. When you got to the video you quickly shoved it into his face before you had a chance to second-guess yourself.

Both you and Michelle watched Peter's face as he watched the video.

His cheeks immediately turned red but his expression was unreadable. He had to have watched it over 5 times before MJ pulled the phone out of his hand. "Helloooo, earth to Peter Parker?"

She snapped into his face several times and he started to blink wildly, apparently being pulled out of a trance. "I...um- heh.."

You gave a small, nervous smile. "..did you like it?," you asked, growing confused as stared at you, his expression still the same. "Um, Peter?"

Suddenly, he smiled and let out a little chuckle. "Sorry... just..." He laughed again and scratched his head, unable to keep eye contact. "You're just- like.... really hot."

You blushed. Fuck. "You're not just saying that are you?"

"No, really like-" He looked back at the phone. "...Damn." He bit his lip. "How on earth did I get so lucky?"

"Okay, can we please get in the car before I throw up?"

The two of you looked at an uncomfortable MJ with embarrassment riddled on your faces. "Yeah, totally," you said with an awkward cough. "Sorry."

"Nice video [Y/N]," Peter murmured bashfully, opening the door of his car for you, his face still beet red. "Really nice..."

Tagging: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @snarky--starky, @sovereignparker, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @eridanuswave, @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr , @kidney9-9, @gwenvrse

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. ��

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders x reader #200 followers appreciation #thank you for liking my work

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straydawg · 3 years

Text

when the rain stopped.

summary: killua's tears are the rain that falls. (or, a short fic where killua can't live on with gon dead.)

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Rain was falling.

You didn't know what moved you to come so far out, only to lay with your back saturated against the cold concrete as the rain washed over your body. It bruised your face with every shard of ice-like rain. There was something so violent, so excruciatingly heart-rending about the downpour. The sky was thundering in wails of misery. Raindrops surged from the sky, crashing into one another, plunging onto roofs and cars. They held no consideration for where they would land. They only poured down.

It had been like this for hours now.

Your hair was matted and soaked. You reached your hand up to the sky, feeling the pounding rain crush it. Tears, indistinguishable from the rain, streamed down the sides of your face and mingled with the rising puddle beneath you. 'Were those your tears? When had you begun crying?'

You could no longer see the sky above you, as the rain kept falling down with such fervent and passionate intensity you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut. There was no reason to cry or even be there at all, but you could feel the sky mourning.

No.

Someone was grieving.

This had to be a real person. This was desperation, heartbreak, and loss all in one.

A deep cry of thunder lamented around you, so deafening the buildings shook. Perhaps you would drown here- if you didn't die beneath the sheer pressure of the storm first.

Just what happened to cause a thunderstorm charged with this much grief?

The cries turned into whimpers, short bursts of lightning illuminating the black sky.

It was radiant.

With every fluoresce of lightning, you saw another's life flash before your eyes.

"Gon!" He shook the lifeless boy in front of him.

"No no no no NO! Please Gon," Killua screamed, holding Gon to his chest and rocking the both of them.

Tears splashed onto Gon's eyelids, but they weren't his.

"Idiot, wake up! You can't die here. You can't die yet."

"You're meeting your dad for breakfast tomorrow. Mito is planning for you to come back home in the summertime. You're just a kid...we're just kids..."

Killua clung onto him tighter with every word, but Gon fell limp in his arms. He clenched his fist into the dirt, shoving sharp debris underneath his fingernails.

Killua refused to believe it. The person he had spent years adventuring with, the one who had helped him see his worth, the one who had saved him. He couldn't be gone, just like that. No, Gon was not the type to give up, and he would never back down in a fight even if he were outmatched. He would always come out with a smile and a, "hey don't worry about me! We did it, didn't we?"

But not this time.

Killua's sweat was sticking to Gon as he tore himself away to gaze at his friend. The bright moonlight shined on Gon's face, wet with Killua's tears. It was too bright for a night like tonight. He smudged the dirt off the boy's cheeks.

