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#the second one sucker punched me in the gut and still does every time i watch it
agentmmayy · 2 years
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august rotation
sorry for the little delay in posting this! school started up and it’s been hectic, but here’s some of the top songs i had on repeat during the month of august and boy was it a hot month for music 
hold the girl- rina sawayama: this song makes my ears orgasm!!!!!!!!!!! the vocals!!!! the BEAT!!!!! the lyrics!!!!! teach me the words i used to know, reach inside and hold you close, i won’t leave you on your own it’s about healing now and healing your younger self and trying not just to hold onto to who you were but to comfort them and hold them close. the entire song is a love letter to your inner child. everything about it sends me through the roof but especially the absolute magical moment between 3:17-3:30 HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!??!!?!?!?!! INSANE. BITING AND RIPPING THINGS AND CRYING!!!!!!!  
it gets dark - sigrid: this song is so punchy i LOVE it. it’s about finding your own path and self and making a life and reaching those little pitfalls and stumbles but still having hope and learning lessons through them!! it’s about it getting dark so you can see the stars!!!! definitely a montage-worthy song. could definitely picture myself walking down a street or in a moving vehicle/train/bus at night listening to this 
the boys of summer - first aid kit: i love first aid kit so much and honestly? this is how this song was supposed to be sung. no i don’t take criticism. it’s achingly sweet and soft and nostalgic for that last breath of summer august chased away. 
out of my head - first aid kit: imo this is their best song to date. they just keep getting better and better. i couldn’t group it with the previous one because of that. it deserves to have its own little paragraph for me to talk about it. the instruments, the vocals, the lyrics. they know just when to pull back and push harder and it makes for suuuuuch a good listening experience. also the harmonies are *pinches earbud wire like pacha* so good. sometimes you DO have to get out of your head to truly see yourself and wonder who you are and where you’re going. stuck inside my dreaming, falling behind shook me. unrelated but i feel like this is a song i’ve heard in the background of my dreams before
shadows - bears den: @preux-chevalier put me onto this song and i haven’t stopped listening to it since. first of all the strings throughout are gorgeous. i’m always a sucker for a violin. second of all- the devotion woven into every line of this is breathtaking. it’s so earnest and loving and yeah i DO want someone who wants me and all my shadows
if it’s not god - maddie zahm: listen. i was attacked. wig? snatched. it captures that wrestling with religion and beliefs you grew up with and finding your own identity and what/how you want to believe. the line in particular what father picks a few just to leave the rest? SCALPED me. holding onto blorbo-ing this for the tags. but the cover art??????????? HELLO???
lucid dreaming - alice kristiansen: this was just rude. still haven’t recovered. never will. it has the rawness very few songs have that just guts me to the core and scrapes everything out without remorse. i had to sit quietly for a bit and just stare at the wall after my first listen. every lyric hits so fucking hard. the entire song is a repeated sucker punch to the stomach. it leaves me winded and aching. i can’t pin point a favorite lyric or else i’d be putting the entire song on this post but this one in particular made me lose my mind: are you tired? are you sleeping? cause i woke up with your ghost again. but the lyrics aren’t the only part doing the heavy lifting in the song because alice kristiansen’s voice is so delicate and the way she sings every line... literally no one else could perform this song as well as she does and that’s that. 
the watching silence - michael & michelle: this duo has the most delicious harmonies and songs that simultaneously hurt me and comfort me. the chorus is pure perfection and i’ve caught myself singing it multiple times when it’s stuck in my head
canyon moon - andrew mcmahon in the wilderness: talk about songs that make me get up and dance!!!!!!! i literally can’t help myself whenever i listen to this song and for that reason i simply cannot play it whenever i’m working or in the studio. andrew mcmahon delivers banger after banger and this is one of the best ones. i crank that shit up!!!!!!!!!!!!!
dance away the pain - number one popstar: got read to filth by this. i enjoy how hopeful it is and ofc it’s an absolute bop but a very specific one. as @whatdoyoumeanif said, it has sad twerking and disco ball vibes. the type of song you hear for the last call in an empty karaoke bar 
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mellowswriting · 2 years
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promises kept
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pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader
word count || 2,739
summary || sequel to I could never forget you
content || Din being adorably nervous, more (sober) love confessions, best friends to lovers, making out and grinding like a couple of horny teenagers
a/n || me, far too in love with touch starved and needy Din??? never. 
Din Djarin Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist  |  Library blog
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The first thing Din registers when he wakes up is a dull throbbing in his head. Pain thrums along with his heartbeat, pounding and reverberating in his skull. It must be dehydration because the rest of his body feels fine. Great, actually. Except for some serious cottonmouth, he hasn't felt so free of tension in forever. The pain he usually carries between his shoulders has dissipated and for the first time in months, he feels genuinely peaceful.
The second thing he registers is warmth. The warmth of body heat and gentle exhales against his bare neck, and the memory of last night sucker punches him right in the gut. Din wants nothing more than to pull you closer and bury his face in your neck, to take in the way you smell and taste. He groans internally at the thought and before he can help himself, his cock twitches in interest. The pants he wears does nothing to hide his shame and he knows he has to get out of there before you wake up and see him like this.
If there’s one thing he’s sure about, it’s that you sleep like the dead. The only time he has successfully woken you up without trying was when he accidentally blew a fuse and literally set the old ship on fire. Din moves so slowly that it takes forever for him to slip out of bed without jarring you. He tucks his pillow to your chest, a poor excuse for the firm warmth of his body, but you snuggle into it anyway with a deep, sleepy sigh. Din pauses at the sight of you, of the woman he loves curled up in his bed - right where you belong. He can barely believe how everything changed last night.
You love him. The thought alone is enough to make him breathless. Some self-deprecating part of his mind wants to convince him that it was all some hallucination from the bacta, that his mind tortured him with a glimpse of what he wants most before ripping it from his hands, but the way you spent the entire night wrapped around him tells him otherwise. You had been so sweet, so giving in his weak state, and he can’t help but feel embarrassed that you saw him like that.
That embarrassment eats at him as he eases the ship into flight and turns on autopilot. He tries to focus on cleaning his blood out of his armor instead of the heat that rises to his cheeks every time he thinks of how he just could not shut up last night. It was all true, every damn word, but the way each of his closely held secrets just poured out of his mouth with abandon makes him cringe internally. It’s senseless, really, being embarrassed when you had returned his affection with surprising grace and honesty. All he wants to do is hear it again when he’s sober and the air isn’t shimmering around him.
“Good morning, Din.” The sound of your sleepy voice makes him freeze. He didn’t even hear you approach him, too lost in his thoughts and insecurities. He watches you sink into the seat next to him, still dressed in your pajamas with the blanket from his bed wrapped around your shoulders. “How does your leg feel?”
“I meant it.” Din blurts in lieu of an answer, spitting out the words before he can lose the courage. “Every word. I’m sorry it took that for me to say it, but… it wasn’t just the meds. I meant it.”
You smile at him. It’s the smile he loves, the bright and genuine one you seem to only give him. Those smiles are a gift, something he cherishes and seeks out any time he gets the opportunity. “I know. I meant it, too.”
The tight grip of fear relinquishes its grip around his chest and finally, his lungs can inflate and his mind can race with the possibility of it all, of you. Everything he's ever wanted sits at his fingertips, grinning at him from mere inches away, and there's no stopping himself from pulling you close, right into his lap. Your surprised laugh is music to his ears but it's the ease with which you settle into his lap that really has his heart singing. As if you were made to fit him, you sink into his embrace and complete him - two halves of the same soul.
“Say it again?” Your voice drops into a whisper.
“I love you.” Din murmurs, cheeks aflame. “I always have.”
“I love you, too.” There’s a brightness in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat. In all the times he’s imagined this, the moment he finally managed to say the words that would change your friendship forever, he didn’t think it would feel so… simple. He expected intensity and the very real (and terrifying) possibility of heartbreak. Instead, it just feels right. Like the final missing piece of the puzzle has fallen into place and he can finally see the full picture in all of its beauty. “I want to kiss you, Din. Can I?”
In all the time he’s known you, you have never pushed his boundaries or violated his privacy, ever protective of his creed as if you had taken the vow yourself. Din has always admired that effortless respect you give him and with anyone else he would say no. There would be too many variables out of his control to even consider it, but with you… there’s this instinctual trust that never fails to be proven right time and time again.
“Only if I cover your eyes.” Din’s tongue flicks against his lips at the mere thought of finally feeling your lips against his. After all this time, he almost can’t believe this is really happening. “Let me blindfold you and I swear I’ll never stop kissing you.”
You’re already nodding before he’s finished speaking, already slipping out of his lap and running off to find something adequate to tie over your eyes. Din can’t even suppress his laugh at your eagerness. In a flash, you’re right back in his lap with a soft strip of black fabric that you place right in his capable hands. He isn’t a man that busies himself with metaphors, but even he can’t miss the trust it symbolizes, given so freely and without hesitation.
Din wraps the fabric over your eyes and ties it at the back of your head firmly, careful not to catch your hair in the knot. “Can you see anything?”
“Not a thing, I promise.” Your voice has softened despite your excitement. This is a big deal for Din and you know that. There’s no rush, no haste to expose himself, and he finds himself in awe of your patience and understanding for the millionth time. The fact that you have never violated his trust only furthers his resolution that you are it for him. Someday, you will see his face. After you’ve exchanged vows, and perhaps taken his last name, he will give you everything.
With a rallying deep breath, Din reaches up and pulls his helmet off, immediately disoriented by the shift in his senses. The synthetic sight and sound of his helmet work well but it’s nothing compared to the real thing, especially with you so close. The smell of your shampoo is the first thing that hits him. He’s caught hints of it before through the hindrance of his helmet and without anything in the way, he can appreciate it in its entirety. It’s very you, complex and floral.
There’s a slight shake in his hand as he traces the curve of your cheek. Fuck, your skin is so soft, even more than he imagined it to be. Din doesn’t know much about soft, never got to experience it in his life of bounty hunting and heavy beskar, but he does know to appreciate it. To appreciate you and the way you lean into his touch, the way you sigh and smile all happy as his palm cups your cheek.
The first brush of your lips against his is unfamiliar but he welcomes it warmly. Din’s cheeks flush with his inexperience and despite the nerves that flutter low in his belly, he pushes forward to kiss you more firmly. Your fingers wrap around his wrist and for a mere heartbeat, he’s worried he’s done something wrong, but you just settle closer and help guide him into something fluid and easy. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to have you there in his arms.
“You’re good at that.” He whispers with a breathless chuckle. You just hum, sounding all too pleased with yourself, and his hands fall away from your face as you trail off course to kiss along his jaw and - oh. Oh, that’s nice. Din tilts his head to give you more access and a shiver dances up his spine at the warm caress of your lips along sensitive skin that has not been touched by another since… well, long before he can remember. He knows he could spend the rest of his life reveling in this feeling. “M-Maker, you’re really good at that.”
“Yeah? You like that, Din?” You whisper. Your attentions dip lower, gracing the corded muscle of his neck with the barest hint of your tongue. That’s all it takes for him to feel like he’s losing control. The best bounty hunter in the known galaxy, taken down by a love confession and the tease of a lover’s tongue.
“Dank farrik, girl.” Din curses as he tries to anchor himself with the flex of his fingers at your waist. He can feel that telltale interest stirring in his belly and he knows it won’t be long until you notice it as well. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
“Do you want me to stop?” The tease has dropped from your voice and in its place, a sense of genuineness has risen. You don’t want to push him too far too soon, but little do you know, he’s struggling not to grip your waist to hold you nice and still so he can grind up into your tempting heat.
“No, no, I just…” Din flounders, searching for any way to say it that doesn’t make him sound as desperate as he feels - and failing. His hips jerk slightly without his permission and fiery embarrassment licks a path up his neck to light his cheeks ablaze. “Fuck, I just need you. You feel so good like this, I can’t help it.”
“You feel even better,” You sound so breathy and just as needy as he feels. Fuck, Din can’t help himself, can’t fight the pit of need that rips open in his belly, and his fingers dig into the plushness of your thighs. All of that strength painstakingly built through years of hard labor keeps you right where he wants you, right in the perfect position to grind his cock against the apex of your thighs.
Din swallows your gasp in a harsh kiss, an air of frantic need thickening the room until the rest of the universe fades away into nothing. Your fingers find a home in the thick curls at the base of his neck as you meet every roll of his hips, a rhythm quickly forming through the haze of desperation. It’s all teeth and tongue and wandering hands, the thin layers of fabric doing nothing to hinder how fucking mindblowing it feels. If anything, it makes it that much hotter; entirely unable to wait any longer, not even for the few moments it would take to bare yourselves to each other. It adds a wickedness Din has never felt before, but he’s addicted the moment he sees the darkening patch of fabric in the light gray shorts you wear.
He wants to tell you how beautiful you look, how perfect you feel writhing in his lap, how he can’t wait to split you open on his cock and watch you fall apart for him over and over, but you’ve stolen his voice. The immaculate image of you bracing a hand on his shoulder and letting your head fall back as you catch your breath leaves him breathless. Your breasts bounce with every harsh breath, every grind of your hips, and Din finds himself fascinated. Without a bra to get in his way, he lets animalistic impulse guide him to palm them as gently as he can muster. A surge of pleasure rips through his belly at the softness of you in his hands.
The sharp bite of your nails in his shoulder makes him grin something feral and those greedy hands rip at your shirt, unwilling to go a second longer without the taste of your skin on his tongue. The fabric tears like it’s nothing. Before you can do much more than gasp at the sudden cool brush of air against your skin, Din’s tongue flicks out to tease your nipple. One of your hands abandons his shoulder to bury in his hair and hold him close, a silent plea for more that he gives into without a second thought. His big hands splay across your back to crush you impossibly closer.
“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop,” You pant. The warmth of his lips enveloping your nipple and sucking makes you cry out, sharp and keening for more. Din ruts up into you harder, his thighs burning with the effort, and he knows he won’t last much longer, not with how good you taste, how warm you feel against him.
“Cum for me.” He growls, his fingers replacing his mouth against your breasts. He pinches the bud between his thumb and forefinger, jaw slack as he watches you fall apart for him. Your grip tightens in his hair and the pain melts into pleasure, pools low in his belly and leaves his teeth slightly bared. You’re so fucking gorgeous and it’s the sight of you like this that really sends him over the edge, his hips stuttering to a sharp stop as his head falls back into the seat.
A sluggish, sated feeling washes over him. Judging by the way you curl into his chest and press your face into his neck, you’re in the same boat. Without even thinking, Din’s hands pet up at down your bare back, memorizing every ridge and dip of your spine, and he feels more at peace than he has in a very long time. You’re practically purring in his lap, nuzzling into his neck like a pleased little kitty, and knowing that he’s made you feel so good brings a lazy smile to his face.
“How’s my girl?” Din murmurs.
“Perfect.” You sigh sweetly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He kisses the side of your head, his lips brushing the fabric that covers your eyes. One day, someday soon, he will make love to you without the hindrance of stealing one of your senses. The urge is hard to resist. He wants to bare himself to you, body and soul, and whisper those vows in mando’a, the ones that would make him yours forever. But he doesn’t want to rush this along.
Din has wanted to marry you for so long. He wants to court you properly, the way his buir taught him all those years ago when he was being taught the traditions of his people. He’s planned to slip away to your home planet and have a ring crafted for you ever since you told him about the ring your father gave your mother. You spoke of it with such fondness that he can’t help but want to exchange rings with you. It may not be a part of the Mandalorian marriage tradition but he would love nothing more than to wear a symbol of his bond to you.
“You know, you never answered me earlier.” You murmur sleepily. “But I’m assuming your leg is alright, considering.”
Din huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m all fixed up, thanks to you.”
“Mmm, good. I guess you don’t mind if I take a nap, then?” You’re already nodding off, he can tell just by your voice.
“Go ahead, sweet girl.” Din encourages as he pulls the long discarded blanket back up around your shoulders. “I’ll be right here when you wake.”
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looooooooomis · 3 years
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Somebody’s Baby
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a stu macher x fem!reader one shot requested by the lovely @slasherscream​ 
I try to shut my eyes, but I can't get her outta my sight. I know I'm gonna know her, but I gotta get over my fright.
pairing: Stu Macher x fem!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: s m u t, longing, fluff, angst, oral, teasing, honestly I went off (my bad)
Stu Macher never really did stand a chance. At least not when it came to you.
He was putty in your hands, whether you knew it or not. He’d do anything for you, everything for you – even if that meant taking a backseat to Billy Loomis. He had to admit, it was gutting to watch you and Billy interact the way you did. The two of you were close – hell, the three of you were close – but there was something about you and Billy that seemed to just…make sense.
And, for the most part, Stu was okay with that. For the most part being the key words. Because, fuck, he’d be a liar if he said that tonight of all nights wasn’t bothering him. It was a night not unlike any other. The three of you had decided on a movie that Stu couldn’t really bring himself to care about all too much as you and Billy harped on and on about whatever it was the two of you were talking about, but it was your attitude that was rubbing him the wrong way.
You were distant tonight. You were cold. You seemed to smile real big whenever Billy would make a comment about the movie but if Stu said a goddamn word it was as though he’d sucker punched you in the gut. It didn’t feel angry, or at least he didn’t think you were angry, but there was something off about the whole damn thing and it was driving him mental.
You were tucked away in the chair with your knees curled up into your chest, frowning at a particularly bloody scene on the TV, a seemingly important one too, but Stu couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He was far too busy trying to discern what the lines on your forehead meant, what the furrowed brow and small, barely-there frown on that pretty face of yours meant. Had he unknowingly done something wrong? He didn’t think so, but stupid shit came out of his mouth all day long so, he supposed, it wasn’t impossible.
But there was a niggling feeling in his gut that told him that couldn’t be it. You weren’t mad or annoyed, you were cold. You were distant. It was as though you’d barricaded yourself away from him and done so with purpose. But why?
Why, why, why?
“It’s eight, Stu,” Billy muttered, far too engrossed in the movie to bother looking his way. “Didn’t you have to be at whatsername’s by eight-thirty?”
Glancing down at the time on his watch, Stu stretched out his long limbs and chanced another look at you only to find that your eyes were solely focused on the wall just beyond the television. For a moment, he remained still, waiting for you to do something. To look at him, to make a quip about his date, to do literally anything besides ignore him, but when your stare remained cast ahead, Stu sighed and stood up to his full height. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He griped. “Think she’ll put out?”
