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qveerthe0ry · 4 months

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Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it.

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure.

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?”

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony.

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it.

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with.

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him.

Usually it’s none of his business.

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him.

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything.

“Yeah but what about last night?”

Marcus shrugs.

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette.

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?”

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands.

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic.

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes.

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work.

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades.

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control.

“That’s it man, just breathe.”

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before.

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off.

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes.

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.”

“Girl problems?”

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment.

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up.

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales.

“I’m fucking gay.”

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues.

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus.

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.”

Marcus sniffles and nods.

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.”

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?”

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing.

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.”

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries.

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.”

“When did you know?”

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it.

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.”

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him.

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next.

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?”

Dieter shrugs.

“Depends on the guy.”

Marcus sighs.

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?”

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?”

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights.

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?”

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question.

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?”

Dieter chuckles.

“All kinds of things, babe.”

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest.

“Would you show me?”

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to.

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.”

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought.

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy?

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet.

“What?”

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?”

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated.

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.”

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile.

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.”

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair.

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning.

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young.

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get a college degree after all is said and done.

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating.

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this.

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet.

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?”

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together.

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans.

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths.

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache.

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away.

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion.

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together.

“It’s not that,” he says.

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches.

“You really wanna do this with me?”

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking.

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand.

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go.

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom.

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind.

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze.

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.”

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there.

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more.

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles.

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest.

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath.

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles.

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.”

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next.

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen.

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up.

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?”

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face.

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on.

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?”

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them.

“I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Dieter does chuckle then.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames.

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this.

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again.

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines.

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles.

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet.

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft.

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst.

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open.

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.”

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same.

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes.

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly.

“Just like that. Is this still okay?”

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it.

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter.

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.”

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere.

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it.

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin.

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples.

“Does this feel good?”

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes.

“Yes.”

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose.

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep.

“Is this still okay?”

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response.

“I think so… just nervous.”

“Still good nervous?”

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh.

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers.

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone.

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours.

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again.

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss.

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn.

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips.

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.”

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up.

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains.

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time.

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas.

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.”

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while.

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his.

“Can I try on you now?”

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes.

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away.

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?”

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt.

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.”

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles.

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter.

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.”

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away.

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.”

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it.

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body.

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit.

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot.

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning.

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own.

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb.

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck.

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it?

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled.

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life.

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him.

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip.

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.”

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together.

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans.

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone.

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.”

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again.

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs.

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas.

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.”

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth.

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more.

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.”

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left.

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.”

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?”

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide.

“Will you teach me?”

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really.

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.”

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs.

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face.

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles.

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time.

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums.

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.”

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs.

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says.

“No?”

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.”

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source.

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in.

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.”

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him.

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him.

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.”

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead.

“Are you alright?”

Marcus clears his throat as he nods.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks.

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.”

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet.

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.”

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.”

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip.

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.”

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience.

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.”

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention.

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair.

“Play until you win, babe.”

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration.

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft.

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning.

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth.

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much.

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.”

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free.

“What’s wrong?”

Dieter huffs.

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.”

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase.

“How are you feeling? Still gay?”

Marcus laughs against his lips.

“The gayest I’ve ever been.”

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him.

“Really though, are you still into this?”

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt.

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs.

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard.

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand.

“What’s the lesson?”

Dieter smirks at the eagerness.

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow.

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches.

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together.

“Is this okay? Like this?”

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack.

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together.

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.”

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.”

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock.

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin.

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists.

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath.

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity.

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up.

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before.

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in.

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours.

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop.

“How do we taste together?”

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm.

“Like we were made for each other.”

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean.

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth.

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.”

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip.

“It’s an acquired taste.”

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out.

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation?

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him.

“Should I uh… go… now?”

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled.

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back.

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time.

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…”

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied.

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?”

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels.

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.”

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.”

Dieter huffs.

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?”

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.”

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can.

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.”

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm.

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep.

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus pike x dieter bravo #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024

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ravenmichaelisstuff · 2 years

Text

(PART 1 )

I think A LOT about Soap trying to give back the childhood Ghost lost. (Part 4) Warning: this one is a hurt\comfort

Ghost never slept well, but recently it was getting worse. He despised his own room because being there meant going to sleep. Sleep meant tossing in bed for hours until he could see sunshine again because if he got any shut-eye it was filled with nightmares- filled with memories of his father and the things Roba did to him, the things he made him do.