"Gon. Please wake up. D-Don't be so selfish. I.. you're the most precious thing to me. You're my dearest friend. The world.. it can't turn if you aren't there." He sniffed.

A tear escaped from the corner of Gon's eye.

"K..K.."

"Gon!"

"Killua.. thank you..." Gon coughed, cracking open his eyes. "From the day I met you and everyday I've been alive since...I knew I'd never find someone else like you. You made me li-"

Killua couldn't hold back the hailstorm of sobs that wracked his body as he heard Gon's words. He was still alive. He wouldn't let him die.

"Gon, don't talk like this is the end! I'm going to save you," he began scooping up Gon's body, ready to take him somewhere- anywhere that wasn't there.

"Let me finish. I want to hold onto this last moment...with you. Please."

Killua reluctantly set him back down on the dirt, laying him gently against a wall. He never let go of his hand, in fear that Gon would fade away from him in front of his very eyes.

"You made my life worth it. Ging said.. He said to enjoy the little detours in life because those are the moments you treasure the most. You never were just a detour, Killua. You became my purpose," Gon's eyes glistened. His light was fading fast.

Those few words were apparently too much for him, as it sent him into a violent fit of coughing. There was blood oozing out from his mouth. Killua quickly wiped off the redness with his fingers and grabbed onto his friend again.

He held Gon's forehead to his.

"Don't leave me."

No response.

Killua felt an exhale of breath touch his face. He didn't dare move.

After a few moments had passed, Killua found the strength to lay Gon onto the ground, and place his own longsleeve shirt over the boy for warmth.

Gon only wore a tank top. He'd be chilly without it.

Taking some steps back, Killua stared at the boy laying on the floor. Gon looked like he had shrunk, so weak and devoid of life.

There was nothing left in Killua, but a throbbing pain and emptiness.

Falling to his knees, he let out a series of gut-wrenching screams. His sobs filled the night just as much as the stars in the sky did. He beat the floor until his hands were bloodied and mangled, unleashing strikes of lightning to the earth with every devastating blow. Hopefully, the lightning would ruin him too.

What even was the point anymore? There was no longer any light left to illuminate the dark.

Once Killua had bled himself dry of all tears and every emotion there was, he weakly looked upon Gon's form.

Hadn't he said that the world would not turn if Gon wasn't there? But why was it still going? Why was he the only one suffering this cruel loss? Why were there people who were going about their lives right at this very moment, not knowing Gon had just died?

His world could not go on without Gon, smiling him on. Pushing him on. So— he had made his decision.

Memories of all their priceless times together played in Killua's mind like a movie, as if he were experiencing each one of them again for the first time.

The time they first met—

Gon hadn't even questioned Killua's line of work. He had become his first ever friend without a second thought. No one had ever put that much faith in him before.

The time Gon brought him to Whale Island—

Killua had been shocked at Mito's generous hospitality. He had learned what a real home was like, and Gon had asked him to continue travelling with him. It made him feel special, although he had never admitted it out loud before.

The time they began Greed Island together—

He never did tell Gon the real reason he followed him there. It wasn't just to find his dad. Maybe he was embarrassed, or scared too, but the truth was obvious. He loved Gon. That's why he stayed.

The time he saw Gon lying in that stupid hospital bed—

Killua wasn't sure if he felt hurt, angry or betrayed, but the one thing he knew is that he was being torn apart. He was breaking to pieces seeing Gon dying slowly in front of him. He swore he would save him, and he did.

But he couldn't save him today.

Sitting up a little straighter, Killua took a deep breath. Turning his nen against himself, he sent the electricity force of 900,000 volts straight to his heart. Enough to kill a tortured assassin like himself.

Killua fell to the ground next to Gon, and shakily reached for his hand. Once he had made contact, he sighed and closed his eyes.

He hoped and prayed that this would count as Lover's Suicide. Maybe, if the universe cared at all, and if some force out there pitied these tormented children enough— they could have a chance at life together. Souls forever intertwined in the afterlife.