It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood or, at the very least, get you to crack a smile or roll your eyes, but when all you did was continue in your stare-off with the fucking wall, Stu’s stomach fell.
What the fuck was your problem tonight?
“Tact, fucker. Y/N is right here.” Billy rolled his eyes but shot him a small smirk. “And if she has a brain, don’t count on it.”
“Hilarious,” Stu mocked. “You guys need anything before I go? Some water? Some beer? Handful of condoms?”
“Fuck off,” Billy cracked a grin. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” He gave Stu a knowing look, being sure to keep his mouth shut around you in fear of letting anything regarding their little charade slip.
“Me?” Stu feigned hurt. “Never.”
Once again, he waited for you to say anything – a goodbye, at the very least – but when he got nothing in return, Stu merely rolled his eyes and walked out of the house.
You, on the other hand, remained stoic as ever as you blinked back a flurry of tears daring to spill out of the corners of your eyes. Your heart was in your stomach and your nails, which had been digging into your palms for the better half of the evening, carved out tiny half-moons into the sensitive flesh as you fought back every urge you had to scream and yell at the idiot for leaving you yet again.
The sound of the front door shutting was enough to make your body relax just enough for a few stray tears to roll down your cheeks. You were just so mad and so incredibly hurt all at once and, while you should have been used to it by now, it never got any easier watching that tall bitch of a man you’d grown to love over the years walk out for yet another date with another woman who was not yourself.
“You okay?” Billy asked, lulling his head towards you from his spot on the couch. He was the one person in the world to know your true feelings about Stu Macher and, while he’d never admit to it out loud, you knew he was oddly protective of you when it came to Stu’s idiocy, especially where his dating life was concerned.
You swallowed hard, not quite trusting your voice in fear of breaking down in front of him. So, instead, you remained silent and barely nodded. Was it hot in here or was it just you? You suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe as you sat in the dark room with Billy to your left and Stu now long gone. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, squeezing your palms yet again. Deep, calming breaths.
You heard Billy sigh as he paused the movie. “Y/N,” he muttered, his tone careful, “how’s he going to know how you feel if you don’t actually say shit about it?”
Through the thick blanket of tears still gathering in your eyes, you focused your glare on the dark-haired man. “Fuck off,” you barked out, “like it’s that easy.”
“It is,” he shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”
“The idiot has a date every week, Billy,” you hissed, “am I supposed to show up with a bouquet of fucking roses declaring my feelings as his tongue’s down some other girls’ throat?” With your emotions at an all-time high, you stood up from the chair and raised a shaky hand to anxiously toy with your hair. “I mean does he have to parade his shit around here the way he does? It drives me nuts.”
Billy remained quiet and still as he watched you pace in front of the tv. He’d seen this frenzied look on your face only once before, but he knew what was coming next. It wasn’t often that you let your feelings finally bubble over to the brink of explosion, but if your current state was any indication, he was about to witness a breakdown.
Standing up to his full height, Billy quietly walked towards you and placed his hands on either shoulder, holding you in place as his brown eyes searched your own watery gaze. “Hey,” he cooed, brow puckered. “Stu’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t see what’s in front of him.”
You chewed on your lip in an attempt to contain the sob desperately clawing its way up your throat. “I can’t watch him do it anymore, Bill,” you finally said, barely above a whisper. “It just hurts too much.”
It wasn’t often you were met with the soft side of Billy Loomis, but you cherished those moments – though so far and few between – each and every time. With a sigh, Billy wrapped his arms around your shoulders and tugged you close. He said nothing, though, because what could he say? Stu was a fucking moron when it came to you, he knew as much, but uttering those words at a time like this would only hurt you more.
You sniffed, your tears bleeding into the cotton of his white t-shirt. “I swear he—”
“Wow,” Stu’s voice rang out into the silence of the room. Snapping your head towards his sudden appearance, you froze in Billy’s arms, terrified of just how much he’d heard. At first, he seemed to just stand there for a second, staring at the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms with a resigned, almost defeated look in his blue eyes. But all at once, in typical Stu fashion, that serious undertone slowly morphed into an almost amused sneer. “You two move fast, huh? Guess I should’ve grabbed those condoms.”
You rolled your eyes, barely hearing Billy’s sly comeback as you gently pushed him away. That heaviness in your chest that had made you cry only seconds prior was now a raging fire inside of your chest. The audacity this big, dumb, ass of a man had.
“Hilarious, Stu,” you griped, sniffing as you walked back to your chair. “Forever the comedian.”
“Hey,” he held his hands up in surrender. “No shame in it, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t interrupt shit,” Billy said. “And you know it.”
“What are you even doing back?” You snapped, glowering across at the idiot. “Or did you get bored of this one already?” You made a show of looking down at your watch-less wrist. “Five whole minutes, that’s got to be a new record.”
Stu pretended to laugh. “I forgot my wallet, ice queen,” he grabbed his wallet off of the table but continued to glare down at you. “What’s your problem tonight, anyway? You’ve got a stick shoved so far up your ass it’s practically coming out of your—”
“I wouldn’t go there,” Billy warned, flicking the play button on the remote. “Stop while you’re ahead.”
Stu barely glanced at him. “Nah, Billy,” he shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch closest to where you sat. “I’m curious. Can’t a guy be curious as to why a broad suddenly decides to give you the cold shoulder?”
“I warned you,” Billy merely shrugged.
“A broad?” You growled. “Get fucked, Macher.”
“What is your issue?” Stu reiterated. “I’m serious. You’ve been acting like a—”
“I’m not getting into this with you.” Pushing yourself off of the chair, you stormed passed both men towards the front door. “Enjoy your date, dipshit.”
Stu watched you go in utter confusion but before he could get up to follow you and continue this entire fiasco, Billy smacked him upside the head. “Leave her be, idiot,” he merely said, not tearing his eyes away from The Exorcist. “Let her cool off.”
“Cool off?” Stu asked with a furrowed brow. “Cool off from what? You two got that heated that fast that she stormed out because I came back inside?”
A long, deep, heavy sigh escaped Billy’s lips as he – yet again – had to pause the movie. His eye twitched in irritation as he surveyed the almost dopey look on Stu’s face. “I just want to watch this damned movie and it’s like a fucking soap opera with you two.”
Stu blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“You seriously don’t know, do you?” When all he received was a blank stare from his friend, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. “You’re even dumber than you look, you know that?”
»»————-¤————-««
It was a few hours later when there was a casual knock at your front door. Your parents were gone for the night and, as you glanced at the time, your stomach gave a nervous twist. It was nearing midnight and, while it was a Friday and you were by no means tired, just who would be knocking at your door this late at night eluded you.
Debating on whether or not to answer, you remained firmly situated on your couch as you eyed the front door in disdain. Maybe if you waited long enough, they’d move onto the next house and your life could be spared for another night. But, before you could get too much hope on the matter, another loud knock erupted from the door. This time, however, followed by an all too familiar voice.
“Hey dipshit,” Stu’s muffled voice rang out, “open up.”
“The fuck?” You whispered in confusion before making your way to the front door. Sure enough, as you unfastened the lock, there he stood. Stu Macher in all his glory. His eyes were somewhat wild as he silently stood on your front porch, soaking you in from all angles as his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat. For the first time in…well, ever, it appeared Stu was at a loss for words.
“Stu, what the hell?” You asked. “My parents could have been home do you know how late it is?”
“Yeah,” he simply said, not moving an inch from where he stood. “But this couldn’t wait.”
You blinked. “What couldn’t wait?” You asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if this was some weird prank that he and Billy thought up. “Come inside, you’re freaking me out.”
“I—” His words seemed to die on his tongue. “I just need to know if it’s true.”
You frowned. “If what’s true?” You racked your brain for a possible answer but came up empty. “Did something come up on your date or something? If it’s about that rumour with me and Matt Sewinski, I promise you that’s not true. The guy’s a creep.”
Stu shook his head but his eyes remained glued to your face, unblinking. “No,” he simply said, “and I didn’t end up going out with Heather.”
You wrinkled your nose. “I thought it was Sarah tonight?”
Stu shut his eyes in sheer annoyance. “Heather, Sarah, whoever the fuck it was,” he opened those blue eyes open again and the raw intensity inside of them made you take a small step back. “I didn’t go.”
You swallowed hard and suddenly felt a wave of nausea overcome you. “Why?” You gulped out.
Stu licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He was yet to step foot inside your house and between the maniacal look in his eye and the chilled breeze seeping in through the open door, you shivered absentmindedly. “I talked to Billy.”
Four words. Four tiny little words was all it took to make the room around you spin on its axis. A cold sweat broke out across your chest as you averted your eyes to the wall directly beside his head. Maybe if you didn’t quite look him in the face, you could get out of what was about to become an incredible awkward, painful situation. With your breath trembling, you swallowed again and tried to find your voice. “About what?”
Stu cocked his head to the side. “Y/N,” he warned, “cut the shit.”
Another painful gulp. Your throat felt like it was closing in on you as you stood there facing the boy you’d been in love with for as long as you could remember. You’d often dreamt of this day, the day where he’d finally realize your feelings only to have them reciprocated fully – but when you’d pictured it, Stu looked a lot less crazy than he did looking back at you now. But, even still, there was a glimmer of emotion shining brightly behind those blue eyes that made your breath hitch in your throat.
It made you nervous.
Worse, it made you hopeful.
“Stu,” you tried to find some conviction in your tone, but your nerves got the better of you. “Can you just get inside first? You’re scaring me.” Despite feeling as though you were going to faint, you managed to reach across the divide to yank him inside of your house. Locking the door behind you, you took a few even breaths before turning back around to face him. “What did Billy say?”
Stu ignored your question as he began to pace around your hallway. He was this tall, broad, string bean of a man on a regular day, but the mass of him tonight was all encompassing as he governed your foyer. “Seven years,” he began, his voice slightly shaky. “We’ve known each other for seven fucking years, Y/N. And I’ve hung on your every fucking word for all of six years, eight months and a handful of days, give or take.” He turned on his heel rather abruptly to face you. “But you liked Billy.”
You opened your mouth to respond to the first half of his statement before realization dawned on you. Grimacing, you shook your head. “Billy? He’s like my brother, where the hell did that come from?”
“You act like he hung the fucking moon, Y/N!” He exclaimed, emphatically. “What was I supposed to think?”
“What?” You shook your head in sheer confusion. “Okay, one thing at a time. Billy is one of my best friends. So are you. What’s the problem here?”
“The probl—?” Stu laughed. “The problem? For seven fucking years you’ve been the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. And literally every fucking second in between. And this whole goddamn time, I thought you were in love with Billy.”
You were reeling. You weren’t entirely sure if your heart was beating as loud as it appeared to be, but you were sure he could hear it from where he stood a few feet away. “I—” You tried to form a sentence – any sentence – but nothing seemed to suffice. “But the dates?” Were the only words that seemed to spill from your lips. “You were dating – are dating – constantly.”
“Yeah,” he breathed out, “wonder why.”
You weren’t sure when you’d done it or just how your legs managed to carry you back into the living room, but you found yourself falling against the arm of the couch in an almost dream-like state. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not trying to say anything,” Stu fussed. “I want to know if what Billy told me was true.” He walked up to you and searched your face. “Do you love me?”
You didn’t answer at first. You couldn’t. Not when it felt as though your lungs were about to explode in your chest. You must have opened your mouth a dozen times over, each time with the promise of a formative sentence, but nothing seemed to suffice.
Suddenly Stu’s hands were on you. Squeezing your thighs with those large hands, he demanded your focus as he swooped down and caught your eye. “I need you to answer me, doll.”
You were so focused in on the overwhelmingly glorious feeling of his hands on your thighs that you forgot to answer. Hell, you forgot to breathe. It wasn’t until you slowly managed to tear your eyes away from his hands to trail up the rest of his body towards that striking face of his, that you found your words.
“You came to my house at midnight. You’ve been the one going on dates like it’s a part time job. You’re the one claiming to have been hanging on my every word for the better half of our friendship so, no, Stu, I’m not saying a fucking word until you tell me what it is that brought you here this late?” You pushed his hands off of your thighs and stood up. “All I’ve done this entire time is sit idly by and watch you carry on like Heffner at the Playboy Mansion. You want me to answer you? Not until I get a—”
Your answer came in the form of a kiss.
On instinct, your hands tangled through his hair as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He might have been on your shit list at the moment, but fuck he was a good kisser. You’d been thinking about this very moment for as long as you could remember. Longer, even, and god was it everything you thought it would be and more.
His hands were on your face at first, cradling it gently as he backed you into the sofa, and then they were on your neck, holding you close as his tongue massaged against your own. Shivering beneath his touch, you instinctively leaned into his broad chest as the pair of you continue to stand there, kissing like your lives depended on it.
“Stu,” you mumbled against his lips. “What are we doing?”
“Kissing” he rasped out before finding your lips yet again. “Bed or couch?”
Every red flag in your head was going off to stop this and properly talk about what was not so subtly insinuated only seconds prior, but he just felt so good and you’d wanted this so so long. “Bed,” you told him breathlessly, without a second thought.
Stu wasted no time in leading you towards your bedroom, kissing his way down your neck as you stumbled down the narrow hallway. Obviously losing his patience about halfway through, he pushed you up against the wall and trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck. “I love you, if that wasn’t obvious.” He breathed out. “Like, a lot.”
His words struck you blind. Ever the dutiful distraction, however, Stu’s hand trailed down your sweatshirt before settling on the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your body reacted to the promise of his hand. Arching into him, you bit your lip and sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath the band. You were already soaked. Your body responded to the man in a way you couldn’t begin to comprehend, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. And as his middle finger slid into your folds, instantly finding your clit, a soft moan escaped your lips.
“Is this the horny part of your brain talking?” You growled, tugging at the ends of his hair so that you had full access to his lips. “Or are you serious?”
“So fucking serious.” He hummed into your mouth. He pinched your clit, garnering a rather surprised hiss to escape from your lips as your entire body lurched forward. Hearing him chuckle, you popped an eye and began to pull his shirt over his head. When you tossed it across the hallway, his eyes met yours. “Do you love me?”
“Yeah, but I have bone to pick with you first,” you chided, doing your best to control your breathing as he quickened his pace on your clit.
He ducked his head down to bite your lip. “Unless it’s this bone,” he ground his hips into you, and you could feel his rock-hard erection even through his jeans. “It can wait.”
You laughed before you could think of stopping yourself. “Jesus Christ, you’re disgusting.”
He was smirking across at you. “You love it.”
Still grinning, you rolled your eyes before your lips took refuge on his neck. Which, as it turned out, was a massive turn-on for Stu Macher. Running your tongue along it and nipping at the sensitive flesh, was getting him incredibly riled up if the bulge in his jeans was any indication. Biting down on the sensitive flesh, the groan it drew out of his mouth was enough to make your already wet pussy clench around his fingers.
“Fuck,” he drew out, sliding the finger that had been assaulting your clit only seconds prior inside of you.
You let out a small moan of your own as you hurriedly got to work on his belt. “Why the fuck wouldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” When you’d managed to practically rip it off of his waist, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans. His cock sprung free within seconds.
“I thought you liked Billy,” he rasped out gruffly as you began to pump his cock with your hand. “What was I supposed to do?”
You wiggled free from the hand currently down your shorts and dropped to your knees. Looking up at him through your thick eyelashes, you raised your brow. “You could have asked me?” You reminded him, swirling your tongue around the tip of that perfectly girthy cock. The man might have been a pain in the ass but good god he had the assets to make up for it.
Stu braced himself against the wall behind you and threw his head back. Fuck, you were lethal with that mouth of yours. “Hindsight,” he breathed out.
You released his cock with a pop. “You’re an idiot.” Was all you said before getting back to work. With your hand, you circled the base of his dick and took the length of him inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made your way back up.
He grabbed your hair and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck,” he growled. “Keep going.”
You hummed against his dick, digging your nails into his thigh briefly before looking back up at him. “Or what?” He allowed his forehead to fall against his forearm currently stabilizing him against the wall. You knew you were driving him crazy, but he’d done the same thing to you for the last seven years and you were nothing if not a petty bitch when you wanted to be. “Say it again.”
He furrowed his brow. “Say what?” Realization dawned on him. “Fuck, baby, you keep doing that I’ll put a ring on your finger tomorrow.” Stu’s blue eyes were hungrily taking you in. How you’d managed to stay fully dressed as he stood there with his jeans around his ankles and his cock out was beyond him but, sure enough, that was his reality. “I love you. A lot.”
You dug your nails into his thigh again, and slowly licked up the base of his cock. “Hmm,” you hummed with a nod of your head, releasing it to stand up to your full height. His eyes were pleading with you to finish him off, but as you slinked up the wall and mirrored his hungry gaze, he surprised you by sliding his calloused hand up the side of your neck until it cupped your cheek. You were practically nose-to-nose as he slowly pinned you against the wall and, as he leaned forward and nudged your nose with his, a slow, lazy grin broke out across your face. “I love you, too.”
Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him. Unlike the deliberate make-out session you’d had minutes prior, this kiss was slow and methodical. When you pulled away, you kissed the tip of his nose and nodded towards your bedroom. “Get on the bed.”
Stu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Pushy.”
You gave his dick a tug. “Go.”
He swooped in again and kissed you before haphazardly kicking off his shoes and jeans, punting them across the hallway as he backed you into your bedroom. When you were close enough to your bed, he broke the kiss to peel off your sweatshirt. Throwing it across the room, his hands were back on you within seconds, kneading and massaging your breasts before taking one in his mouth. Expertly, his tongue ran along your nipple before he began to suck and nip at them. Arching into his mouth, you fisted a handful of his hair and groaned as he pulled you in even closer.
“Stu,” you moaned, shutting your eyes momentarily as you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on your tits. The man truly was a god with his tongue.
But you had a trick up your sleeve. A little payback, if you will. And this, melting into his mouth, was not part of the plan.
Hating yourself, you pushed him away. The back of his knees hit your bed and you watched as he fell back onto the soft mattress with a slight bounce. There was confusion in his stare as he sat there ogling you. “Get over here,” he beckoned, voice low.
Slowly, you shimmied out of your pajama shorts, feeling his eyes on you every step of the way as you stepped out of them and walked towards the bed. Towards him. Sitting himself up, he opened his legs so you could step between them. His hands were slow as they trailed up and down your thighs, hips, and waist before sliding around to your ass. Squeezing and pulling at your cheeks, he pulled you closer and placed a tender kiss to your sternum before craning his neck up to peer up at you.
“I always knew you had a thing for my ass.” You raked your fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his forehead as you grinned down at him.