But Ghost couldn't go like this for the rest of his life, he had to go to sleep. He knew that the longer he waits, the more snappy and brody he gets. He gets frustrated so much easier, and when you have people under your command it's not really a good match.

Snapping at his teammates become frequent, even at Soap. It was unpleasant to be around him for the past few days, and Soap tried- really tried - to ask Ghost if something was bothering him, but it only made him more defensive. Soap didn’t deserve that, he had to go to sleep.

So the faithful night he took a hot shower to loosen up his muscles, took a sleeping pill, and forced himself to lay down and close his eyes. He regretted it.

It was painfully quiet, he couldn’t make out his surroundings, it was all a blur of familiar places, yet nothing felt right. Sadly he could recognize all the bodies surrounding him. Gaz, Price, Rudy, Alejandro, and Laswell- all completely still, cold. Bullets all around them. And then he heard him.

“Simon…” There in his arms laid Soap, eyes foggy and unable to focus. He was weakly grasping at Ghost. “Too late… Ye left us.”

“Soap! I wouldn’t! Johnny-”

“You let us down…” Soap’s words were no more than a weak whisper and his eyes closed softly like he just went to sleep.

“No, no, no, no…” Ghost wept, cradling his sergeant to his chest. “Don’t leave me Soap. You can’t leave! JOHNNY!”

He woke up covered in a cold sweat, he couldn’t take a breath. Ghost wanted to vomit. He never dreamt about others, always about himself. He couldn’t erase the picture of his dead team- friends, Johnny. He had to check on him. Before he knew he pulled his balaclava on with trembling hands, his throat was sore, he had to be screaming.

He was on his way to Soap’s room in a blink of an eye, only when he stood before the sergeant’s doors he felt that his balaclava was soaking wet. Soap couldn’t see him in that state, what would he think? How someone like him- weak and fragile, could protect him? A man like him should just deal with it, not-

“Ghost!” Johnny stood right in front of him, doors open. “Ey, ye with me?”

Ghost couldn’t bring himself to answer, he just stood there.

“Ok… ok, come on, Si we won’t be standing ‘ere.” He made space for Ghost to enter his room and locked the door after him.

Soap could take a closer look at Ghost now. He saw through the mask- red, teary eyes, wet streaks on the thick fabric. Ghost was hyperventilating.

“Dear God… Ghost wha-”

“I should go.” He cut in, voice raspy, about to turn around.

Soap gently put his hand on Ghost’s chest, stopping him. “Si-”

The small touch of Soap’s warm hand right on his heart broke him to pieces. He sobbed and pulled Soap into a bone-crushing hug. Soap didn’t take long to reciprocate, he hold Ghost flush to his body. Ghost’s breathing was slowly evening out with every inhale of Johnny’s body wash he got.

“Wanna talk about it? I heard my name while asleep, though something happened.” Soap spoke up, running his hand between Ghost’s shoulder blades. "I wanted to go look for you."

Ghost just shook his head. “Can I stay?” He mumbled.

“You don’t have to ask.” Soap walked them to the bed, pulling Simon to lay on his chest.

Ghost could hear the strong beat of Soap’s heart.

“Try to not think about it, Lt.”

“If only it was this easy, Soap.” Ghost felt the arm around him tighten.

“I know…” Soap was quiet for a little bit. “I will take yer mind off of it.” He seemed to be embarrassed about what he was about to do. “I might be terrible at this.” Soap took a deep breath.

“Dèan an cadalan 's dùin do shùilean,

(Go to sleep and close your eyes)"

Soap quietly sang right to Simon’s ears.

“Dèan an cadalan beag na mo sgùrdaich;

(Have a wee sleep in my lap)

Rinn thu an cadalan, 's dhùin do shùilean,

(You went to sleep and closed your eyes)

Rinn thu an cadalan, slàn gun dùisg thu!

(You went to sleep, be well without waking)”

Ghost couldn’t understand a word, but his heart and soul seemed to be mending with every word.

“Cagaran, cagaran, cagaran gaolach

(Little darling, little darling, beloved little darling)

Cagaran foghainteach, fear de mo dhaoine

(Heroic little darling, one of my own kin)”

Soap’s singing wasn’t clean or professional by any means, but it was filled with care. It was more than enough to make Ghost’s eyelids heavy again.