Then the rain stopped.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

❝ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ

ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟʟʏ

ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴜɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴀʟʟ

ꜰʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ

ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ

ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏʀɴ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ

ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ❞

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

author's notes: hello! i'm new to tumblr and hoping to improve my writing here and make new friends! :) this blog will be multifandom, (bsd, hxh, aot, etc.)

requests are open!

#hunterxhunter #killugon oneshot #killugonangst #gonfreecss #killua zoldyck #fanfiction #i don't know how to use tumblr tags omg help

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rose-riot-johnson · 4 years

Text

Hi my Tumblr Peeps😁 Today I would like to post my Fanfic about Tamaki Amajiki this time. I worked on this months ago (which is earlier this year) and I figured now's the time for me to post it. I hope you enjoy😃👍

Going to Tamaki's house for a chat (Tamaki Amajiki x reader)

Genre: Angst and cuddling (in the end)

You and Tamaki Amajiki met and have been friends about a couple years ago. With all the obstacles that was happening last year, you thought a new year would be brand new changes. Well brand new changes happened alright. But unfortunately the brand new changes didn't come for the better. Infact those brand new year changes came for the worst.

Those bad new year changes have been happening a lot lately. Your mom treating you as if you're the problem child, which you are not and that you did nothing to get treated like this. Your mom even threw a fit over every little thing you do or didn't do right away when she wanted you to. Your mom is disliking Tamaki more as you and Tamaki have been hanging out with eachother for a whole year.

Then when the middle of the month came, you got a relaxed after pampering yourself then after your mom came home she says "(female reader name), I've heard some of the fast-food restaurant employees that they saw Tamaki with another female. Infact I even saw him with another female and I also saw him giving her things. If I find out it's true then you won't be allowed to hangout with him anymore!" You asked, "Who?". Then when you heard the female's name you got mad. "And I expect you have a talk with Tamaki too, young lady!" then you told your mom, "Fine I will because I'm mad about what you said and the fact that you mentioned her name!".

Your mom then said,"You know what! I won't say anything anymore since everytime I say something about Tamaki especially this you get all huffy and puffy with me! And just remember! If you get hurt it won't be my fault and it'll be no1 else's fault but your own!", as she was guilting you about Tamaki. "Fine then! I'm gonna go to get some air then since that's exactly how you feel mom!", you said. Then your mom goes, "And I'm stressed all because of you!", while still trying to guilt you. And as you're about to walk out that door you shouted back,"Well what do you think you're doing to me! You stressed me out too and I'm sick and tired of you and certain others trying to put Tamaki and I against eachother and also being bias against Tamaki and not being supportive of my friendship with Tamaki!", then after you walked out of that door you slammed the door.

It took only 15 minutes for you to walk from home to Tamaki's house. When you finished your walk to Tamaki's house you knocked on the door. After a few knocks on the door some1 opened the door and it was Tamaki. While he was being his usual self he said,"Come in...", then you walked inside Tamaki's house.

Tamaki can tell something upsetted you. "Did I do something to upset you, (female reader)?",Tamaki asked sadly as he saw tears started to come out. "Are you giving her gifts,Tamaki?! I mean why the hell did you give that girl special treatment?! You know I hate that girl you're going out with!". Then he asked, "What and who are you talking about?" as he started to get sadder and confused. Then you said, "You know who, Tamaki! My mom told me all about it! Rumors are spreading about you!" then you mentioned her name, after that Tamaki knew who and what you're talking about. "Now I understand why you're making these accusations," Tamaki said a he held his head down.

Tamaki then explained, "You see (female reader name), the girl you're mom claimed she saw me giving stuff and I was around, I did give her my phone number and I did give her stuff, but I was sleeping with her nor the stuff I was giving her are really gifts. I her my phone number because she is currently homeless because the huge apartment building burnt down a week ago and I want to help her the others out of that situation she's in get out of that situation and the stuff I gave her because those are things she and others who are currently in her predictiment right now. I would never do anything like that, (female reader name).". Then he continued, "I care about you too much to do that to you. Your mom went too far by accusing me of the sleeping around that I didn't do. I'm sorry if I betrayed you by helping any1", then Tamaki shut his eyes as tears came out of his eyes. You were shocked about that Tamaki only wanted to help others out of their situation especially about why all those people are homeless. Then you rushed to hug him.