His answer came in the form of another firm squeeze of your ass only rather than stop there, he tugged you closer until you were tumbling onto his lap. You gripped his shoulders as you straddled his lap, subtly grinding your hips so his erection settled between the folds of your pussy, rubbing against your clit.
“Lay down on your stomach,” he uttered. When he noticed your apprehension, he raised a single eyebrow up at you and squeezed again. “Do you trust me?”
You nodded mutely and did as you were told. And, before you knew it, you were sliding off of his lap to lay stomach-down on your bed. You felt the bed shift as Stu crawled towards you but before you could question him on it, you felt his hands slide beneath your hips to pull you up so that your ass was raised in the air.
“What are you—”
Your words died in your throat as you felt his tongue glide along your pussy. Gasping, you nearly buckled forward, but caught yourself on your pillow. You were face down, buried in the comforter and pillows of your bed, but with your hips bent at the level Stu had moved them into, he had full access to both your pussy and your ass. You could feel his fingers kneading into your ass as his lapped up your every fold until settling on your clit. You groaned and buried your face into the pillow as he began to suck your clit. You could hear how wet you were as his mouth imbibed every inch of your pussy.
His name tore out of your throat and your knuckles whitened as you gripped the bedsheets. The veins in your neck swelled with every laboured breath you managed to draw and you found yourself bucking into his mouth as an orgasm rippled through your body. You moaned and groaned and cursed into the bed but Stu’s mouth was relentless. And as he pinched your clit all the while still lapping you up, you all but collapsed. When he was sure you couldn’t take another second of torture, he pulled away and allowed you to collapse onto the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were parted as you attempted to catch your breath. With a quiet chuckle, he kissed his way up your spine, grinning against your skin as your legs continued to twitch.
“Can I?” He asked, his cock at the ready.
Nodding, you gasped when you felt him slide inside of you. He bit down on your shoulder as he thrust into you and his quiet moans and unsteady breath was enough to kill you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so fucking good.”
This was a high unlike any other for Stu. Watching his cock slam into you, watching your ass slap against him with every wild thrust and pump he provided and feeling just how fucking wet you were for him – this was the unattainable high. You were the unattainable high.
He reached around to play with your clit again. He could feel it throbbing between his fingers and, feeling you tremble made him weak. Quickening his pace on your clit and steadying his thrusting to ensure you finished again, Stu bit down on your earlobe. “Come for me, baby.”
Your answer came in the form of another thick, guttural moan as you came undone yet again. He watched you quiver and shake and the vision of it was enough for him to quicken his thrusts. Groaning, his hands fell from your clit to hold your hips as he pounded into you. The sound of your cheeks slapping against him was drawing him closer and closer to one hell of an orgasm and as you let out one last breathy moan, his whole body seemed to erupt in fire.
His breathing was heavy as he came inside of you and the more sensitive his cock got with every thrust, his pace slowed. For a moment, neither of you moved. Instead, he allowed his forehead to fall back against your shoulder before he slowly pulled out.
“If I’d have known that’s what I was missing, we should have had this talk a lot sooner.” You teased, earning a playful smack to your ass from the man. Grinning, you flopped back onto the pillow and stared up at him. He was leaning on one arm as those blue eyes scraped over every inch of your face. You could see the words he wanted to say splayed out across his face and found yourself reaching up to brush his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.
“Right back at ya,” you smiled.
Fuck, you really were in love with the idiot.
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quillquiver · 3 years
Text
and it’s good
DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’
He hasn’t stopped praying.
From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…
From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.
Where does he go from here? What does he do?
What does he want?
Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.
“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.
“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”
Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”
“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”
Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.
“What if you come with me?”
“Nope.”
“Dean—”
“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”
“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”
It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”
“So…” Sam trails off.
“So…” Dean echoes.
“…Come with.”
“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”
“Dean—”
“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.
It tastes like sawdust.
“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”
It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.
…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.
“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”
“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.
“Hey, Dean?”
“Mm.”
“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”
Sam grins.
***
There’s no more frozen pizza.
It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.
It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.
It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—
He freezes.
The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.
Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.
But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.
…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.
He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—
“Are you gonna wash that?”
It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.
Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”
Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.
But they’re unfounded. 
Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”
“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”
“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”
He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”
It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.
Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.
But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.
And it’s good.
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intheticklecloset · 3 years
Text
A Good Tickling (My Hero Academia)
Primary Universe
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This one is a direct sequel to “Wardrobe Malfunction,�� as requested above. It’s also officially the longest fic I’ve ever written for any fandom, clocking in at 3,000+ words, so buckle up! I really had fun delving into this one and exploring Kirishima and Bakugou’s friendship on a bit of a deeper level while still turning it into a tickle fic by the end. I sincerely hope you enjoy! <3
6: “You want me to tickle you that bad?”
25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”
8: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”
20: “Stop resisting!”
19: “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”
25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”
You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.
Warning: Slight angst.
~
Kirishima was quiet. Like, really quiet. Too quiet. And Bakugou was extremely aware of it.
The silence had come on gradually, over the course of a couple of weeks. At first it was just small pockets of time during which the redhead seemed to shrink in on himself for no discernable reason, but he’d soon bounce back when someone started talking to him, Bakugou included. But as time went on, those pockets of silence became entire hours, which became days by the time two weeks had gone by.
Then Bakugou noticed something even more disconcerting.
Kiri would only be silent around him.
He’d walk into a situation in which Kiri was his normal self, having a good time with their other mutual friends and classmates, and boom. Instant shutdown. It was impossible to ignore after the second time it happened that Kirishima was going silent because of his presence, and Bakugou was actually getting worried about it.
It all came to a head one night when Bakugou went downstairs for dinner, where Kiri and some others were already starting to eat. As soon as he entered the room Kiri’s face went dark and he stopped speaking, which was already bothersome to the atomic teen before the redhead then stood up, put his practically uneaten dinner in the fridge, and left the room.
That was the moment Bakugou realized he’d done something wrong. Somewhere along the line and without knowing it, he’d upset Kirishima so much that his closest friend couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore.
No, he thought. I have to fix this. So he turned right back around and followed Kirishima to his dorm room.
“It’s open,” Kiri called when Bakugou knocked, and as soon as the door was open enough for him to see who was visiting, he turned his back and didn’t say anything.
Bakugou felt awkward closing the door behind him as he entered the silent space, but he’d resolved to find out what was going on. He hated this rift that existed between them now. He wanted to close it up. To be close with Kiri again. He missed him, dang it.
For a long while words failed him. How was he supposed to approach this when he didn’t know what was wrong? Finally Bakugou cleared his throat. “Hey. Are you mad at me?”
Kiri’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
Well, that was a relief, at least. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Bull. Bakugou fought back an angry retort and said in his calmest voice, “You can run from me all you like, Kirishima, but at the end of the day you can’t hide that you’re upset with me about something. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me. So…” He sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Kiri still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to you,” Bakugou shot back, “and I don’t like that you aren’t yourself around me lately. Where’s that loud, obnoxious, spiky-haired idiot I usually hang out with?”
“I don’t know.”
Bakugou’s irritation was rising, but he used every ounce of willpower he had to fight it. He tried to think rationally. When had this all started? Not long after that day in the locker room when he called Kiri’s costume stupid. Was that it? “Is this because of what I said about your hero costume?”
Kirishima tensed, but shook his head. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not that.”
“Well, you started being really weird around me after that, so what gives?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead got up from his seat at his desk and finally turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes – the upset, lost, desperate look – was like a sucker punch to the stomach to Bakugou. Guilt washed over him, and he still didn’t even know why.
“Yes, it does.” Bakugou felt something inside him soften. He dared to take a step closer. “Please, Kiri, tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
Kirishima seemed to have some kind of struggle within himself. He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and gripped it so hard Bakugou thought it might splinter. Finally he muttered, “It’s just…I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing’s working.”
“What isn’t?”
“I’ve tried tickling you,” Kiri continued, his eyes everywhere but the blonde. “I’ve tried outing you to our friends, I’ve tried tickling you in public, teasing you in public, saying things I thought would make you angry enough to retaliate…nothing!” He shoved his chair into his desk so hard it made Bakugou jump. “And then when you finally tickle me and call it revenge, we’re in the middle of class so I can’t even enjoy it because I don’t want to get in trouble. And I try challenging you openly and still nothing!” The redhead was on a roll now that the words were finally coming. “Even Sero has tickled me nearly to death, and he almost never does that kind of thing. Everyone seems to get it. Everyone can tell when I want it. But even when I outright tell you to do your worst, you do nothing!”
Bakugou was stunned.
“Why is it,” Kiri continued, voice rising, “that all of our friends know that I love being tickled and will tickle me when I want it, but my best friend just stands there even when I’m practically begging him to destroy me? I don’t understand!”
This time, the silence was on Bakugou’s end. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen Kiri so openly upset, and over something that could have so easily been avoided if he’d just pulled his head out of his butt long enough to see how much damage his apathy was doing.
A long minute passed before he was able to speak.
“I…” Bakugou cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I mean, I knew you liked it, but…I didn’t realize how much…” He frowned. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”
“Ugh!” Kirishima covered his face with his hands and cried, “Yes!”
“I’m…I’m sorry.” Bakugou took another step closer. “Kiri, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. It…it means a lot, doesn’t it?”
“It’s so stupid,” Kiri growled, but Bakugou could tell even before he turned his back again that his friend was on the verge of tears. Another sucker punch to the gut. “It’s so stupid. It’s just tickling. I shouldn’t be so upset over this, right? It’s so dumb of me.”
“Oh, heck no.” No way was Bakugou letting him go down this path with his thoughts. He strode right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around. “Do not feel bad about this. This is my fault. This isn’t because you weren’t clear enough. I knew what you were asking for and I just stood there, like you said. Like a complete and total jerk. Do not apologize for my mistakes. Let me do that. Kiri, I’m so sorry.”
Kiri said nothing, but he swallowed thickly, and Bakugou pulled him into a hug before he could think twice about it. He held the redhead close and waited, hoping that his apology would be accepted. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then, finally, Kiri wrapped his arms around him, too, sighing heavily into his shoulder.
“What is it?” Bakugou asked softly, genuinely, trying not to disturb the moment. As much as he hated sentiment, he didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Why is it so important to you? I want to understand.”
“That’s just it,” Kiri mumbled in reply. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. It’s just…it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good, and when it’s with my friends I know I can feel comfortable and be open about it without judgement, and even when I’m getting absolutely destroyed I know I’m safe and they’ll stop when I really need them to. But until then I can just…laugh until I can’t breathe.” The redhead pulled away from Bakugou, keeping his eyes averted. “I don’t know. It’s just so much fun. And with you, I know you’re good at tickling; I’ve heard Midoriya talk about it, I even experienced it a couple of times. And you’re my best friend, so more than anyone else I want you to tickle me into next year. So when I openly asked you to and all this time has gone by and you’ve had lots of opportunities and you didn’t, I just…” Kiri bit his lip. “I felt like maybe you really didn’t care. You act like it a lot, but this time…this time I wondered if you—”
“I care,” Bakugou said quickly, desperate to bring an end to that train of thought. “I care, Kiri, I’m just a complete jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I really screwed things up. I’m an idiot.”
Kiri offered a weak smile. “It’s okay—”
“No it’s not okay!” Bakugou snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look how upset you are over this! How is any part of this okay? No.” He shook his head. “No. I have to fix this. I want to fix this.” He thought for a moment, then met Kiri’s eyes. “Do you still want me to?”
Kirishima stared at him. “W-What? Now?”
“Or later,” Bakugou said quickly. “If I haven’t ruined everything. But – but yeah, I’ll do it now, if you want.”
Kiri took a step back. “Talk about whiplash.”
“I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know you’re upset, but if you’re okay with it I’d much rather make you laugh right now—”
“Bakugou,” Kiri said, “I want you to tickle me. But only if you want to. Don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Do it because you mean it.”
Bakugou nodded once. “I mean it. I’ll tickle you into oblivion now, and then later I’ll do it again and again and again. I do want to make you laugh, Kiri. Really.” He dared to smirk. “But even more, I kind of want to see how much it will take for you to beg me for mercy.”
Kiri frowned. “It will take a lot. I’m not kidding about that.”
“Then bring it on.” Bakugou tackled Kirishima onto his bed, making the redhead yelp in surprise. He swung a leg over to straddle him and paused, just once. “You sure this is okay right now?”
“For the love of god, Bakugou,” Kiri groaned, “if you don’t make good on your promise right here and now I swear I will end our friendship and then end you!”
“Good enough for me.” Bakugou grinned wickedly, shoving Kiri’s arms above his head. “All right, then. When you really can’t take it anymore, tap out. Until then, I will not stop. Got it?”
“Prove it,” Kiri spat, but his eyes were hopeful.
“Keep those arms up there.” Bakugou growled, releasing his hold and sitting back. “Move them and I’ll make it worse.”
“All bark and no bite?”
“Hah.” Bakugou smirked. “One more thing. I want to make you laugh so hard you forget your own name. But before that, I want to see how long you can go without laughing. Bet you’re not going to be very good at that part.”
Kiri smirked back. “Bring it on already.”
Bakugou did, lightly trailing his fingers from Kiri’s underarms down his ribs and sides to his stomach, watching the redhead twitch a little but – surprisingly – do very well in keeping himself in control. “Hmm,” the blonde mused. “Should have had you take your shirt off. That would make this easier.”
“Want to enjoy the view?” Kiri teased. “I told you I look good in my costume as it is.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”
“The shirt stays on. You made me wait this long. Now I’m going to make you work for it.”
“I don’t think that will be hard, considering I can just do this.” The blonde shoved his hands up under Kiri’s t-shirt and raked his nails down his ribs roughly, making Kiri choke on a startled yelp. “Giving in already?”
“No way!”
“We’ll see.”
Bakugou got to work, starting very lightly and increasing the pressure with every pass, making sure to focus on the ribs when he circled back to them each time, knowing that was Kiri’s worst spot and very likely the place that would break him and make him laugh first. Kirishima kept his arms above his head as instructed and his smile widened more and more, but he did better than Bakugou was expecting at keeping his mirth at bay.
“Dang, you’re stubborn,” the blonde muttered after a few minutes of this. “Stop resisting, already.”
“Y-You’re the o-one who wanted m-me to h-hold out,” Kiri stammered. If nothing else, he sounded close to breaking, and that was satisfying just on its own. “I’m c-c-committed n-now.”
“Well, knock it off. I see that smile, but I want to hear you laugh, spiky hair.” Bakugou decided to be a little mean and press his thumbs into Kiri’s bottom ribs, kneading gently. “Come on. Let it out.”
“Agh, n-no,” Kiri’s voice wobbled as he tried to stay in check, his grin splitting his face. He squirmed a little. “That’s cheating!”
“Oh, is it? Too bad. Playing dirty is kind of my thing when it comes to tickling. Ask Deku.”
“I k-know all about that. He’s t-t-told me how r-ruthless you ahare.”
Bakugou kneaded deeper. “Was that a giggle?”
“Ah! N-No, no!”
“It sounded like a giggle.”
“It w-w-wasn’t!”
Feeling evil, Bakugou kept up his kneading pace and began to tease. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”
Kiri whined. “Oh, y-you so don’t p-plahay fair!”
“Now that was a giggle.”
“You s-s-suck so much--!”
Bakugou dug his fingers in deep to Kirishima’s ribcage, and with a shriek of surprise, the redhead finally broke.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK I WAHAHAHAS DOING SO GOHOHOHOHOHOOD!!”
“Too good,” Bakugou corrected over Kiri’s laughter, impressed his friend’s arms were still above his head, albeit flailing now. “I was getting tired of you showing me up from such a helpless position. Forget resisting. It’s time to make you laugh your guts out.”
“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU SOHOHOHOHON OF A--!!”
Bakugou slapped a hand over his mouth and tickled wildly with his other hand, enjoying the look of sheer panic that came over Kiri’s face. The redhead started to bring his arms down. “Ah-ah-ah! What did I say? Keep them up.” Kiri whined, fisting his hands into his hair while his legs kicked wildly, the sounds of his distress muffled. “Well now, this is satisfying. You look hilarious, all freaked out like that. Didn’t think I’d pull out all the stops, did you?”
Kiri screeched when Bakugou started pinching his bottom ribs.
“I mean, I suppose I could also tie you up if I really wanted to be mean. But that’s your call, and you can’t talk right now, so I’m not going to assume anything.”
Kirishima started to bring his arms down again, then settled for covering his face with them. His laughter was loud and crazy, even behind Bakugou’s palm over his mouth. The blonde smirked down at his friend, marveling at how much he seemed to enjoy this, despite the obvious ticklish distress he was in.
“You’re probably thinking, ‘I thought you said you wanted to hear me laugh? Why are you covering my mouth?’ Right?” Bakugou chuckled. “I do want to hear you laugh. But it’s so much fun to make you desperate first. You’re just dying to let it out now, aren’t you? No more holding back?”
Kirishima managed a split-second glare in the midst of his muffled hysterics before nodding frantically.
“That’s what I thought.” Bakugou finally pulled his hand away and used both hands to rake up and down Kiri’s ribs.
“SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMEWHEHEHEHERE ELSE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE GO SOHOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHEHEHELSE!!”
Bakugou laughed. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it here anymore? But I want to hear you laugh, Kirishima.”
“I AHAHAHAHAHAHAM LAHAHAHAHAHAUGHING!!” Kiri screamed, his arms flailing wildly above him. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”
“Honestly, I’m just trying to find the technique that will make you bring your arms down to stop me,” the blonde said with a shrug. “So I can make it worse.”
Kiri’s laughter was wild already, and they were only a few minutes in. He squealed and shrieked and thrashed and kicked but – somehow – kept his arms above him the entire time. Bakugou was impressed. That had to take serious effort on his part.
Now, how to break that concentration?
He’d tried kneading, pinching, and raking – all obviously effective forms of ticklish torture. But nothing had made Kiri’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in the way he’d hoped it would. What was he missing?
“Oh, I think I know what will drive you nuts.” Bakugou laughed, suddenly leaning down to blow the longest raspberry he could manage on Kirishima’s bottom ribs. Sure enough, not a whole second had gone by before he felt Kiri’s hands grabbing at his hair frantically.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”
“Well, well. I told you to keep your arms up.” Bakugou smirked, grabbing Kiri’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress by his sides. “Now I’ll have to punish you.”
Kiri gasped for breath while he could, his eyes wide and cheeks pink and hair wild, but behind it all, it was obvious to Bakugou that his best friend was having the time of his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made him wait this long. Made him practically beg for something as simple as a good tickling.
“Y-You’re gonna…b-break me,” Kiri stammered between breaths of air, sounding surprised. “I w-won’t be able to…to take it at this rate!”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it? You wanted me to destroy you, right?”
Kiri beamed. “Yeah.”
“Still good to go?”
“Yeah!”
Bakugou took a big breath, then blew another raspberry. Then another, then another, then another. Then he got to work absolutely destroying Kirishima with tickle torture, digging into his underarms and sides and hips and knees and feet, but especially his ribs, until the minutes added up and added up for nearly an hour, and by the time they were done Kirishima was laughing so hard his voice was giving out and tears streamed down his cheeks and he was pounding the mattress as desperately as he could to gain some shred of mercy from the tickle monster that was Katsuki Bakugou.
And when it was all over and Bakugou finally relented, Kirishima kept giggling even without the tickling stimulation, shaking his head in disbelief and gasping for oxygen. “I c-can’t…breheheathe…”
“You asked for it,” Bakugou reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin at the mess he’d made of his closest friend. “And I promise, the next time you ask for it, I won’t hesitate to do this to you again. And again and again. As many times as you ask for it, I’ll destroy you, Kiri.”
“W-What about…playful tickles…?”
“Those, too.” Bakugou nodded. “I swear I’ll stop being an idiot about this. You ask, I’ll answer. I promise. I won’t ever let you give me the silent treatment again. I’ll be a best friend worthy of the title.” He wanted to cringe at himself for saying it, but it was all true, and besides that, Kirishima’s response was more than worth it.
“You were already a great best friend,” the redhead replied tiredly, lifting his head off the pillow to grin at him. “This just makes you that much better. Thank you, Katsuki. Seriously.”
Bakugou swallowed, feeling a little awkward due to all the sentiment in the room. He nudged Kiri’s leg. “Thanks for putting up with me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Sure you do. You’re a little rough around the edges but you’re a cool dude, King Explosion Murder.”
Bakugou’s lips twitched. “I told you if you called me that again there would be consequences.”
“Yeah?” Kiri chuckled. He leveled a clear, challenging smirk at the blonde. “Prove it.”
190 notes · View notes
novoaa1writes · 3 years
Text
honest
Tumblr media
pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)
summary:
coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.
contains: angst & fluff with happy ending
(also available on ao3.)
word count: ~2,000
rating: teen
warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality
notes: 
in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
— —
disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.
feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!
— —
You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror. 
Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.
Yeah. Seems about right. 
“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”
The more insistent you become, the less you believe it. 
“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.” 
... But will she?
You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless. 
You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even. 
Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that. 
“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”
God, you pray that that’s true. 
— —
7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business. 
By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.
In short, it’s hellish. 
“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing. 
You groan and squint up at her, searching for—
A-ha!
There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there. 
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble. 
May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”
You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it. 
Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.
Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May. 
Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that. 
Still… 
You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get. 
— —
“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging. 
Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out. 
You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?” 
May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.” 
Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head. 
“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.
“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”
“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.” 
“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did). 
Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further. 
You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one. 
Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”
May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”
You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”
Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.
“I want to hear you say it.”
You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.” 
Non-binary. 
What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath. 
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.  
It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.
“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”
Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle. 
May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”
“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.
She nods. “It often is.”
“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”
May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” 
May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’
You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.  
“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May. 
All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.) 
There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out. 
Yeah, you can tell Daisy. 
You’re going to tell Daisy. 
And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.
— —
In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better. 
Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but… 
Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice. 
Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.  
To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”
You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”
Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue. 
“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”
Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”
“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it. 
Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips. 
You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.  
Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest. 
Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind. 
Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and— 
Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.
For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.  
— — 
(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’
When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before. 
In fact, it’s rather the opposite.
The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake. 
Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.
You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)
— —
end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.
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108 notes · View notes
sapphire374 · 3 years
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Soy Sol: Chapter 10 (Hopeful Curiosity)
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Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 / Ch.13 / Ch.14 / Ch.15 / Ch.16 / Ch.17
The gang is huddled around each other at the Jam and Roller rink. Ámbar proceeds to glance over her clipboard that carries the original sign-up sheet. “So, Ámbar, do we have enough members to make up a team for the competition.” Ámbar quickly looks Luna in the eyes and decides to call out the list of names. “The official Jam and Roller team members are Luna, Simon, Matteo, Gaston, Ramiro, Jim, Delfi, Pedro and Jazmin.” Everyone starts counting with their fingers but before anyone gets the chance to start counting, Gaston and Nina both yell out “that’s nine members, we’re missing one.” Luna rollers towards Ámbar. “Ámbar you’re not on the list. Are you going to join us? Please, pretty please join us. Whether you would like to admit it or not, you’re one of the best roller skaters out there and we need you.”
Ámbar takes a big gulp of air, processing everything that’s going on. Luna’s pout with her watery eyes has made Ámbar reconsider her decision. Before she always wanted the worst for Luna, but the past few years has made them become inseparable. She now views Luna as her younger sister plus being the manager of the gang’s favorite place has made her feel as everyone’s bigger sister, being the mature one. Ambar gives in. “Fine, I’ll do it. Especially since you guys need me so much. You guys aren’t wrong though, I am the best,” Ámbar jokes. The whole gang cheers, everyone jumps up and down and excitement enters the room.
Everyone is huddled as they all set their hands out and chant, “ready! One, two, three Jam and Roller!” Juliana enters through the chaos of excitement. “Opa opa! Seems like the group has never separated and feels closer than ever.” The gang all turn around facing her, their faces show signs of shock. No one was expecting this except one certain person in the room. “Juliana! You’re back! Wait how did you know we got the team back together for a competition?” Simón asks. “A little birdy called me and said that a certain team needed my help so I came as quick as I can.” The whole gang starts whispering, wondering who was it that reached out to her. Luna gives Ámbar and Simón a little smirk.
“So have you guys chosen which song you all are going to skate to?” Juliana questions. “Nope,” Ámbar answers. That’s when the idea hits Simón. “I have an idea! Maybe not only the team gets back together for this competition, but also the band? What do you guys say, Nico, Pedro?” Simón suggests. Nico and Pedro look at each other in disbelief and with a loss of words. “Uhh yes of course! You have no idea how long I’ve missed playing on the drums,” Pedro states. “And you guys have no idea how long I’ve missed collaborating the three of us together again,” Nico chimes in. “I guess that settles it. The band is back!!” Simón announces. The room is filled with so many emotions as everyone is so excited about what’s to come next. True nostalgia and memories really do start coming back to them since working together and competing to save their beloved place truly brings them back to old times. Just like how Matteo and Luna wouldn’t stop stealing glances at each other through the midst of it all.
This competition will be fierce including what’s called two stages. The first stage is the basic entry in which they record a video of their performance, the second stage is where they have the official competition. They first though have to make it through the first stage. For the next few days, Juliana tries to prepare them with some exercises since it has been years some of them roller skated. Then they gradually learned again how to do some simple routines as pairs then as groups. Before the gang knew it, in a week they have mastered all the skills and are ready to practice the actual choreography for the performance. Luna and Matteo still haven’t talked much though, yet they’re constant staring proves to show that they still miss and love each other.
Monday Evening at the Jam and Roller (after about a week and a half)
Juliana tells the gang that they can rest, and training has just finished. The group has finally mastered the double turns alignment but are struggling with air spins. Matteo heads over to Luna like old times, while she’s drinking water near the rails. “What’s the matter Chica Delivery? Has all the training finally tired you out?” Matteo flirtatiously says. Luna tries to hide her blushed cheeks and smirks at his comment. “Chico fresa you know that can never happen. My internal adrenaline is endless.” Luna and Matteo begin to laugh. Luna stops once she remembers why she was trying to avoid him for the longest. “Matteo don’t think I forgot everything that has happened.” She begins to stare at the floor, holding back a tear. “I’ve already apologized, what more do you want?” Matteo begs.
“You know that’s not the issue. I just feel like I can’t trust you anymore. You promised me you wouldn’t lie to me anymore and that’s exactly what you did. I don’t want our relationship to be built out of lies. I’d rather stay single instead of having someone stab me in the back unaware.” Matteo widely opens his eyes, it feels like someone has sucker punched him in the gut. For a long time, Matteo has tried to prove to Luna he has changed and does truly care about her, how can one little lie bring all the pain back. “Luna, you know I would never want to break your heart or ‘stab you in the back.’ I just lied about this because I knew you would get jealous of me hanging out with Viviana.” Luna gasps in astonishment. “Jealous! Now that’s a joke right there. For me to be jealous of her, that would mean I would want to be like her or want something she has but that’s not the case at all. I’m happy with the life I live and don’t want to change it. I just don’t like how close she’s been with you. You know I’m okay with you having female friends, but not when one tries to kiss you when I’m not around and constantly wrapping her arms around you. Even the news outlets think you broke up with me and dating her because of how much ‘quality time’ you guys spend together.”
Matteo responds with, “You know how much I miss it when you call me Chico Fresa and miss these fun bantering moments. I would never fall for her because you’re my one true love. You may not be jealous of her but you’re jealous of her getting to spend time with me. Is that it? You want to hang out more with me? How do I make it up to you?” Luna shakes her head and says, “You just don’t get it and it’s okay. I don’t feel like arguing today.” Luna rollers away and Matteo covers his face as he lays his elbows on the silver polished rails. Gastón heads to him and pats his shoulder. “She still hasn’t forgiven you?” Matteo shakes his head in response. His phone begins to ring in the pocket of his jeans. He lifts himself up and pulls it out. “Hello…. yes……. Already in a week? ..... ah I see, okay that seems appropriate I guess…...tomorrow okay, I’ll see you then.” Matteo hangs up and places his phone in his pocket again. “Who was that?” Gastón questions. “It’s my manager. They’re planning to release my music video with Viviana at the end of this week. Usually, we don’t release music videos this early but apparently she demanded for it since it would look good and perfect for this summer. Well to prepare for the release, they want me to perform with her in a live concert.” Matteo’s expression shows his stress and frustration. “But what about the Jam and Roller training?” Gastón asks him. “I’ll try to practice for the concert before the Jam and Roller training starts every day and the concert is on Saturday so that day I guess I’ll just miss training for that one day. I have no other choice.”
Gastón keeps thinking and doesn’t say a word till an amazing idea slips in his head. “I just got it! I just thought of the perfect plan that’ll get Luna to forgive you and get back together with her.” Matteo starts smiling as Gastón whispers the plan into his left ear. “Hermano, you’re a genius.”
The Benson Mansion
Ámbar doesn’t stop glaring at the letter in front of her. It was the original copy that was locked up in Sharon’s vault. This was what her biological mom wrote to her before she gave her away, it includes her phone number. She wants to call that number, desperately wants to but what if this number doesn’t work anymore? Or what if it does? She feels so confused. The closer the wedding gets, the scarier it feels for her. She wants to invite her biological mom and maybe even Sharon, she’s just undecided. It’s more than just complicated for her.
She sucks up every bit of courage left in her, grabs her phone and types in the numbers smeared at the bottom of the letter. It’s…. ringing. The longer she has to wait, the faster her heart beats. The phone stops ringing. “Hello,” the person on the other end answers. Ámbar’s voice begins to crack, “Uh… yes is this Sylvana Ariel?” Ámbar takes a big gulp of air. The person on the other end responds, “yes this is she. Who do I have the pleasure speaking to?” When Ambar hears that it’s her, she decides to move forward with the plan of meeting her. Maybe it was destiny for her to still have this phone number for so many years? “Yes, this is Ámbar, Ámbar Smith. We need to talk. Are you available today?” Ámbar takes control of the situation showing no signs of hesitation, even though her heart says otherwise. “Oh Ámbar? Yes, I’m available today.” Ámbar takes one good look at the letter and answers back, “Good. Meet me at Pachani’s restaurant today at 7 p.m.” The lady answers with an okay before Ámbar hangs up the phone.
She didn’t know this day would come so soon. Getting to meet her birth mother. What should she say? What should she do? Maybe this would help her understand her whole story and discover more who she really is before she gets married. Simón walks into the living room. “There you are. I thought you would be at the Jam and Roller; you never miss an afternoon of work?” Ámbar quickly folds the letter and slips it into her purse. “Oh yeah I just came home to… find another bridal magazine. I thought I left one of my favorite ones here in the living room.” Simón scrunches up his face, “here? In the living room of the Benson Mansion? But you always look at them at our apartment?” Ámbar clasps her purse and places the strap around her arm. “Oh well I sometimes look at them here whenever I visit the Valentes and have a cup of coffee, by mistake one of these days I left my bridal magazine.” Simón nods showing how he understands. “So how are bridal things going?”
“Pretty smooth. Luna and Nina agreed to go order the sets of flowers and decorations at the boutique right across town,” Ámbar states. “Oh, that’s nice. Luna and Nina were so kind to offer their help. What would we do without them?”
“Yes, I agree. We’re very lucky to have them indeed. Um there is one thing I forgot to tell you. At around 7 p.m I won’t be at home yet, I have a meeting with some other law school students for this project we have going on, so I won’t be home.”
Simón’s smile fades away. “Aww I’ll miss you, but I do wish you good luck on the project. I know you’ll do great on it.” Ámbar smiles from thinking how lucky she is to have a caring, understanding partner by her side. They hug each other and head out of the mansion.
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*Gif not made by me. Owner of gif's name is at the bottom right hand corner :) *
Lacey’s Boutique
Luna and Nina wait at the front desk holding a slip of paper that carries a list of things they need to purchase for Ámbar’s wedding. “He said that?” Nina whispers. “Yep, I can’t believe he called me jealous when he was the one who lied and created this whole mess in the first place. When we got back together, we agreed on no secrets and to always communicate. That’s the only way a relationship can go well, just look at Ámbar and Simón?”
“I absolutely agree. I felt awful when Gaston spied on me that day, so I understand what you mean. Luckily everything is fixed now,” Nina cheers. “I’m happy for you Nina, sadly in between Matteo and I is a person who doesn’t stop flirting and hanging out with him. Plus, it’s so obvious too, even Simón thought he was dating Viviana and broke up with me. I can’t believe Matteo doesn’t believe me and instead calls me jealous. After everything we’ve been through.” The cashier heads to the counter and Luna and Nina’s conversation ends. “So, is this the list for everything?” Luna nods in approval. “Okay great, everything will be prepared in time and the delivery will be sent to the place on the date of the card.” Luna picks up the card and puts it away in her tiny backpack.
“Thank you,” she begins to head out before the cashier stops her. “Wait, I have something to give you.” He pulls out another card from his pocket. “Here’s my phone number, maybe we can have a cup of coffee together someday if you’d like?” Luna is speechless and turns to Nina for a choice of words. Nina shrugs and seems to be just as confused as her. “Um... well the thing is I’m in a relationship… well right at this moment I’m not sure…. Honestly I don’t know it’s complicated me and my boyfriend well after what he did, I don’t think he’s still my boyfriend but I don’t know…” Luna stops talking when the cashier extremely perplexed expression shows vividly. “Um… well once you get all that resorted and decide not to be with this… complicated person feel free to give me a call.” He leaves and heads to the back of the store. “Luna, I’m shocked he’s still into you after everything you blurted out. I think you even fried his brain.” Nina and Luna giggle their way out.
Jim and Yam’s Apartment
Ramiro adjusts the collar of his nicely firm long sleeve button up shirt. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers and is trying to collect the right words to say to Yam. He knocks on the door and waits for a response. “I’m coming,” she says. For Ramiro, hearing Yam’s voice is like a breath of fresh air.
She opens the door and is surprised to see Ramiro’s well put together fit. “Before you say anything I want to do this right. Yam, I know our relationship has been like an ongoing rollercoaster, we’ve been through the ups and the downs but the one thing that has always stayed constant is my love for you. After everything that has happened, I always knew I love you and my path ends up meeting yours. Yam would you like to go on a date with me?” Yam covers her mouth in amusement. She’s appalled from the beautiful surprise he’s presented her, and with a speech too. Usually, Ramiro is too cool for all of this but seeing what he has done has proven enough to Yam that he’s committed. “Ramiro of course, I would love to. In fact, I was always thinking what took you so long?” Yam begins to chuckle. “I guess fear from this not working out, but you can’t always live in fear for the rest of your life.”
Yam jumps into Ramiro’s arms and kisses him on the cheek.
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Angels Like You (Can't Fly Down Here With Me)(Chapter 4)(A. Matthews/M. Marner)
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Mitch and Auston roll into practice together and park next to the same entrance they do every single practice. Business as usual, even though all Mitch wants to do is crawl back into bed and cry or actually murder someone with all the conflicted feelings he has. Auston being at his place this morning has made it slightly more bearable though. Just his presence makes everything seem kind of okay, and as they get out of the car, it’s almost as if he reads Mitch’s mind and puts his hand on his thigh and squeezes gently, in an effort to comfort him enough to stop him from actually vibrating with nerves. “You gonna be okay? I can always tell Keefe you’re too hungover, or sick, or whatever you want the story to be.”
Mitch’s breath catches, which he blames on Auston forcing him out of his head so suddenly, not on his touch, and smiles a bit, but shakes his head. “I’m okay. Honestly. I think this is the best thing for me right now, to just continue life as usual.”
Auston knows he’s lying, knows Mitch well enough to tell when he’s not being totally honest, but he smiles at him anyways and nods. “If you need anything just tell me, alright? Anything.” Auston actually might jump in front of a bus with how overly affectionate he knows he sounds, but Mitch smiles slightly and glances at Auston before looking back down at his lap, and he forgets to be disgusted with himself. They drag themselves out of the car and as they grab their bags, Will comes up from behind them and pushes himself between the two of them, an arm around each of their shoulders.
“Morning, boys,” Will starts, all too energetic and bubbly for the tense air around them. It breaks the grey cloud looming over Mitch’s head a bit, though, but when he visibly perks up Auston’s heart clenches. He’s happy, of course, but almost jealous it wasn’t him to snap him out of it.
Why couldn’t it be him?
“Morning, Will. How ya doing, bud?”
“Great, actually.” The two of them trail off into a conversation about Will’s exciting morning, leaving Auston to berate himself. He wants so badly to be William at this moment. The jealousy he feels makes him want to vomit. He actually might be sick, because what the fuck. It’s his two best friends. It’s not like Mitch even likes him back, never mind loves him the way Auston does. He has no fucking right to be jealous, but he can’t help it. Mitch is his entire world, and he’d kill to just put a smile on his pretty face, and Will is able to do it in the first two seconds of them seeing each other. He doesn’t want anyone to make Mitch as happy as he does, and it's gross and disgusting and toxic but he can’t help it because it’s how he feels. He hates it, but it’s the truth.