"Why are you showing me your kindness now? Weren't you angry with me a few minutes ago?", Tamaki asked with his eyes opened as he's shocked and puzzled now. "Tamaki. I'm sorry I acted this way. I should have trusted my instincts that you didn't do this to me. I should have trusted you more. I letted my mom get the best of me and I took out my frustrations out on you when I shouldn't have. Please forgive me?", You cried as you kept hugging him tighter as tears became in controllable. "(Female reader name). What are you talking about. There's nothing to forgive. I should have came to you and told you about this earlier. And I promise come to you about things more from now on.", as Tamaki put his arms around you to give you hugs.

Tamaki then asked as you and Tamaki kept hugging eachother.", I don't know if it's a good idea to ask you this but would you like to spend the night here," as he got nervous. "Of course I do silly. You helped me calm down and I want to get away from my mom tonight anyways.", you said. So you both went on the couch watching your favorite movie series and the both of you cuddled together mostly the whole night.

The End

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robanilla-writes · 5 years

Text

Ten Songs. One (1) Fic.

Content Warnings: Violence, a lot of blood, injuries, blacking out/loss of consciousness, crying, trouble breathing, drug abuse, prescription pill abuse/overdose, non-consensual themes, forced taking of voice, implied sex (dubious consent), suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, ambulance, hospital, possession, sympathetic deceit, depression tw, yelling, screaming, arguing, cursing, descriptions of pain, general angst, neutral ending. Please let me know if I missed anything!!

Heed the warnings.

Pairings: Romantic Logince, Platonic Logicality, Platonic Moxiety, Toxic Moceit, Platonic Character!Thomas×Patton, Sensual/Sexual Virgil×Figment!Sleep(Remy)

( I'm sorry that there's no cut! Tumblr mobile is being a jerk >:[ I made sure to tag it #long post)

1 - Despicable by grandson

“I'm doing you a favor… If I were you, I wouldn't love me neither.”

Roman watched as the diamonds welled up in his eyes, spilled over and rolled down his porcelain cheeks. They were cracking in despair, lips parted as if to speak out against his decision. The warmth that he had gathered, surely hoarded over the years, was dissipating with every second they stared at each other.

Roman took a step back. The sound of his sword leaving it's sheath was loud despite the pounding in their ears.

“Don't.”

Said as delicately as a feather falling, and yet Roman shook with the weight it added to the air. He couldn't look at him.

Not anymore.

Roman said nothing, lifting his sword up to Logan's chest. The door behind him opened, invitingly, but Logan didn't dare look away from the man he couldn’t save. Roman's fire was smothered to ash, but Logan knew that he was wrong, that he was worthy of love and longing…

Roman's eyes dulled further, and for a second Logan thought he saw a flash of silver.

2 - Worst In Me by Unlike Pluto

The ground was unyielding to his desire to sink further. Unforgiving in its flat embrace. The shadows offered more comfort, he thought bitterly.

Patton looked nowhere in particular. Simply out, simply still, simply because. In his line of vision were leather boots, standing innocently, only betrayed by the blood that covered them.

The owner of the boots sighed, turning to leave.

“I really am sorry, my dear, precious Patton,” Deceit said in exaggerated remorse. “But you truly do tend to bring out the worst in me.”

Patton only wheezed, his vision spotting black. He heard sharp steps walk out of the room, leaving him in his mess. His thoughts seemed to whisper, “finally…”

“Free, at last.”

3 - Everybody Gets High by MISSIO

He didn't remember, at the moment, why he was in Virgil's room. His muscles refused to move easily, though, and his throat was dry, eyes glazed and blurring. He glanced over to make sure no one heard him when he sighed, voicing his regrets.

The empty bottles of whiskey around the room were further evidence of the day before. Ripped open packets of pills and used condoms littered the already cluttered floor. Seeing it all, he felt… disgusted.

And then he remembered.

Virgil shifted where he lay in his bed, waking slowly.

“Rem?”