Mitch notices his silence and when they sit down next to each other in their stalls, he tries to ask him what’s up by knocking their knees together. Auston just shakes his head and bites his tongue, swallowing down the three words he wants to say more than anything to save himself from the embarrassment and disappointment he knows he would feel for the rest of time if he was actually honest about this. It’s the one thing he knows he can’t share with Mitch, and it’s the one thing he wants to the most. Mitch just nods, pauses for a second, then starts without looking up at Auston right away.
“Will invited us over to his place for dinner tonight. Said his apartment’s been empty with Kap gone, and I haven’t been over there in a while…” The guilt that displays itself all over Mitch’s face is more than enough to have Auston nodding his head in agreement, even though he knows exactly what Will is planning to do as soon as he has the two of them in a room together with him and no fans or teammates or staff to see. He just does not have the energy for it today, but who could say no to Mitch. “Cool! Awesome, I’ll, uh, I’ll tell him we can go, then. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
It has to stop, Auston knows that. The two of them have been driving each other around since rookie year, and it’s probably part of what led to all of his messed up feelings. Spending so much time with each other, it’s bound to happen to at least one of them, and the one ended up being Auston. So it has to stop. “I can drive myself, you know.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as snide as it does, because when would he ever purposely try to hurt Mitch, but the second the words leave his mouth he regrets all of it.
“Oh,” Mitch nods, looking like someone just sucker-punched him in the gut. “Uhm, yeah, I know. I just thought that, since I usually pick you up to go to things, I would. But if you don’t want to, that's fine. Yeah.” He shoots his gaze to the floor, unsure of what to do now. He wasn’t expecting it to be that big of a deal, but now he feels like he’s suffocating.
Auston’s chest hurts so bad he could scream, and even though his heart is saying to lighten up and back off, when he opens his mouth, his tone stays the same as before. “I just think we should give each other some space sometimes. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.” He spits the last word and actually cannot physically remove the disgust from his face. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Relax!
Mitch doesn’t look up right away, but nods and bites his lip. Auston gets up and starts putting his stuff from his bag into his cubby, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Mitch unsure of what to do with himself, playing with his watch absentmindedly while he chews the living hell out of the inside of his cheek. He continues to watch him while he gets up from his place and stands up next to Auston.
“What is up with you lately, man?” Mitch suddenly bursts, his voice raised a level louder than anyone else in the room. The entire team falls silent, and Auston knows for a fact that usually that would make Mitch calm down, chill out, because despite the fact that he has an A on his chest and has the centre of attention in most rooms he walks into, he still forgets what he wants to say as soon as he has the room’s attention. He continues right on, though, without a second thought about who’s listening. “You’re on and you’re off. You show up to my place all ‘I love you I care about you you don’t need her’ and now you’re snappy and rude. What the fuck have I done to you to hate me so fucking much that when I’m already down, you act like I’m fucking stupid and don’t notice you look miserable when you’re around me?!”
Auston turns towards Mitch, but when he sees the look on his face, any comeback that was on his lips dies right there. He’s seen that look on him, pointed towards the opposing player on a faceoff, or towards a ref after a stupid call against his team, and heartbreakingly towards himself in the mirror after a game he feels like he lost. Auston’s always been the one to wipe that look away, to tell him everythings going to be okay, to calm him down and remind him there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. That look has never been pointed towards him. Never.
Will stands up then and starts towards Mitch, looking frantically back and forth between Mitch and Auston, looking for Auston to tell him what to do. Auston just stares at Mitch, tongue in cheek, so Will tries to butt in. “Hey, Mitch, I think we should chill out a bit, eh?” “Get the fuck away from me Will. I need to know what his fucking problem is.” Mitch shoves Will to the side, and even though he could’ve easily stood his ground, he backs away a step, not leaving his side completely. Will looks up at Auston, completely unsure of how he’s supposed to help in this situation. Auston thinks his lungs might have actually collapsed because he suddenly can't get a breath in. John makes his way over to the three of them from the other side of the locker room and puts his arms on Auston’s biceps, knowing his tells for when he needs right there, in his space, to calm him down before he implodes. He turns him away from Mitch and forces Auston to make eye contact with him, to look away from Mitch. “Shower, Aus?”
He doesn’t respond, but numbly follows his captain to the showers without looking back to see Will push Mitch into his seat and sit next to him with an arm around his shoulder, all the fight evidently escaping Mitch’s body. “Suit up and ice in two minutes, boys,” John announces to the team before leaving the room.
The door to the showers swings shut and John walks over to where Auston is leaning against a stall door. “What just happened?”
He didn’t even feel like crying two seconds ago, but with his captain so close to him, looking at him like he’s a wounded puppy, he can’t keep it together anymore. John stays right in front of him, doesn’t flinch when Auston’s shoulders start to shake and the tears start to stream down his face.
“I love him, John,” Auston admits, defeated. His shoulders slump and he doesn’t really look at John, instead staring at his hands, his slides, John’s shoulder. “I love him, and he doesn’t love me, he’ll never love me the way I love him, and I think I might die. I actually think it might kill me, how much I love him.” John just shakes his head, looking sadder than Auston has ever seen him, and pulls him into a tight hug. He holds him there for a couple seconds, until Auston grunts a little and steps back. “Yeah, I, uh, I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. Love isn’t even a big enough word to describe the feelings I have for him. But he, uh, he doesn’t love me, and I don’t really know how to get over it.”
“Oh, kid, you don’t.”
“What?” Auston was expecting some sort of advice, maybe an ‘I know’, not a fucking death sentence.
“You don’t just ‘get over it’, kid. It doesn’t work that way. I’m sure you’ve had girlfriends you’ve ‘loved’, and you ‘love’ your dog, and your team, but this is a totally different thing. I believe that once in your life, you meet someone who changes the way you see the world. They take everything you think you know, throw it in the garbage, and reteach it to you. They show you what true, unconditional, absolute love is. You feel like you can’t breathe when you’re without them, and you only feel truly complete when they’re next to you. You can’t imagine your life without them. That’s your soulmate, and if you don’t end up with them, you might ‘move on’, you might meet someone and get married and have kids and have your dream life, but you’ll never truly forget them. They’re your one big, true, epic love.”
“Is that you and Aryne?”
John nods, smiling a little, but remaining somber. “Yeah, it is.”
“Is that, uh, is that me and Mitch?” “I think so, buddy. And if he doesn’t feel the same, it’ll feel like it’ll kill you, but I promise you you’ll survive. It’ll be hell, but you will get through it, and you will be happy again. Maybe never as happy as you are when you’re around him, but close. And if he does feel the same, you’ll be happy as long as you’re with him. Even when the entire world feels like it’s crumbling down around you, he’ll be there, and it’ll make everything kind of okay.”
Auston is unsure how to respond, how to say something even close to as emotionally intelligent as John. “What should I do?” he asks.
“I can’t tell you that, bud. All I can tell you is he is your one true, epic love, and if you let him slip away before ever telling him how you feel, you will never, ever forgive yourself.”
Auston nods and leans in to briefly hug his captain, then shakes his entire body out, takes a breath, and goes to strap on his skates. Mitch is his soulmate. It’s something he’s always had an idea of, something he always thought might possibly be true, but to hear someone else say it out loud, to hear the actual words spoken by his captain of all people, it convinces whatever part of him was holding out on the thought.
Mitch is his soulmate.
Mitch is his soulmate.
He doesn’t know if Mitch feels the same. In fact, he’s almost sure he doesn’t. But if he doesn’t say anything, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He pauses where he is, bent over, tying his skate laces. He sits up with his hands on his knees and looks at John, who’s across the room, tying his own laces. “I have to go.”
“And do what?” John doesn’t look up, but Auston knows he has his full attention.
“I just have to do something. I have to tell him, I think, but it has to be perfect, because he’s perfect. I have to, uh, I have to go,” Auston trails off and starts taking off his skates at lightning speed. John look up at him briefly, a small smile on his face.
“Don’t worry about anything, Aus. I’ll take care of Keefe.” Auston nods without looking at his captain, his mind spinning, but completely and utterly focused on the one thing he knows is true.
Mitch is my soulmate. I am utterly in love with Mitch Marner.
And I’m gonna teach him what real love is.
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icingspring · 4 years
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A list of things that GoT, Endgame, and TRoS have taught me:
-Satisfy the plot; if you set something up a certain way, don't just decide to deviate from it for no reason. As a creator I have a duty to satisfy the story, and also the audience. I want the audience finishing my story and going "Yes, that's the end." And be able to sigh, think for a moment, and feel satisfied. Not feel like their time was wasted.
-Answer the Questions; I might not be able to answer every question, but I can answer the points that need a solution. I can at least make it have a logical conclusion.
-Don't Kill a Character for Depth; Characters can die, but a character death should not be the substitute for emotional depth. There should be a reason for the death.
- Don't Unexpectedly Kill a Character; kind of a second part to the one above. Especially when it comes to main characters, just suddenly having them die when there was no reason for them to? Just so you can shock people? You should know the ending of your characters from the beginning of the journey. If you don't know their ending, then you can't truly bring justice to the character.
- Stop Being So Fucking Tragic; Look, sometimes tragic stories are beautiful, but I personally think they should mostly stay in the historical and indie genres. Not science fiction and fantasy. Some tragedy is good, but why the does THE END have to also be tragic? I go to movies and read books to ESCAPE tragedy and heartache. Yes there's a little through the journey, but the end is always worth it. Don't say your film/show is hopeful, or fun, or even bittersweet and not deliver. Say it with me now: A main character surviving ALONE is NEITHER hopeful, fun, or bittersweet. It's just fucking SAD!
-It's OK for the Audience To Guess the Ending: I think the biggest thing this decade is creators being obsessed with audiences not being able to guess how the story ends. Here's a fucking shocker for those creators: IF NO ONE CAN GUESS THE ENDING THEN YOU HAVEN'T SET UP THE STORY WELL! You can make an audience member go "hold up, is this ending going to happen?" And have that uncertainty, but if no one saw how your story would end (with the exception of mysteries) then you didn't set up the story in a cohesive enough manner.
-Once a Story Is Done, It Should be Done; I can slightly understand killing off a main character to prevent some other outside parties from putting pressure to make "more" even when the story is done. However, this is the point of standing your ground. You are the owner, it is your property, and you have the right to make the decision to say "No, I ended that story in a satisfying way. Yes, the characters are still alive but their time is over." Also, on a side note with that, make sure that if you ever sign your creative work to someone to help distribute, you make sure the contract says nothing about them owning the franchise and continuing it with or without your support.
- Romance Should Make People Happy; If your story is going to have a romance, please don't always make it tragic. Sometimes a tragic romance is beautiful and bittersweet. But when you already have characters who are damaged, bruised, touch starved, and need somebody to love and hold them, why are you making it extra tragic? Why are you making these characters so desperate for real happiness, then not giving it to them? That's dissatisfying, it's heart-wrenching in the worst of ways, and it makes audience's not want to go back and watch it again. Seriously, it hurts too much to watch. What a fucking concept: People don't like to constantly be sucker punched in the heart with endless suffering.
- Don't Create Unrealistic Expectations; These companies are trying so hard to keep their franchise a secret the day of the release; that I'm fine with. What I'm not fine with are what everyone else is forced to say to comply with said policy. They leave audience members with non-answers that give way to wild speculation, crazy different theories, and ultimately leads to everyone's disappointment. You don't want to reveal? Then simply say "I can't tell you." Or "I unfortunately can't talk about that, yet."
- Don't Fanservice; This goes in hand with the plot. If you have a multiple part series, you need to stick with your plan no matter what happens. Sometimes fans want a lot out of a story, which can be both a great and terrible thing. It shows interest in the project, but it also puts pressure on the creator to advance the plot lines the audience wants, and that could simply be too much for both the story and the creator. So stick with your gut, and only change a character or story arc if YOU decide that it's better that way.
These are all not necessarily for all three of them at the same time. Some are for two, some just for one, and some for all. Either way, they are things I have learned from being in these fandoms, spending so much time on each of them, and being brutally disappointed for varying reasons. 2019 has kicked my ass when it comes to fandoms and ships.
If anyone has any more they wish to add, feel free to give it a reblog with your own additions. I look forward to reading them.
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gustafsnightangel · 3 years
Text
Shattered Lives Ch 38 Pt 2
With the kids in bed, himself freshly showered, he brought the teapot and cups into her office and shut the door. He wasn’t sure if there would be raised voices, but just in case he’d seclude them away until they were done. Pouring her a cup he sat on the edge of her desk, the stroke along her hand jolting her out of lawyer land, a soft smirk tugging his lips. He’d never get over how beautiful she was, wicked smart and beautiful.
She looked at him, the tea in his hand and prepared herself for the argument she knew was coming. The fight he had every right to lay at her feet. She stayed silent, prepared to let him rage at her for placing herself in that kind of danger.
“I want to be so angry with you.” He said softly after a moment. “For putting yourself in that position, for not coming back upstairs with the kids. I want to rage at you for scaring fifty years off my life when I saw him hit you.” His knuckles grazed her cheek, the bruise already blooming. “But I can’t.” He said shaking his head. “I can’t because you were doing what you thought was right, with the split second you had to make the decision to keep the kids safe.” A few years ago this conversation would have gone very differently, he thought. Back then he would have been quick to anger and let the rage rule his mind, rule his actions, rule his life. Now? Not so much, he’d mastered that demon well.
“I know now I should have just stepped into the elevator and come back upstairs.” She said gently. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, she thought bitterly. “But it didn’t even cross my mind.” He wiped the stray tear away, she hated herself for scaring him, for the whole mess of it. “All I could think about was getting the kids away from him. I didn’t even consider getting myself away from him too.”
“And you did keep them safe love.” He smiled. “You sent them to me.”
“I guess I am learning.” She scoffed at herself shrugging her shoulders. He toyed with her hair, his fingers raking through the waves. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t love.” He said shaking his head. “Don’t ever apologize for protecting your kids.”
“Our kids.” She sniffed. “They’re yours as much as they are mine now.”
“I know. I guess I’m still learning.” He murmured. Leaning over he brushed his lips against hers tenderly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She choked, her emotions still too close to the surface.
“What are you working on?” He asked, determined to move past it, nodding a head toward her open laptop, their front door feed paused ready to be played.
“Something that stuck with me, but because my brain got rattled around in my skull I couldn’t be certain whether he’d said it or whether I was confused and just hallucinating.” She chuckled at his confused look. “Have you seen the feed?”
“Only the first bit to make sure it was working, I haven’t had a chance to really watch or digest it.” He said softly as she stood up and gestured for him to sit, taking up residence in his lap once he’d settled. He snuggled her in, long limbs securing her to him.
“Ignore what you see and listen to what he’s saying.” She pressed play and he listened, but nothing really registered as out of the ordinary, just some mumbling after he’d struck Sildie that he couldn’t really grasp the first time around.
“I’m missing something, I know I am but...” He fell silent as she cued it up at a specific spot.
“Listen, close your eyes and listen, it’s really faint but it’s there.” She hit play once his eyes closed.
“Not unless you want me to bite your dick off.” He heard Sildie say clearly and smirked, she would have too.
“Time to collect what I’m owed you little cunt whore.” It was barely audible before the crack of his hand hitting her face. That was a sound that he’d never get out of his head. “Always fucking with my life, you little bitch. First my cunt sister and now you. Ana said you’ve been trouble for her, accusing her, setting her up. First your brother fucked me over taking my sisters money, now you’re getting in the way with Ana. I’m gonna take what I’m owed from you, fuck the money, I’m gonna fuck you until...” Sildie pressed pause on the feed not wanting to hear or see the rest of it again. She’d watched it enough and Gustaf didn’t need to hear the rest.
His eyes flew open with a choked gasp and he stared at her.
“I only vaguely remember him mentioning Ana. My face was on fire and I couldn’t be sure.” She said quietly, eyes searching his.
“She sent him to hurt you?” He murmured in disbelief that Ana would have gone that far, his own brain chewing over the thought. A fresh new wave of rage started to simmer.
“It’s a possibility.” She nodded. “We won’t know for sure unless he starts spilling the details in a confession. But Elias has hated me for a long time love. He wouldn’t have needed much of a push to come at me.”
“Does Leon know about this? Lucas? Lindstrom? Fuck, everyone?” He asked his eyes widening as the extent of Ana’s involvement clicked. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly taking all that rage out of his sails in an instant.
“Take a breath love, and yes they all know. They have copies and a signed statement from me.” She kissed him slowly, a tenderness to soothe. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”
“This is good for us right?” He was unsure how he should feel, rage, anger, fear, joy, hopeful. His brain didn’t seem to know which emotion to settle on.
“It’s good for us, in a few ways. Elias will go away for multiple counts of aggravated assault, restraining order and court order violations. It was all caught on camera, it’s a done deal, I’ve filed the paperwork and sent it all to Leon, copies sent to Elsa, your lawyers. Family court will bury him for that alone, especially with multiple assaults already on his record. Then there’s the possible tie in with Ana.” She held up her hand to stop him from arguing as his mouth dropped open to do exactly that. “It’s only a possible, we have no proof it is her. All he says is Ana, it could be any Ana on the planet. Highly likely it’s our Ana but still. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That piece of information is circumstantial at best.”
“I see your point.” He said tersely, his own brain working through the information.
“If it is Ana it will not only hurt her case if there is a connection, but hurt him and Dana’s family. To be honest, I’m kind of ok with a bruised wrist and jaw when it will kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’m still not ok with him laying hands on you.” He said bluntly, fingers stroking down her good cheek to bring her closer for a kiss. She let him deepen it, not able to bring herself to mention she’d heard him call her his wife, the microphones barely picking it up, but it was there. The way it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, with so much love and conviction it had sucker punched her square in the gut.
“I’m ok love.” She said softly, her hand resting on his chest.
“Are you done in here for the night?” He asked, kissing her bare shoulder where her sweater had slipped down as she finished her tea.
“I can be.” She said softly. “I should be.” She sighed, knowing that if she pushed it any further the headache she currently had sitting behind her eyes ready to pounce would get worse.
“Headache?”
“Yeah, and my face hurts.” She winced as she realized just how much she’d been ignoring it.
“How’s the wrist?” He asked, brushing a finger lightly over the strapping the hospital had insist she wear.
“Not as bad as my face.”
“Well that’s something. Up for a soak? You need to switch off that wicked smart brain and let it catch up to the rest of you. It got a little rattled around in there.” His kiss gentle.
“Will you soak with me?” Her finger trailed down his jaw before she claimed that clever mouth tenderly. She wanted to see him calmer as well.
“No water sports.” He said gruffly, the smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.
“Spoil sport.” She pouted.
“But I’ll soak with you.” He kissed her softly. “Take care of you.”
“I think it’s my turn to take care of you, you’ve filled your quota for today.” She chuckled. “Maybe for the entire year.”
“We don’t keep score love, remember.” He murmured and kissed her longingly. “How about we take care of each other?”
“Now that I can get down with.”
“You take care of the teapot, I’ll run the bath.” He tapped her thigh for her to get up, but she stayed.
“I love you.” She said sweetly. “So much.”
“My Sildie.” He breathed. “My love.” He let the love for her pour out of him. “My home.” He kissed her tenderly. “You are my everything.”
While Gustaf readied the tub, Sildie rinsed the teapot and smiled as she looked around their home. Home, she thought, their home, their kids. Her hand went to her belly absently as that ever present question circled along with another. My wife, he’d said it with such conviction, complete commitment, that deep love he only had for her. “Do I want to be married?” She mumbled, almost startling herself with her own question. “Not that it would be much different than what we’re already doing.” She chewed on her lip and flexed her wrist wincing. “Just another question to add to the list I guess.” She muttered and turned off the lights and checked the front door.
She found him in their en-suite, the shirt already in the hamper, sweats slung low on his hips. Memories from their lazy morning flooded into her as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face between his blades. Her home, her man.
“You ok love?” He chuckled as he cradled her tender wrist to him.
“Yamnow.” She said and breathed him in, her cheek more a dull ache than earlier, she knew it would be worse tomorrow. He turned and helped her strip, holding out his hand for her to take so she didn’t slip as she climbed in the tub. He went out to the kitchen and brought back an ice pack in a towel and handed it to her.
“You’ll thank me tomorrow. Lots of ice now makes it more bearable in the morning.” He’d taken his fair share of knocks to learn that one quickly.
He scooped her into his lap, soaped his hands and massaged her shoulders as she held the ice to her face, the other wrapped against her wrist, and relaxed into him. His hands wandered, more to soothe and just feel her body than arouse. When she was nearly asleep he pulled the plug and dried her off, carrying her to bed and snuggling her in.
“Sleep now love.” He kissed her, lazy and slow, kisses that he cherished.
“Gustaf?”
“Mmmm.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead willing her to switch her brain off and let sleep take her.
“I love you and I’m sorry I scared you.” She mumbled.
“I love you too and try not to do it again ok?” He chuckled gently.
“I’ll try, I’m sorry.” Her voice barely there.
“Let it be done now love, sleep.”
“Kay.” She went under and he smiled at the sudden deadweight in his arms.
“I’m so in love with you.” He grinned, kissing her head and following her into sleep moments later, her scent soothing him.
@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb
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imagine-darksiders · 3 years
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Yooo, so I know a long time ago, you wrote a scenario where I think death and Draven were trying to help the human with her period. She was having bad cramps and needed pads and such. Do you still have that story? Lol, I’ve been looking through the tags, but can’t seem to find it (I’m also on my period, so I was reminded of the story and how good it was lol)
Oh yeah! The format was all weird on the old post, but hopefully it’s righted itself on this one.
War: The youngest rider of the apocalypse was slowly coming to learn that humans are far tougher than he’d initially considered. Specifically those humans who have a uterus.
“Oh, come on! Shit. There’s got to be some around here.”
War jerks his head to the side when yet another empty and slightly singed cardboard box goes sailing past his head. He raises a snowy eyebrow down at the offending object as it thuds softly against a shelf of mismatched bottles. Upon inspection, some of the oddly coloured containers have words like ‘shampoo’, ‘conditioner’ and the like. Truly, humans are bewildering.
The horseman’s other eyebrow rises to join its twin as he turns to peer down at you curiously.
“Y/n?” he pipes up, “What are you doing?”
The deep, rumbling voice of your travelling companion doesn’t disturb you from your search aside from tossing your head over a shoulder to look back at him and grumble, “Just looking for something. Won’t be a minute.”
War frown and tilts his hooded head to one side. You’d been ‘just looking for something’ in every single human supermarket you’d come across for the past two days. Something is clearly wrong, but no matter how much he probes, you seem reluctant to divulge anything to him.
Another small box bounces uselessly off his chest and he throws it a cursory scowl before stepping up behind you. He’s about to protest your vague answer when suddenly, you hiss and double over, clutching at your stomach and letting out a string of breathless expletives under your breath.
That in itself would be cause enough to alarm the hulking horseman. But what really rankles him, is that when you’d bent over, he caught a flash of something highly concerning and terribly familiar.
“Y/N!” the horseman barks, raising his hands calmingly, “Don’t move.”
You freeze in your spot, panic suddenly shooting up from your stomach and into your chest.
“Oh god. What? What is it!? Is there something on me? War? What’s wrong!?”
Honestly, you expected him to pull some kind of hideously mutated bug from your shoulder. What you didn’t expect, was for him to huff at you and press his enormous hand on your back, keeping you in place and growling, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d been wounded?” equal parts frustrated and concerned.
At his exclamation, you pale and shoot a glance back at him before you spot where his gaze is directed. With a curse, you stand up straight and slip out from beneath his hand, twisting yourself painfully around to see if-
“Damn it,” you seethe, “I really liked these trousers.”
War allows his mouth to drop open in a wide gape. Here you are, a small, frail little human, losing precious lifeblood and in obvious pain, but the object of your concern is none other than your clothing. He shakes his head and steps closer to you again. 
“If you are injured, allow me to-”
“Hey! Woah there!” you shout, jumping back from the approaching horseman and swatting his hovering hands away, “I’m not injured, I’m just….you know… “
Scowl deepening, War grunts at you questioningly and continues his advance. It takes you a second to realise that he does not, in fact, know.
“Wait….You don’t…” Your face falls incredulously with a hint of mild agony thrown in the mix as a fresh wave of cramps suddenly thrums in your abdomen.
You really do not have the time to explain anatomy to a clueless horseman.
You wave your hands dismissively in the air. “Okay, look. I’ll explain what’s going on, but I really need you to help me find a full box of these.” One of the box-projectiles is held up in front of the horseman’s face. He squints at the bright, eye-catching writing on the side and his lips twist around the foreign word.
“Tampons?”
You click your fingers and point at him excitedly. “That’s the one.” 
War casts his gaze around for a moment, then, his eyes land on something on the very top shelf, set far back from the edge. He reaches out and takes it up delicately in his large, gauntleted hand then pouts down at it and gives it a gentle shake. Definitely full.
The horseman passes the box down to you and waits with bated breath as you inspect his find. He almost blanches when you suddenly cry out.
“YES! YES, WAR! These are-” You clutch the prized possessions to your chest and beam up at him, “-These are perfect. Thank you!”
His chest swells with pride.
“Alright,” you shove the tampons into your rucksack and place your hands on your hips, “Ready for code red. I’ll need to find a bathroom soon.” 
“Code red?” War squints in confusion and pulls his lips back, exposing his teeth when he remembers that, essentially, you are still bleeding. Humming, you grimace up at his befuddled expression.
“Riiiight, I still owe you an explanation, don’t I?”
He nods urgently.
“Okay, I’ll explain while we try to find some Ibuprofen,” you rumble, placing a hand on your back and wincing at the ache there. War’s vibrant eyes catch the look of discomfort on your face and he immediately starts to pick up boxes, peering down at the faded little words that he doesn’t recognise. “Eye-eyeboop….?” he trails off and stares down at you apologetically. You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing.
“Come on, it won’t be here, it’ll be in the pharmaceuticals.” Placing your delicate hand on his own, metal arm, you steer the giant horseman out of the isle and launch into what’s sure to be a painful explanation.
That night, your period hit you full force. It alarmed War to no end when you’d suddenly shot up from your seated position next to the fire you’d built and went hurtling behind a rusted transit van whilst shouting, “I’m alright! Don’t follow me, I’ll be right back!”
Naturally, War had gotten up to follow after you, but another scream of, “Don’t you dare come around this van!” had him freezing in place and pacing impatiently.
After only a minute or so, you return, sporting a miserable expression and an exhausted gait.
You collapse on the ground once again, turning to look up at War when he thuds down next to you.
“Code…code red?” he asks, testing the unfamiliar phrase on his tongue. You simply nod and pull your rucksack out from underneath you, rustling through it until you find a bottle of half-drunk water and a small, white painkiller. War was the one to find it, in the end. Only after you’d all but fallen down into a weeping heap before you even made it to the medical supplies. He’d….admittedly lost his cool a bit and started to frantically scour the shelves for the odd pills whilst you sobbed miserably.
In the end, he hadn’t allowed you to walk back to the camp.
Now, you couldn’t be more thankful to the Red Rider if you’d tried. He looks on edge, unsure of himself for once, and thoroughly out of sorts. He wouldn’t admit it to you, but he hated the fact that you were hurt and he hadn’t been able to stop it.
He’s pulled from his thoughts when your head suddenly rests against his arm and you sigh tiredly.
“This sucks. First the end of the world and now this.”
Your hands fall on your stomach and begin to massage it. “Thanks for your help, War.”
He grunts in reply, raising his arm so that you fall against his side instead, then he allows it to fall back to the ground, pinning you against him slightly.
“You should rest over the coming days,” he rumbles.
Your eyes flicker up to him, “War, no. I can’t ask you to put your revenge quest on hold for me.”
“The Destroyer can wait,” the horseman argues softly, “If you bleed out-”
“War, I told you, I’m not going to bleed out,” you scoff.  He simply grumbles quietly, but otherwise doesn’t respond.
For close to an hour, you both sit and stare into the fire. War is as alert as ever, ears pricked and hand resting close to Chaos Eater, just in case. You, however, begin to feel your eyes droop. The painkillers have finally begun to work and the distinct lack of pain coupled with the horseman’s warm half-embrace is enough to tempt you closer to sleep.
Reluctantly, you make to stand up, hoping to get to your bedroll before you collapse, but you’re surprised when War suddenly tightens his hold on you and shakes his head. Surprised, but too tired to argue, you thump back down into the nook at his side and rest your head back against the broad chest.
War offers no explanation for his sudden clinginess, nor do you ask for one. Instead, you simply smile up at him, which he doesn’t return, choosing to furrow his brow at you and demand, “Sleep.”
You’re only too happy to oblige.
Death and Draven: Well it had to happen eventually. It had been a little under a month since you’d literally come crashing down upon the eldest horseman’s head, that fateful day after the apocalypse. But really? The Eternal throne? Certainly not the best location for a period to strike. Still, as you’d said -
It had to happen eventually.
Death stalks across the courtyard towards the Chancellor, who sneers at the approaching horseman. You, however, manage to make it about halfway around the training circle that Draven and his spectre apprentices occupy before you’re suddenly hit with the sensation of getting sucker-punched in the gut.
“Holy shiiiiiit,” you whine loudly, “Death?”
The horseman pauses mid stride, tossing an irritable look over his shoulder, but the irate glare quickly fades into an uneasy frown as he takes in the washed-out pallor of your face. He elects to ignore the Chancellor’s barked question, instead turning on his heel and making his way back across the courtyard.
Behind you, a gruff voice asks you if you’re alright. Then, a large, spectral hand lands on your shoulder and before you know it, Draven is looming at your back with his brow bones knitted together, concerned. It suddenly dawns on you that the undead warrior used to be a human himself. Perhaps if anyone were to understand, it would be him. You cast the approaching horseman a wary glance and take note of how many residents of the Eternal Throne have stopped what they’re doing to watch. You cower self-consciously backwards into Draven’s chest and whisper up to him. “So, you know that….thing, that happens to a woman every month or so?” Trailing off, you crane your neck backwards to look up at the undead. He casts you a quizzical look for a moment, tilting his head to the side. All it takes is an expectant raise of your eyebrows and suddenly, it hits him.
“Oh…OH!” The Blademaster’s loose jaw nearly unhinges in disbelief. “You mean, right now, you’re…?”
You nod desperately as Death finally joins the both of you. If you’d been paying proper attention to the horseman and not the excruciating pain in your abdomen, you might have noticed how he bristles when Draven wraps a protective arm around your shoulders and leans close to your ear to whisper something.
“Undercroft?” the man murmurs.
You sigh with relief and affirm, “Undercroft.”
Draven hums before giving you a gentle squeeze and nudging you towards Death.
“Take Y/n down into the Undercroft,” he tells the horseman, who looks as though he’s about to object to being ordered around by the undead, but Draven continues, “S'in the kid’s best interest. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he turns to fix a ghostly eye on the onlookers.
“Don’t recall telling you lot to stop training!” he barks fiercely. “G'wan! Get back to it!”
Death replaces Draven’s arm with one of his own, draping it around your shoulders and smirking when the other undead all fall over themselves trying to pretend they hadn’t been gawking at you.
“Would you care to tell me what’s going on?” the horseman mutters in a hushed tone. You open your mouth to reply but bite your tongue when a stab of fresh pain lances through your stomach. So instead, you groan and hobble towards the undercroft with a highly confused Death in tow.
—---
Down in the storage room beneath the Dead King’s throne room, the horseman gently guides you to sit down on a pile of mouldy old cloth. It smells like the dead, but then again, that isn’t exactly unusual in this realm. Besides, right now, it’s the most comfortable place in the universe.
You briefly bring Death up to speed on your anatomy and what’s going on, and when you do, you’re surprised to see him violently smack his open palm against the side of his head, hissing to himself, “Of course, how could I have forgotten. Idiot.”
As it turns out, Death is all too aware of this particular plight.
He mumbles an apology and slumps down onto the rags beside you.
“Is there…” he hesitates, coughing before asking, “…anything I can do?”
You swing your head towards him slowly and blink, smiling a tired smile.
“Got any painkillers in your Mary Poppins bag?”
He snorts. This isn’t the first time you’d likened him to this ‘Mary Poppins’ character.
Unfortunately for you, he shrugs. “Fresh out, I’m afraid.”
“Oh well,” you say with a wince. “Can’t have everything, I guess.”
The horseman beside you hums in agreement, then turns to face you properly, shifting around on his knees.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
You meet his gaze with a bewildered frown. But, hesitantly, you gesture to your entire stomach. “All over. Head, back, stomach mostly.”
There’s a responding hum, then a large, cold hand is placed firmly over your stomach and starts to rub in small, gentle circles.  
Of course, you flinch away, mostly due to the supernatural chill of his skin, but when you recognise that he’s actually trying to be considerate, you fall still and watch him, astonished.
The horseman doesn’t meet your curious eyes in favour of staring down at your stomach in mock concentration until there’s the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs.
As if it’s become a natural reflex, Death suddenly throws his arm out in front of you and whips his head around to the source of the noise but he relaxes the moment he sees it’s only Draven.
“How’re you doing?” the warrior asks when he spots you and the horseman sitting at the back of the storage room.
A quick glance at Death, then you look back to Draven and smile up at him.
“Better now, thanks. Where’ve you been?”
The pain in your stomach flares up again, causing you to curl in on yourself a little more and snap your legs shut for fear that your trousers could be stained without you realising it. Draven shoots you a look of sympathy, replying, “Went to see the old goat. Thought he might have something that can help.”
Death’s hand returns to your abdomen and begins its gentle, circling motions once again. Meanwhile, you groan and stretch yourself out, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“And?” you grumble.
In response, the Blademaster holds up a familiar packet, so familiar, you could almost weep. You honestly thought you’d seen the last of them since leaving Earth.
“He gave me these,” he grimaces, “Not like any clouts I’ve ever seen, but Ostegoth assured me they were all the rage back on Earth.”
A giggle stirs in you and bursts out before you can stop it. He looks so utterly out of place. If you were a little less tactful, you’d tell him he looked adorable.
But instead, you offer him a grateful smile and hold out your hand to receive the blessed packet of sanitary towels.
“Draven, you are a Godsend. Thank you.”
The Blademaster ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly with a calloused hand. “Dunno about that, I’m just sorry I couldn’t find something to help with the pain,” he laments.
“Don’t worry about it,” you chuckle and throw your thumb over at Death, “got a horseman for that.”
Said horseman huffs. “I can always stop,” he threatens, lifting his hand slightly.
“Actually,” you shift forwards, getting ready to begrudgingly stand up, “You might have to stop, for now. I need to put one of these on.” You shake the packet in your hand and Death follows you up. He moves to stand next to Draven and they both just stand there, watching you curiously. Peering at them, you clear your throat pointedly and in an instant, both Blademaster and horseman jump, spinning around to avert their eyes and give you some much-appreciated privacy.
You can’t help but to laugh through the pain and shake your head amusedly. Gazing down at the sanitary towels in your hand, you make a mental note to thank Ostegoth profusely and ask him how he managed to get his hands on them at all. You may still be in pain, craving something sugary and wanting to just scream and cry at the same time, but at least you won’t have to worry about leaking. Draven assures you that you can take out any of your frustrations on him, if you’d like while Death says that he can always ‘lend a hand’ should you need it. You smile widely at their backs, glad that they’re so understanding.
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characteroulette · 3 years
Text
Ace Attorney fave case list
okay so I wanted to write about my fave AA cases but in like. a weird award list sort of way. so I assigned each of my fave cases some top-tier totally unbiased awards!
(there will be spoilers)
(also this is just the main games. the AAI games, the Layton game, and DGS all should get their own categories) (and I haven’t played either DGS games yet)
//
Best Protagonist Showcase --
  > 2-4!! Farewell, My Turnabout!
This case has some great tunes and is a very, very good look into Phoenix Wright as a character. This is probably the best look into our playable character the games have ever given us. I mean, AAI2 got close, but seeing Phoenix struggle against both himself and the case (and Edgeworth) is just. *chef’s kiss* Perfection, I love it more every time I come back to it.
Best Prosecutor Showcase --
  > 1-4!! Turnabout Goodbyes!
This is still the only case we’ve gotten where you defend your rival prosecutor and it is very near and dear to my heart because of that. I feel like this is the reason why Edgeworth is such a popular character, because all of his angst and depth comes out here and it is amazing. Making a rival character like Edgeworth whom we learn about to this extent and can connect to so much? Genius. And we see babies!! That’s important to me.
Best Villain --
  > 1-5!! Rise from the Ashes!