Remy hummed in response, too fatigued to move.

Virgil looked over to him and visibly relaxed, only to tense up again at the smell. He groaned.

Remy couldn't help but empathize with his sentiments. It's been weeks since their first night in that room, and really, they hadn't yet accepted that they would wake up there every morning.

They had long given up on trying to leave, though.

Virgil whimpered, breaking Remy out of his thoughts. He forced his limbs move and wrap around him, fending off the shadows that pained him.

Virgil held him tightly, and in that a moment, Remy realized he had to cry. In his line of sight, was another set of drugs and alcohol, having manifested in the night. Remy felt his tears fall as he reached for them.

“Rem, please… I don't want t-”

“Shut up.”

“We're not going to fucking die! It doesn’t help!”

“You don't think I know that?!” Remy burst into tears at that, gripping Virgil closer. His own torment was beginning to turn in his stomach, heat and despair violating his body. “What other ideas do you have, huh?!”

Virgil hissed, his skin crawling and heat starting to coil in his groin. “I don't know!” He cried, “I don't know, okay?! I just-” Virgil screamed as the pain spiked suddenly, so much worse than it used to be. He shoved off of Remy and reached for the new bottle of whiskey, twisting the top off and guzzling it as if were his life source.

Remy tore into the pack of fresh pills, popping in half of the pack, and throwing the rest at Virgil. They caught it, passing the almost empty bottle to Remy.

And thus started another day of regretting, of loathing. The stench of sex and sweat permeated through the odor of alcohol and blood. The moment of sanity, of reprieve, was gone.

Faintly, you could hear the shadows laugh.

4 - I Don't Even Care About You - MISSIO

Deceit gasped, the hold on him letting go enough for him to breathe. His eyes snapped to the monstrosity before him.

“Let him go!”

They didn't blink.

“This isn't what I wanted at all! You said you would help! You said you wanted what was best-”

Deceit's voice left him, leaving him screaming in silence.

They shrugged.

“I do want what's best for Thomas. I thought you agreed with my methods?”

Deceit tried to yell. He tried to shake his head and stomp his foot and exclaim vividly that he was wrong about him.

They only scoffed.

“Whatever, I don't even care about you. You've done your job.” They flicked their hand tiredly, and Deceit weakened. “Only a bit longer, and Thomas won't have anything to worry about anything anymore.”

Deceit fought hard against the numbing pull, but he wasn't strong enough. He never was.

And as his essence was once again locked away, he realized he may never will be.

His eye glowed with the wrong color.

5 - Happy Pills by Weathers

Thomas grinned at the sight of the rainbow after the rain, the music pumping in his ears leading him to dance on his nightly run. Across the way, he saw a family of deer stand up in alert of his presence. He only laughed and waved, wondering how he never noticed the way they existed.

A bubble of giggles lifted in him. The deer ran away as he neared closer still.

He rounded the corner, and danced down another street until he reached his apartment. He panted, out of breath from the exercise.

Some time later, he found himself on his bedroom floor. He chuckled, shrugging at this new setting. It didn't matter that he didn't remember opening the door, or locking it again. It didn't matter that the sun was gone now. He had just blacked out again.

Thomas got up and undressed as he prepared for his shower. He tried to ignore the pills on his bedside table, but he caught a glance. The pressure in his head increased slightly. He took off his ear buds and set his music to blast throughout the room, drowning it out and pushing it down.

He sang, giving his hurting lungs no rest, and then sang some more. His muscles were tired from moving. so. much...

Thomas had to look in the mirror when he passed it. Something threatened to burst from his skull at the sight of his reflection.

He turned off the lights and closed his eyes, shrugging it away. Everything was fine.

At least, everything would be fine.

When Thomas opened his eyes again, he stood beside the bed, looking directly at the pills.

He smiled, that pressure tearing up his insides and urging him to do something more. His tears wiped away his smile, as he thought, "this is it."

It wasn't enough to be happy all the time. He grabbed the bottle, and went back to his bathtub.

The music hadn't stopped.