Look you cannot tell me there’s been a better villain than Damon Gant. Chief of Police for two years after manipulating a serial killer case, making Edgeworth present forged evidence and throwing the Chief Prosecutor under the bus for it. He got too comfortable in his seat (as Von Karma did before him) and found out the hard way that committing a crime is a lot harder than it is to catch a criminal! (Also Phoenix really came into his own in this case, it’s beautiful.)
Best Assistant Showcase --
  > 6-4!! Turnabout Storyteller!
okay you can tell I’m a sucker for the chance to work with your prosecutor buddies because holy shit, the only reason I stopped hating SOJ so much was because this case happened (and it only gets better from here). It’s just so nice to see Blackquill adjusting to life now that he’s not on death row! Having friends he wants you to defend! And then GRABBING YOU UP IN A THREAT!! Holy shit words cannot describe how awesome it was to see that.
Best Bait and Switch --
  > 3-5!! Bridge to the Turnabout!
Oof okay so setting up the whole Dahlia mystery and then taking Phoenix out entirely for the first day of the trial?? Honest to goodness genius move, holy shit that was such a game changer for the series. This case has a lot of bait and switches happening, but that one. That one is my favourite.
Best Mess --
  > 4-3!! Turnabout Serenade!
This one was a real close call between it and 6-2 (or 3-1, if I’m being honest), but watching the concert video over and over again has the same vibes as watching the Blue Badger in 1-5 and therefore it wins out This case sucks on all logical levels, but it’s fun and I like the progression it takes for the characters, so it is the best mess hands down.
Best First Case --
  > 4-1!! Turnabout Trump!
Holy shit this one is such a gut punch, what a way to start off a game. First setting up the scene, in which it’s been seven years and Phoenix was mysteriously disgraced as a lawyer. Then it builds, giving us Kristoph being just a little suspicious, enough so that the player is steered towards suspecting him for the big reveal. And then!! The bloody ace!! The betrayal!!! This case is meant to throw everything you know about the original trilogy on its head and it does it so well that it’s just. The best.
Best Final Case --
  > 6-5!! Turnabout Revolution!
Listen okay 2-4 is so good and 3-5 is also great, but 6-5 really steals the show. First ever appearance of a Civil Case?? And it’s against Phoenix Wright??? Amazing. All the investigation beforehand exploring Apollo’s very mixed feelings on his foster dad?? Perfect. And then the investigation in Khura’in and the trial after!! Holy shit, this entire case was such a showstopper that I will adamantly tell you to please play SOJ if you, like me, skipped it because it was digital only.
(the mmd models are the only thing that I actively hate in this case, but your mileage may vary on that one. I personally think mmd models look so damn awkward anytime they show up and it just ruins any and all tension the scene is trying to set... XD)
                                             and, of course,
Best Turnabout --
  > 1-3!! Turnabout Samurai!
Honestly, this award could go to any case (and 1-2 is a close second in my heart), but seeing Edgeworth realise right at the end that Phoenix’s arguments are making sense, that he’s right, is just so good. I like this case a lot more than a lot of others do I think just for this reason alone. And all the Gumshoe friendship building is also important. Dee Vasquez deserved better.
//
....and that’s all I got! Try this out for yourself if you want, I like hearing people’s opinions and I’d like to see what all awards and reasons others might have for their own favourite cases.
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ppatpranss · 3 years
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GAYA SA PELIKULA EP. 04 Review: Finding someone you can be alone together with
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“Dahil taga-rito ka rin.”
Gaya Sa Pelikula is pretty much my fixation the past month, and I’ve reached peak devastation after Friday night’s episode. Being reminded that love is a beautiful thing can either make you happy or sad, or both. While it is true that there is nothing wrong about being alone, and that our feeling of completeness should not depend on another person, it still hits different when you find someone you can come home to. Or, in Vlad’s case, slowly realize that home might be Karl.
This show tells us that love is often a slow progress, that you don’t really find it in big moments. It’s in the small, everyday thing you notice or discover about a person. And maybe sometimes, all you need to get through a day is something as simple as a hug (something sorely missed in this time of pandemic). Karl and Vlad, thank you for that reminder.
Disclaimer: I kinda messed up the gif qualities for this post. Since I’ve no time to fix them now, I’ll just do better for the next episode huhu.
[WATCH THE EPISODE HERE]
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Law of Proximity
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It’s the day before Christmas and Karl is decorating the place. He’s obviously enthusiastic about it because he had garlands, table pieces, and a whole Christmas tree with star. Even cuter, he made two Christmas socks with “KARL” and “VLAD” on them. I can’t believe this kid – he’s letting Vlad slowly assimilate into his life and he doesn’t even realize it.
Anyway, Vlad comes home and is obviously not a fan of the decorations. He made this whole argument about Christmas being a pagan-turned-capitalist tradition, while Karl can only tell him to not be too harsh to baby Jesus (lol). Vlad disputed this even more, making a comment about how Jesus is way too forgiving to be a Capricorn. Despite himself though, Vlad was smiling while looking at the socks and told Karl before he left, “Hey, Arki, if it means that much to you, you can keep the socks there.”
Note: He calls him “Arki” as in short for architecture because Karl is an Architecture student.
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We learn a bit more about Vlad in this episode during his videocall with Sue, who we discover is his best friend. She was teasing him about his current “live-in partner” and Vlad launched into this pretty affectionate way of describing Karl and his many quirks. Karl is a very neat person, but hates washing the dishes. Vlad also finds it cute (but he didn’t say this, I’m doing the honors for him) whenever Karl would get excited every time they watch a film together. All of these, Vlad is saying with a big smile on his face, and ending it with a hopeless sigh-like, hay nako. Sue caught it.
Sue tells Vlad about the law of proximity. She made an example of it through Big Brother wherein some people end up being in a relationship because they spend too much time together. Vlad deflects and says he’s not about to fall for a straight guy, “I refuse to be a plot device that triggers somebody else’s identity crisis. Not again.” Nonetheless, it’s good that Sue opened this up because feelings can get really tricky when you spend so much time with a person even if it’s just a short amount of time. Actually, it feels like you’re in a time warp.
Naturally, Vlad sees a lot of things about Karl that he may find either endearing or annoying. It’s obvious though that he finds Karl endearing and he, too, is starting to catch feelings. His reservations are preventing him to make a move, not just because he thinks that Karl is straight but mostly because of a past experience or trauma. He can’t be brave about just putting himself out there so he’s trying to proceed with caution.
Sue still encouraged him to try to invite Karl to spend Christmas with him instead of wallowing alone watching white boy Sundance films (I’M DEAD. I love Sue so much). Vlad actually looked like he’s considering the idea even if he was being a baby about it the entire time.
Theme Song Test
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Meanwhile, Karl is also pre-occupied when Anna knocked on his door to use the WiFi. She’s on the phone with a client, visibly mad that they are forcing her to rush the output. This went on and on with Karl just watching her pace around the house. After the call, Anna immediately jumped on the idea of them watching a movie together.
Moments later, Karl and Anna are seated on the couch crying over what is obviously She’s Dating the Gangster. Anna tells Karl that she’ll use the restroom first and it is in this moment when Vlad finally arrives. He must have gotten used to seeing Karl crying at films that he is not really surprised to see him in tears now. It’s cute how he got all fidget-y while trying to ask Karl that maybe they can have a proper Noche Buena, “Tayo. Noche Buena. Together.”
Karl tells Vlad that he needs to go home for Christmas, and that he’ll carpool with Anna. “Who’s Anna?” says Vlad and that is when she popped out to introduce herself. Her presence in the house pretty much stirred conflicted feeling on the side of in Vlad especially when she decided to stay over for another film.
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Another movie ends and Karl and Anna are still seated on the couch. Vlad looks hilariously miserable watching them together. Is it even safe to say that Karl and Anna are being flirty? I don’t know, they are mostly loud and touchy the entire time but maybe Karl is really just comfortable around her. Nonetheless, it was so funny seeing them in their elements talking about random things while Vlad is constantly rolling his eyes at anything that Anna says to Karl.
Anna then talks about the theme song test. Apparently, when you listen to a song and a face of a person comes on to your mind, it means you want to be with that person. Karl says he’s never experienced it because he does not like anyone at the moment anyway. Vlad looks so done with them already, but he especially acted out when Anna was about to make Karl listen to a song to do the test. Vlad started getting whiny over the unwashed mugs and Karl is still clueless about his true intention. Even as Karl tries to stop Anna from leaving, she got the hint and said goodbye.
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Karl tells Vlad to stop nagging about the unwashed mugs and he had a biting comeback that Karl is not the only one who can get mad about dishes and mugs piling up. Karl thinks that Vlad is acting jealous because he’s putting up an act for Anna, then tells him that Anna knows about them anyway. This agitated Vlad more, and when Karl was telling him to drop the jealous boyfriend act, he actually said “Who says I’m acting?”
Both of them were taken aback and there was this one long painful second before Vlad saved himself by adding, “Angry. Who says I’m acting angry?” Thankfully there are dishes and mugs to wash otherwise he would have made a complete mess of himself right then and there. As usual, they continued to banter with Karl touching Vlad’s hair again to annoy him.
One of the things I liked about this episode, by the way, is the presence of both Anna and Sue. We got to see a different side of Vlad and got to know him more through Sue. When we thought Anna will simply serve as a jealousy bait, she actually helped propelled the romance more by telling Karl (and Vlad by extension) about the theme song test.
“The ever-burgeoning need for people vs the effort put into self-preservation”
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Vlad wakes up looking for Karl but of course he’s no longer there since he went home to his family. Vlad pretty much spent the entire day on the couch and was already getting drunk come the evening. He keeps sending Karl messages but is left on seen. He even sent him a couple of selfies. When Karl still hasn’t replied, he sent him a video of him jokingly attempting to ruin the Christmas decorations. Finally, Karl called, and Vlad got really excited about it.
It’s probably because he’s drunk but Vlad keeps on making these little moves on Karl – asking him if he thinks he’s cute, and that he wants Karl to pick him up. But the video call ended as soon as it started because Karl needed to join Noche Buena with his family.
A call from Ate Judit came in but he did not answer it. Then, when his phone rang again, he finally answered it. It was his mother. It’s interesting to me that Vlad would answer this call because of course, what we know so far is that they are not in good terms. But I suppose the holidays really make you soft and set aside any feelings of anger if you can at least have a moment of conversation with someone you still value with your heart. There’s a gut punch when Vlad actually said he’s having fun with friends to his mom, when he’s all alone in the apartment. And to make it slightly more painful, the call ended with an “I miss you.”
Vlad opened his message thread with A. Right then and there, a birthday greeting appeared complete with an “I miss you” (Please, lumayo ka nga Hudas! #OustHudas). He did not get a chance to reply because Sue called and it made him visibly happy. He opened the gift she sent him only to discover that it might have been switched with Karl’s gift to his parents because the content was a framed sketch of his family. As the night wears on, you feel Vlad wallowing more and more into his aloneness.
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Nica del Rosario’s Tahanan plays as we see Vlad look around the house, feeling how empty it is. The lights are shining around him, but they don’t look bright at all, at least for Vlad. We see a montage of him dancing around the house, and when he finally checked the content of the VLAD Christmas sock that Karl put up for him, it has a gift inside. Turns out, it was slippers with a note, “Dahil taga-rito ka rin.” He saw another wrapped gift and it was another one by Karl this time with a note, “Bahala ka na kung sa’n mo ‘ko ilalagay” and it was a picture frame. Vlad looked so happy and was hugging the picture frame.
I think that Vlad is a sucker for gestures, of having someone who seems to know him and care for him. I liked seeing Vlad in this state of being alone and lonely. It was personally heartrending to watch, but it tells us so much about what he is as a person. He is fine being alone. I think it’s how he’s operated throughout the years of discovering himself. True, he has an overbearing-but-caring sister in Ate Judit and a wonderful best friend in Sue and they know so much about him, but it’s also the reason why it’s not easy for him to open up about these things. I think that when you go on for so long being “someone” for a specific person, your tendency is to continue putting up that act. This is not to say that Vlad is faking who he is, but that there’s this difficulty for him to fully express himself around them. So seeing him being open about this hollowness that he’s been feeling especially on his birthday was a welcome narrative.
It's that dilemma: your need for people to completely understand who you are, but also just as you are about to bare yourself, you automatically put up these defenses to kind of preserve that little piece of you to yourself. But in a way, you’re expecting someone to get a read on you – that maybe someone would see you even if you don’t offer that piece of you so voluntarily. I think that is Karl for Vlad. Karl takes him by surprise every single time by doing all these gestures for him, or when he overhears what he has to say about him. I suppose that at the end of the day, you just want to find someone who effortlessly gets you.
Theme song test: Tahanan
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As Vlad stands in the middle of the living room hugging the picture frame that Karl gave him, he sees Karl come in through the door. Karl walks towards Vlad, and Vlad puts down the picture frame and also walks towards Karl for them to meet halfway. They have this giddy smile on their faces and for a while they were just staring at each other. Until both of their faces start to get closer and just as you think they’d go in for a kiss, they hugged. Both of them smiling, looking comforted and relieved. One thing of note as well is seeing them brush their hands up and down each other’s backs to hug tighter. Tahanan continues to play and the camera moves in circle around them (this scene is a nod to GOT 2 BELIEVE), until we settle back to Vlad standing alone in the living room, and what he was hugging was the picture frame and not Karl.
I am specifically in love with the part of the song that Pat Lasaten chose for the moment when Karl came in. I’m sorry I don’t know much about music, but I am referring specifically to timestamp 22:39 to 23:02. The main song kind of took a bit of a stepback and there was what sounded like a saxophone solo (?) that accentuates it. That was pretty genius because it really moves the scene. It highlights the magical feeling of Vlad finally finding Karl’s face in the midst of the song – someone who he wants to be together with. Extra painful though that after all that music swelling, you end up with a shot of him hugging a picture frame.
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I agree with Justine when she said during the Friday night Banlaw sesh that she likes that they went in for a hug instead of a kiss right away. It feels more intimate and more sincere. It feels more sensual. Also, it fits the current pace of Karl and Vlad’s story because these are two people still discovering each other. It also hits different because hugging a person means offering comfort. In Karl and Vlad’s case, it highlights their thing of finding homes in each other. In Episode 03, Karl offered Vlad a home by giving him back the key. In that moment, Vlad accepted it because it was already attached back to his keychain. But in this episode, and through this hug, we see Vlad fully embracing that this is now his home. He isn’t just accepting the key to come and go as he pleases. He now wants to stay there.
The shot of Vlad hugging the frame always gets to me. Amazing camerawork and good music timing. I cannot watch it without crying because the feeling of loneliness really felt raw and palpable. This, and the hug, made everyone soft and fragile while watching the episode last night.
Being alone together
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Vlad wakes up the next morning with a different set of clothes. All of the Christmas decorations are gone but we see balloons and an entire HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner hanging. He looks around a bit and when he turned towards the kitchen, Karl was there standing with a stack of pancakes. This time, it’s not a dream.
Both of them looked sheepish the entire time. Vlad was obviously touched and was even apologetic about bothering Karl the other night. Meanwhile, Karl joked and called him “Mr. Jockstrap” because of the switcheroo that happened with his gift and Sue’s. Vlad asks him what happened to the Christmas decors, and Karl just said “meh” and imitated Vlad’s “Jesus is too forgiving to be a Capricorn.”
The entire thing was just adorable. They were just smiling throughout, and Karl told Vlad to finally blow the candle on the pancake stack to make a wish. We don’t know what the wish was, and I’m not even sure we’ll ever know. Gege mentioned that he told Ian to make a personal wish for both him and Pao during the scene.
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As usual, Karl and Vlad settled on the floor with chips and soda to watch a film. This time though, Vlad is not watching the film because he’s watching Karl. Vlad watches Karl dip his chips on the soda before eating it. As always, Karl gets so absorbed with the film, almost in tears now, as he mindlessly eats a huge piece of chip much to Vlad’s amusement. At one point, they both reached for the bowl and their hands grazed each other. Karl momentarily looked at Vlad’s direction, and so does Vlad towards Karl – but Vlad’s look lingered and a small smile forms across his face. It was his aha moment, I suppose.
I find it pretty amazing that both Karl and Vlad understood their feelings in a sort of unexpected way because it was so… mundane and normal. For a show that has a lot of these big moments, it sure takes a quiet approach when it comes to feelings and I love that. Because it is so quiet, you don’t really notice it creeping inside your heart. It kind of just fills you in until it’s completely embracing you and you understand it, right then and there, that well, I guess this is it.
Apparently, it’s not really about washing the dishes. It’s really about the good they do for each other every day. Nothing felt more apparent to Vlad than Karl’s absence. The law of proximity builds familiarity and in those short few days, Vlad did not just get used to Karl being around, he yearns for it. I could say the same for Karl, too, seeing as he rushed home to prepare all these things for Vlad. But for now, both of them do not know it yet.
To reference the Wattpad screenplay, all this time Karl thinks that he was the only one waiting for Vlad to look back. But, who knows, maybe Vlad was waiting for Karl to look back, too?
Epilogue
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In the last three episodes, it was always Vlad moving closer towards the couch. Karl was always seated at a specific side, not moving at all, but he would always throw glances towards Vlad. This time though, we find Karl seated on the floor beside Vlad.
The episode ends with a powerful quote yet again, “kapag may tinuro sa’yo ang pag-iisa, yakapin mo.”
Comments; Ramblings
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It’s funny how Episode 03 launched a friendly bardagulan on Twitter between Vlad Austria Apologists (VAA) and the Vlad Austria Fault-Finding Committee (VAFFC). But the truth is, both Karl and Vlad are the actual clowns for each other and we’re just here to witness them fall in love and watch their connection go deeper.
Personally, in terms of a solid episode, my favourite is still Episode 03 because it had all these elements that moved the story along and built up to that amazing Selos ending. It was something else. However, Episode 04 was the one that made me feel the most (so far). I had a hard time processing it after watching it the first time and unlike the last three episodes, I could not rewatch it right away. I mostly just felt weak and I might have cried a little. Maybe because it reminded me so much of what it is like to fall in love – that indeed love is still a beautiful thing. Sometimes we use being alone as a defense mechanism to feel less alone, but at the end of the day we also crave for someone we can go home to. Karl and Vlad’s feelings continue to unravel and that makes me think about how, as we fall in love, we also discover a lot about ourselves.