6 - Wires by The Neighbourhood

Logan urged himself to move. To stop crying, to leave, to shake his head, to fight, something.

The Roman he knew was gone.

“I'm sorry-”

He was cut off, Roman slicing his sword up and away, finally shoving Logan out of his stupor. He gasped, crumbling to the ground in a heap. He clutched a hand to chest, feeling warm blood seep from the new wound.

Roman grimaced, knowing what he had just done. He couldn't do anything about it, though.

“Leave!”

Roman swung his sword wildly, and Logan finally realized he was in danger.

He yelled, scrambling away and causing his sword to stab into the wood floor. Right where Logan had lain.

“GET OUT!”

Roman growled as he pulled his sword out. Logan rushed to his feet, just barely dodging another wild swing.

Logan found himself losing his air, his blood now dripping on the floor. And yet, he tried again.

“You don't have to do this!” Logan jumped out of the way too late, getting nicked in his right bicep. He shouted in pain, “Stop!”

Roman hesitated in his next swing, their eyes connecting for a split second.

Roman was scared.

And then he wasn't, his left eye flickering silver. Logan cursed.

“Fight it, Roman!” Logan ducked, Roman missing a lethal swipe to his neck.”You ARE worthy of love! You are not worthless!”

“SHUT UP,” He screamed, charging towards his lover, catching Logan off guard.

Roman shoved him down to the floor, tripping over himself. Logan hit the wood hard, seeing stars and black spotting his vision from the pain in both his chest and the back of his head.

Roman hissed in pain, and from this close, Logan, logical in essence, noticed the wires wrapped around him. They began to reach for him. In that moment, Logan had to make another choice. Had to do something.

He reached up with his good arm, gripped Roman's head and pressed their lips together.

7 - GRRRLS by AViVA

They sat on a throne of their own making, looking through dozens of eyes. To their right, stood the shell of Deceit, broken and still. To their left, the shell of Creativity manifested, standing on guard for a battle they no longer had to fight. The dust hadn't settled yet, though.

Deceit's snakes and ropes slither around them, no longer bright gold. Silver wires hang from the ceiling, a few wrapped around their arms. They welcome their presence, along with the Anxiety's shadows, which made the room look both too small and never ending.

They sigh, watching as Logic attempts to recover Creativity, losing too much blood in the failure. They watch as Logic finally runs. The shell of Creativity beside them solidifies.

Now, now, where was Morality?

Seeing through the eyes of the shadows, they see Morality sitting against the wall. They hum, somewhat curious as to what he'll do next.

The lights of the mindscape flicker dangerously, and they quickly shift to look through Thomas’ eyes.

It was so close. Less than an hour now, and Thomas will never be unhappy again.

Unbeknownst to them, Patton heals.

They stretch, blinking back to their own sight. Their room shifts as Thomas winks in and out of consciousness.

8 - Crossfire by Stephen

Logan stumbles through the halls, taking more and more breaks as his energy depletes. He couldn't sink out, and that in and of itself should have been frustrating, but he was panicked beyond belief. The lights were flickering, and in Roman's room, they had completely gone out.

His steps are hurried, but he leaves a trail of blood behind him. The shadows are always one step ahead of him, and though Logan can see that the hall ends, his vision blurs. He stops before his own door, trying to get inside the center of logical thinking, hoping to get his sense of rationale back and solid, but his door wouldn't budge.

His whine morphs into a groan, and he pounds at his own door. The shadows delight in his pain, and push in closer around him.

“N-no,” Logan gasps, his adrenalin running low.

He had to find Patton.

As if he heard his thoughts, Patton's voice echoed down the hall. It was also in pain, but Logan followed it anyway, hoping whatever had caused the pain was gone.

The lights shut off for an entire second before flicking back on.

“Lo...Logan..?”

Logan picks up the pace. “Patton??” he yells back, “Patton!” He can hear his heavy breathing now. “I'm… I'm coming,” he says, suddenly getting dizzy.

Patton hiccups. “There's so… so much blood, Lo. I'm… sorry.”

Logan makes it to Patton's door, and sure enough, his room is covered in splatterings of shining crimson. Logan mostly overlooked it, focusing on Patton.

Are…you okay? What…happened?? Logan shook his head, figuring that those questions were useless at the moment. “Can… can you heal?”

Patton looked at him knowingly, seeing the unspoken questions in his eyes, but then noticed the blood in Logan's clothes and the pain in his stance so he simply nodded and prompted him to come closer.

Logan felt relief trickle down his spine. His energy so near empty that he ends up crawling to Patton.

The lights no longer stay on for longer stretches of time, and constantly flicker. Patton squints as he focuses on Logan's wounds.

“Thomas...”

Logan swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “He's… losing consciousness...”

“He's dying.” Patton whispered, not wanting to believe it.

Logan squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that Patton was right. There was a difference between fading light and flickering light.

“I couldn't save Roman. And he...”

Patton hummed, his own diamonds building in his eyes.

“You- You tried. I wasn't able to find Virgil.”

Logan cursed. “We lost him early on, didn't we.”

Patton's voice wavered. “I don't- don't want to believe it… but I think so.”

“And your injuries?”

Patton blinked, finished with Logan's slashes. He focused back on himself. “Deceit.”

“Wait, what?” Logan's brow scrunched up in confusion, “But I thought he was-”

“Logan… don't.”

Logan wanted to say more, but let off. Now wasn't the time. Logan got up, testing his scars.

Patton watched him stand, sighed as more tears dripped off his chin, and reached up for some help. Logan took his hand and lifted him off the ground. Patton wasn't fully healed yet, but it would be enough for now.

“We need to make Thomas call 911.”

---

Patton and Logan don't know exactly where they're going, but Logan suggests following the “corruption”: the wires, the shadows, and other silver ropes.

Together they fend off the thoughts, holding tightly to each other as an anchor. Thoughts of freedom and no more worries in death plagued the walls of the mindscape. Thoughts of no one caring, no one hurting anymore.

It'll be better with you gone.

You won't hurt anymore.

This is what you wanted.

Patton is whispering fervently, “Falsehood, falsehood, falsehood-” much to the shock of Logan, who never thought such a phrase would bring comfort.

At some point, they come upon Virgil's room, his door almost completely overcome by shadows. Patton hesitates on his footing, pulling Logan to a halt.

“Patton, please, we already-”

Just then, a loud, high-pitched moan could be heard through the door, followed by a wail of agony. Logan and Patton share a distraught look.

Patton reaches out to knock on the door, but the shadows hiss and lash out in retaliation. Patton has to tear his hand out of the mess of corruption, stumbling back into Logan's chest.

Logan sighs, then rights Patton and pulls him away from Virgil's door. They would have to save him later.

9 - Not Gonna Die by Skillet

Soon enough, the corruption becomes too thick to walk through without touching it, and since they couldn't sink out… well, they didn't have many options.

They hold on to each other tighter as they plough through the gunk head first, and are immediately consumed.

From their throne, they watch as Logic and Morality appear before them, hand in hand.

“Oh. So you're alive.”

Patton got his control back first, but could only gawk at the scene before him. He begins to shake. Logan comes to with a start.

“Roman!” Logan cries, going to rush forward.

Patton stands his ground despite his shudders, tugging Logan back and away from the trap of darkness on the ground.

Logan gasps, “oh,” quietly, upset.

Patton is trying not to stutter as he speaks, but he can't help it.

“You- You- You can't let Tho- Thomas die.”

“Why should I listen to you? You were always bring Thomas pain and worry and heart ache. I, on the other hand, am trying to completely rid him of his worries-”

“Falsehood!” Logan shouts, having refocused on the matter at hand. “You think in absolutes, completely disregarding the nuance of life. Of course he will not worry when he's dead! He'll be dead.”

They scoffed. “That's the point, lover boy.”

“But- But- but what about his friends!” Patton interjects, “His f- f- family? What about all the- the- the dogs he hasn't pet yet??”

They roll their eyes. “Friends have other friends, family won't care, and dogs aren't worth it.”

Patton gasped, thoroughly offended.