To me, this is what’s happening with Karl and Vlad. As they learn more about each other, they also discover a lot of things that they don’t know they’re capable of. They find themselves doing things they never thought they will ever do or feeling things they thought they’ll never feel again. I’m curious how they’ll really meet halfway. For now, I think Vlad is more of the type of person who needs to confirm with himself first if he truly feels romantically for someone before he takes action or shows these soft and caring side of him. Meanwhile, Karl seems like the type to act first before thinking about why he does these things. Maybe it’s just the way he is – a pure-hearted good person. I just hope he’s ready to answer the question when it gets asked.
For now, I appreciate this slowburn.
Gaya Sa Pelikula airs new episodes every Friday 8PM (Manila time) on Globe Studios’ Youtube channel. Please only stream it legally!
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GAYA SA PELIKULA Ep 01 Review [x]
GAYA SA PELIKULA Ep 02 Review [x]
GAYA SA PELIKULA Ep 03 Review [x]
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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years
Text
Read on AO3
“Dingus, haven’t you noticed something weird?” Robin asks as they are shelving the returned tapes of the day.
“Mh… What? No… What?” Steve replies, as eloquent as ever.
“Billy rented The Shining.”
“Yeah… and so?”
Steve doesn’t see anything weird about that. Not that he has watched it, but it is supposedly a good movie, why wouldn’t Billy rent it?
“Well, it’s the third time he rents it.” Robin informs, frowning.
“And…? Maybe he really likes it.”
“It’s the third time, in two weeks, Steve.”
“Oh… okay… so that’s kind of weird.” He admits.
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“Yes…?”
What does she want Steve to say? If Billy wants to obsessively watch some creepy horror movie, it is none of Steve’s business.
“Okay. Nevermind.” Robin replies, before pointing out: “you placed that tape upside down.”
Oh… he did.
 -
Billy is about to snap. Ever since he’s been discharged from the hospital, he goes to Family Video every day. Well, every day it is open, that is. And he doesn’t do it for the movies. Not really. He does it for Steve Harrington.
At first, he doesn’t say much. He just goes there in an overlarge hoodie, picks a random movie and proceeds to stare at Steve for as long as he can without it becoming suspicious. Then, he hightails out of there and goes back to his flat.
But then, he starts dropping hints. He rents the same movie several times, he tries to say more than two words to Steve, he starts wearing nice shirts (fully buttoned, but still) and fancy cologne. And none of it does anything, except maybe make Steve’s coworker look at him in assessment. Her attention isn’t the one Billy was looking for, but that’s what you get when you go after the most clueless person ever, he supposes. Because, either Steve really is that clueless, or he purposefully ignores Billy’s cues. And Billy prefers not to think of the second option at all. If he does start thinking about it, he’ll realize how it makes more sense than Steve not understanding what Billy is getting at, considering King Steve has had more conquests than someone clueless would ever have.
It doesn’t matter, anyway. Billy has come to a decision. He’s got to talk to Steve, lest he explode and do something even stupider than confessing his attraction… Like grab Steve by his ugly green Family Video jacket (in which he still manages to look infuriatingly handsome) and plant one on him.
Billy is going to man up, be a functioning member of society or whatever, and politely asks for what he wants. If it goes wrong, it’s not that big a deal: Billy’s has very little dignity left to lose.
So, the next time he enters Family Video, making the bell above the door jingle and Steve and Robin look up from their respective tasks, Billy doesn’t even pretend he came here for a movie. He bypasses the shelves and goes straight to the counter, behind which stands a surprised Steve Harrington.
“Can I help you?” He asks, his wide eyes fixed on Billy.
Billy has to look down to actually get the words out, Steve’s intense staring making him squirm.
“Would you… go on a date… with me?”
“You… wait, what? You want me to go on a date… with you?”
Billy looks up briefly, annoyed that Steve needs a confirmation even though Billy couldn’t have made his invitation any clearer. Steve’s eyes got even wider, which Billy wouldn’t have thought possible. He softens a fraction.
“Yes, pretty boy. ‘s what I said, innit?”
“Uh… sure… yeah, I’ll go with you.” Steve stammers.
He still hasn’t blinked a single time, and his tone is stinted. Should Billy be worried? Steve doesn’t really sound enthusiastic for someone who just agreed to go on a date. He makes it seem like he’s agreeing to a dentist appointment, or something. Flattering, really.
“Are you sure about that?” Billy asks, narrowing his eyes.
Sure, he really wants that date with Steve, but only if Steve’s a hundred percent in too. He doesn’t want him to agree to it just to spare the feelings of the guy who nearly died saving one of his kids. If that’s what Steve is trying to do.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m sure. Honest.” Steve assures.
Billy still isn’t convinced, but he leaves it at that in favor of asking when Steve is available. He knows the guy’s schedule by heart, by now, but he doesn’t keep track of all the time Steve spends with the nerds and his coworker/friend.
When the actual date comes, a few days later, Steve doesn’t seem any more enthusiastic than when Billy asked him out. If anything, he looks more reluctant.
He barely says anything on the whole way to the diner, and once they reach their destination, he lets Billy do most of the talking and only gives one-word answers. And talking is still hard for Billy after the whole near-death experience, so he had kind of expected Steve would be the one leading the conversation.
Because, as far as he knows, Steve is talkative. A real chatterbox. He’s often bantering with Robin when Billy comes into Family Video, and whenever he drops Max off somewhere and sees Steve with Dustin, they always seem to be having some kind of rapid-fire conversation. So him being silent must mean he’s really uncomfortable in Billy’s presence. That’s quite the bummer.  
“Why did you say yes?” Billy ends up asking out of the blue, unable to take one more second of the awkward silence surrounding their table.
“What…?”
“To the date… why did you say yes?”
“Because… I wanted to?”
Steve’s questioning tone is like a sucker punch to the gut.
“Are you asking me?” Billy snaps.
“No, of course not! I’m just surprised you’re asking… what other reason would I have?”
Steve’s eyebrows are knitted, making him look confused. But Billy’s the one confused, here, alright?
“Well, you tell me. You’ve been looking like you’d rather be anywhere else ever since I picked you up… It doesn’t scream that you’re a willing participant in this date, princess.” Billy mumbles, pushing his now cold fries around his plate.
He feels one of Steve’s feet nudging his leg under the table and startles before relaxing.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to come off like that. I swear I agreed wholeheartedly… It’s just…” Steve apparently can’t finish the thought and heaves a sigh.
“It’s just what?”
Couldn’t he spit it out already? Billy is on the edge of his seat, there.
“I’m… uh… Promise not to laugh?”
Billy rolls his eyes.
“I promise, pretty boy. Now please tell me what it’s all about.”
“I’m really nervous.”
Billy doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t feel like laughing, at all. He does stare for a long while, though. His jaw has dropped, and it takes Billy several seconds to recover enough from the surprise to close his mouth. Steve “The Hair” Harrington… King Steve… is nervous to go on a date… with Billy? Billy who has no friends, scars all over his body, and only goes out of his flat to get groceries, go to therapy, and rent random tapes at Family Video? It sounds surreal.
“See, that’s ridiculous.” Steve says, fidgeting with the straw from his untouched chocolate milkshake.
“Hey, no. I can’t say I saw that coming, but I don’t think it’s ridiculous, okay? I wished you had said something earlier.”
Billy would love to take Steve’s shaking hands in his to steady them, steady him, but they’re in public so that will have to wait.
“I didn’t want to be a burden… I mean… you went through so much, and you had no problem asking me out… whereas I’m just a mess… I haven’t been on a date in ages… ever since Nancy really, and I really like you, I didn’t want to mess this up… I didn’t want you to realize I was lame… and I ended up messing it up even more. I’m sorry.”
Steve was speaking quite fast, in a voice almost too low to be heard. And, damn, there was a lot to unpack here. Billy didn’t know where to start.
“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. You’re not a mess, and you’re not lame, and you didn’t mess anything up. We’re still here, right? This date isn’t over.”
“Really?” Steve asked, looking up tentatively from his milkshake.
“Really. Oh and, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I was a nervous wreck when I asked you out, so don’t go thinking I had “no problem” doing it.”
Billy wouldn’t usually admit that, fearing it could make him look weak. But Steve has been honest with him, so it’s only right to do the same in return.
“Really?” Steve asks again.
“Really” Billy confirms again.
Steve smiles at him, and finally takes a sip of his milkshake. When Billy kisses him on his doorstep later in the evening, he can taste the chocolate on Steve’s tongue, and thinks that this first date wasn’t so bad, in the end.
*
Thank you for reading ;)
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ourladytamara · 3 years
Text
Recreation Time
Tamara 03/09/2021  - @_ourladytamara
CW: CNC (“C”NC), prison, general mean girl stuff, hazing, beating, girls with huge meat, cutting/knifeplay at the end
Upstate Women’s Correctional Facility wasn’t known for its hospitality.
You stuck out like a sore thumb as you raised the pick high and triumphant above your head before bringing the steel down, metal on stone ringing out across the yard. Your hair, longer than the others, sways enticingly with your motions. The orange jumpsuit struggles to cling to your lithe form, two sizes too large – they didn’t have one small enough for you, but luckily, your girlish hips do a good enough job at keeping it in place.
The sun glares down on you just as the guards do while you ready the pick to strike again. Dragging it across the dusty earth, gripping it with intent before you begin to lift – you’ve done it countless times in your two-day stint so far and you’ll be doing it countless more before your year’s sentence is up. Was this fair retribution for your combined sentences of jaywalking, shoplifting below $20, and street harassment? No – your attorney was very sure you knew that.
Were you in a position to challenge the ruling or the musclebound bailiffs enforcing it? Definitely not – and thus, here you are.
Something blocks the sun from behind you and forces you to abort the swing. You spin your head around just in time to meet the fist of a woman practically twice your size.
“’Sup, faggot?” she barked above the clap of her fist against your face. In an instant you buckled, like tissue paper wet with a spray bottle; your baggy jumpsuit padded the blow as you hit the rocky ground and stared up at your aggressor.
She was far beyond imposing. Well beyond seven foot and with musculature to give the average U.S. Marine a severe inferiority complex, not to mention the impressive rack blocking just as much of the light as her now-folded arms, the woman stood above you in a jumpsuit half-rolled down to expose her sweat-slicked undershirt and sculpted olive-hued body. The light shone from her completely clean-shaven bald head, her left brow shaved and replaced with a finely-detailed tattoo reading “DADDY,” cascading into a full face of other, equally-detailed stick-and-pokes; the most prominent among them being the black-and-white symbol of Venus, a large A scrawled in the center of the design’s hoop.
“Asked you a question, didn’t I, puttana? You gonna fuckin’ answer?”
Her words rattle your already-rattling brain. Before you can get a further word out, she spits, saliva impacting your bruised cheek with a disgusting sclerp.
“P-Please, stop!” you choke, blocking any further abuse with a meekly-raised hand and nursing your wet face with another.
“That’s how you’re doing, eh? Ingrata, bitch. ‘Please stop’ is how you’re feeling about me?” snaps your assailant in reply, readying herself to spit again. “I’ll show you something to beg me to fucking stop over --”
“Violetta, fuck’s sake, girl, don’t break ‘em without me bein’ there first.
Another voice breaks her predatory gaze. Smoother, deeper, but just as commanding; the glare above is completely stifled by another figure stepping in front of the sun.
“What? They’re just a fuckin’ newbie, Tanya, they can handle being roughed up."
She’s shorter, closer to your stature but not by much. Her coffee-colored figure’s much stockier and bottom-heavier than her cohort, fit and built for grappling; she, too, bears a “DADDY” tat across her eyebrow, opposite Violetta’s – evidently, the name of the one who’d attacked you.
“Yeah, but I wanna rough 'em up, too.” replied the second woman, finally turning to speak to you. “Oh, I’m Tanya, by the way – this is Violetta. We're kinda in the business of breaking girls like you - I really hope you’re not a virgin, cutie.”
“I want its ass.” the stoic, taller woman replied.
Panicking you look around the rock yard, hoping someone’d see the blatant violence and step in – but all you’re greeted with is the sight of a veritable circle of people centered on your crumpled body, all of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder and forming an unbroken arena. You begin to shout before you notice that almost every woman around you has a similar tattoo as Violetta – the A-marked sign of Venus. Some are on faces, some on hands, and some on exposed legs, shoulders, breasts – but all uniform. The syllable in your throat is stifled, snuffed like a birthday candle.
You’re helpless as they descend on you. Violetta makes the first move – or second, if you counted her sucker-punch – and descends on you like a hungry wolf. She grabs you by the thighs, yanking you and your baggy jumpsuit down across the rough gravel towards the two of them. It happens quicker than you can process, and by the time you’ve even realized what’s happening, Tanya’s halfway into squatting over your face.
“First thing you gotta learn in here, cutie, is to keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” Tanya says, unzipping her jumpsuit which she’d already loosened around the collar to expose her modest cleavage. “Between the guards not caring and our little chokehold over every other girl in here, screaming ain’t doing shit – so you gotta put that tongue to better use than tryn’ to yell.”
Tanya’s jumpsuit hit the ground just above your head, pulling your attention away from Violetta attempting the same to yours. Her powerful fingers practically tore the zipper off as she ripped it down your body, breasts popping out into the muggy air. A scream forced its way out of your lungs as you felt the sun-warmed zipper slide down to your waist, your crotch, and ultimately to the bottom where it was ripped away by Violetta’s grip.
You were quickly shut up by Tanya’s ass. She crawled forward and planted it firmly on your face, spreading her enormous cheeks apart to give you the best access to her waiting, puckered hole. It was slick with sweat and almost overwhelmingly musky, a clear product of her rec-time workout; it was all but impossible to breathe without huffing her scent and making yourself dizzy.
Immobilized by an unholy amount of ass, you could only writhe in pathetic non-resistance as Violetta ripped away your jumpsuit entirely, rolling it down your hips and leaving you totally exposed. Your cock pops out first, impacting your stomach with a slap; it’s modestly-sized, but nowhere near the unseen length the woman was fishing from her pants. She spits again – this time, into her hand, coaxing a yelp out of you and getting your mouth open for Tanya.
“There you go, newbie, that’s the spirit! It’s just like makin’ out – use your tongue!” coos the woman sitting on your face just as Violetta spreads you open. You’re tight, practically a virgin except for the few toys you use on yourself – you’d never had anything like the veritable third leg swinging between Violetta’s toned thighs. “Ugh! There you go, girly! Fuck!”
Without a word she slams her hips into you. The pain is searing, instant, but coated in saccharine ecstasy as your prostate is practically obliterated from the sheer force of the 13-inch rod splitting you open. Tanya wiggles your hips and coaxes your grimacing tongue into her hole again; you know better than to keep her waiting and begin to oblige, stuffing the full length of it inside of her, savoring every inch of her plump, meaty hole.
Tanya’s heavy balls rest on your chin, jiggling as she begins to stroke herself off while you eat her out. They’re covered in small, curly hairs, tickling you just like her ass; they’re one of the few things you can still feel as your lips and jaw begin to numb from the exertion.
“Christ, this bitch’s ass is fuckin’ fine.” Violetta croaks, booming voice clearly marred by the pleasure as she uses you like a fleshlight. “Yeah, you’re comin’ to my cell with me after this, puttana, I need more of this.”
Her balls slam into you every time she bottoms out, your guts more than slightly rearranged. The bald woman slaps you across your bared ass and leaves a bright-red mark before continuing to plow you. Tanya does the same to your tits, slapping and squeezing them while she pumped her thick, uncut cock between them, the head peeking out from her foreskin with every satisfied forward motion.
“Hah! God, I wish they’d fuckin’ arrest more of you useless bitches – it’d keep things more interesting ‘round here!” Tanya exclaimed, eyes rolling back.
“Yeah – for how little fight you put up, you’ve got some primo fuckin’ hole, ragazza.”
“Fuck!”
Tanya grinds her asshole into your face, hole clenching tightly around your tongue as she begins to cum. Her hips buck forward, crushing your nose underneath her considerable weight; seconds later her cock erupts into the first, second, and third glue-thick jets of cum, all landing in spattered trails across your sweat-baked skin. Each pulse causes her balls to tense up against your chin, adding to the sensory overload.
It’s nothing compared to Violetta, though. Her equine cock slams into your back walls one final, triumphant time before it begins to inject burst after burst of boiling-hot sperm into your innards. In seconds she’s coated you white from the inside out, the overflow seeping out of the airtight seal that is her cock, lodged in your asshole. Every spurt hits your insides like a softball throw, wrestling you almost as roughly as the woman herself.
They cum for another minute, unbroken, before they began to settle back down. Tanya sighs deeply before squatting and rising off your sweaty, ruined face. Saliva and sweat cling pubes to your face, wetting your hair; the woman’s scent is practically seared into your sinuses by now, still just as potent even after she stands off of you.
Violetta follows a moment after, groaning as she pulls her half-turgid length out of your gaping ass. Cum drips from your busted-out hole and onto the rocky soil below, all over your legs, jumpsuit, and ass. Half of the fluids coating your lower body seem to be Violetta’s.
“Damn, girl, if only all the hazings went that easy!” Tanya exclaims, rising to her feet and zipping her jumpsuit back up. “Shit, I could do that every day.”
“Not like anyone’s stopping you,” Violetta returned, chuckling, “I mean, that’s what I plan on doing with this little cream-filled cannoli here.”
Both women loom over you as they had before – not like you could really tell, though. Your mind is buzzing, empty, hazy; you’re too fucked out to really form words, let alone independent ideas. Was this really what you deserved for all you’ve done? Such minor crimes?
To be fair, your attorney didn’t warn you about the musclegirl prison gangs.
“You wanna hit the weight room ‘n see if that little piece of ass with the pigtails is still in there?” Tanya asked her partner, finally composing herself.
“With how bad you split her open, yeah, she’s probably still there – oh, but wait…”
The larger woman digs into her baggy jumpsuit pocket and procures a small shiv, cut from a piece of scrap metal and sharpened to deadly efficiency on some kind of angle grinder.
Tanya grins at her.
Violetta bends down and grips your neck, holding you still as she presses the crude blade to your forehead. Blood seeps from the razor-thin lines, but the pain never progresses beyond a dull sting.
“Hold still – this won’t hurt much.”
She works quickly, your mind far too dulled from potent cock to feel the pain, anyways – but soon she finishes, standing up to admire your work.
“Looks good on ‘em, don’t it?” she asks Tanya, who replies with a wicked grin.
You raise a hand to her work and trace the incised outline, wiping away the blood – a sign of Venus, the ring indented with a large, capital A.
“Yeah – they’ll fit right in.”
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