Logan snarled, “All of that is inherently incorrect, especially in Thomas's case. If you truly cared for him, you would know this.”

That ticked them off. Within seconds, wires and ropes and shadow encased Logan, and he was locked away. Patton starts, stepping away, and almost into the darkness as Logan was forced to become nothing but a shell right before his eyes.

Patton couldn't find his voice, long enough for the lights to go out for 5 entire seconds- and then he screams.

And the corruption withers at the sound, receding slightly. Patton notices, and so do they. Instinctively, they try and shut him up, take away his voice- but Patton isn't done with his screech. The corruption is scared to touch him, his pain not from a source of they were familiar with.

The throne begins to crumble.

Patton is trying to sink out with all his might, screaming not just with his lungs but with his heart and his mind, and just when he thinks he can't scream any more, the lights are back on.

Outside, Thomas gasps, realizing just what he's done. He hurts, he hurts so much, and his stomach is burning and that pressure is building and pushing and pounding-

He reaches for his phone, and he calls 911.

Inside, Patton tires, growing silent, growing limp. The throne was destroyed, but it only left a very furious, very confused side to stand before him, the hate rolling off of them in waves.

Patton sighed, tired and hurt, but relieved.

“No… he's not… not gonna die tonight,” Patton rasps. “I won't let you win, Depression.”

Depression lets out a guttural yell, and shoves Patton into the darkness.

They can't do anything to convince Thomas to cut things off before the ambulance’s siren could be heard rounding the corner to his apartment complex.

10 - Remembering Myself by Stephen

Thomas woke up in the hospital, an IV drip in his arm and all sorts of wires connected to him. He blinked groggily around the room, slowly recognizing the forms of the people sleeping heavily around him.

His family.

Memories come pouring back. Thoughts and emotions and beliefs. He felt remorseful and guilty and goodness was he hungry. But he also felt… anxious. He felt relief. He realized that he somehow, survived.

He was alive.

And at the foot of his bed, sat Patton, looking at him with a sad smile.

“Heya, kiddo,” He whispered, “You woke up.”

Thomas paused for a second, wiggled his toes, then shrugged.

“Yeah… I guess so..,” he murmured. He frowned. “I don't know how I feel about that.”

Patton nods, looking around the hospital room. “Yeah… I'm sorry about that.”

Thomas hums lightly. “I don't think it's your fault. With all the lies I told myself these past few months…”

Patton shook his head. “No. While he did help with it, Deceit never wanted this to happen. He's self-preservation, not self-destruction.”

Thomas glared at the wall in confusion. “Then…”

Patton looked away and scratched his head.

“Remember when your therapist said you only had anxiety?”

Thomas nodded.

“Well, kiddo, they weren't completely right about that.”

“Oh.” Thomas leans back further into his pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Oh, you're awake!”

Thomas looked down from the ceiling, a kindly nurse now standing where Patton had appeared.

Yes, he was awake… but so what? Now would start days of intensive therapy and treatment. Hard work, and more bumps…

“It's worth it, kiddo,” Patton's voice said within him, “You've got this.”

Thomas smiled sadly.

Within him, the corruption had receded some. Enough for Patton to get Virgil out of his room and Remy back to the Imagination. Patton wasn't strong enough yet to unlock the other's shells, but they were fighting. Depression wasn't gone, far from it, but with Thomas getting proper help and constant love and support from (most) of his family and friends, there wasn't much they could do at the moment.

Patton hasn't stopped feeling tired since his scream, and honestly had accepted that he would continue to feel tired for a lot longer, too.

Oh well. It helped to have Virgil, at least, who needed hours of tending to to finally, finally ease whatever was tormenting him.

As time went on, Thomas became more and more aware of his toxic thought process, and allowed room for his healing.

But then starts a new beginning for Thomas, and there was a long way to go.

----

This fic is dedicated to @logince-fantasy and @im-basically-logan

#long post #cw long post #long post cw #robanilla-writes #my writing #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #angst #fanfic #tsfic #suicide #depression #sympathetic deceit #violence

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