“Thuit e na chadalan, thuit e na shuainean,

(He fell asleep, he fell into slumber)

Caithrisidh ainglean gu càirdeil mun cuairt dha;

(Angels keep affectionate vigil around him)

Cluinnidh e an guthan a' cagar na chluasan,

(He can hear the breath of a whisper in his ears)

'S bidh fiamh gàire air gràdhan na bhruadar!

(and the loved one will smile in his dream!)”

Soon Soap heard soft snoring accompanying him.

“Sleep well, m’eudail.”

And maybe, just maybe Ghost still heard that, thought it was a dream. A good one.

This one turned out to be a little different huh... Look, it's still fluffy, right? RIGHT? I am wondering what to write next <3

I will post it on Twitter and ao3 tomorrow, bc I am beyond tired. You guys can feel like VIPs I love all the feedback <3

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 2 years

Text

Them reacting to you tripping in front of them

characters: Hu Tao / Dehya x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Dehya Drip Marketing got me acting unwise. So I decided to write something for her even though I slept 3 hours today and haven't written anything in a while, so I'm really sorry if there are any mistakes.

Also, this is one of my first times writing for Dehya, so if I got something about her wrong, I'm sorry

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Hu Tao

Like it or not, as long as your fall wasn’t lethal Hu Tao wouldn’t be able to hold in at least a giggle or two, or even break out in full out laughter. She would of course help you, you were after all one of the few people around she really wouldn’t want to have as a customer any time soon, but that would probably have to wait a bit, no matter how much you pouted.

“Like I said, Qingxin Slime Condensate isn’t *that* bad-”, you barely managed to finish your sentence before being met with the unpleasant feeling of nearly face planting into the ground, barely managing to put the hands you so fervently used to gesture just a second before in front of you. And while you escaped without too much physical harm, your dignity took a massive hit the moment you let out a way too high pitched yelp.

It took the funeral director a couple of seconds to process what had just happened, but once she did, she wasted no time at all before bursting out in laughter, trying her best to calm herself down as she put her hands onto her stomach and mockingly imitated your yelp.

“Oh my sides- you should have heard yourself! It sounded so-”, she didn’t even bother to finish her sentence, too busy with trying to take a few deep breaths and wiping away her tears before once again looking down at you, nearly falling into another laughing fit once she saw you pout.

Finally she snatched your arm and started helping you up, but not without a big smile on her face of course.

Dehya

While working as a mercenary had a fair share of up- and downsides, the moment Dehya caught you before you yourself had realized that you had tripped, you couldn’t help but be thankful for the reflexes she appropriated during her working hours, even if, as you would no doubt soon notice, it had placed you in a slightly awkward position.

“That was close. Pay more attention or you might not get as lucky next time”, she slightly lectured you while still holding you in between her arms, not thinking anything to be wrong with it until she noticed your silence, causing her to finally look back down to you, only to be greeted with the sight of you staring at her in awe.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”, Dehya asked, feeling herself grow slightly embarrassed by it, causing her tone to come out more defensive than intended.

“Oh- er- nothing. I just found your reflexes really cool”, you were quick to try and play your blush off, not really sure what you were saying as you managed to take a step back, finally letting you take a deep breath instead of getting flustered by the sudden, although anything but planned, hug.

“Anyway, it’s getting late, let’s call it a day”, you continued your thoughtless rambling, even though a single glance at the sky made it pretty clear that it was nowhere to getting late. Something you would have certainly noticed if your brain were working right, instead you showed her a quick smile before going on your merry way, immediately stumbling again the moment your eyes left the ground.

#hu tao imagines #hu tao x reader #hu tao x you #hu tao x y/n #dehya imagines #dehya x reader #dehya x you #dehya x y/n

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slasherbish · 1 year

Text

Woods Part 3

The sun had started to set and the rain was now a light drizzle. The temperature was also dropping. “How long until they come looking for you?” You asked wanting to know if you’d end up spending the night with a killer or not. “Tomorrow probably. Preston will be there. Ignore him he’s an idiot.” He responded. You pouted, the thought of staying the night in creepy woods with a killer that video taped everything made you shiver. Gathering your thoughts and emotions you realized you didn’t know his name, It seemed like at this point knowing each other's names would be okay. “Um my name is (y/n) by the way. What's yours?” you asked, now facing the disfigured man. “Jesse” his phone said. “It’s nice to meet you Jesse.” You said with a smile. Night fell quickly.

Your stomach growled loudly in the early morning hours. You had barely slept due to fear of what might happen. Jesse woke up to the sound of your stomach, making a confused look he raised his eyes to meet yours. “Oh I’m sorry my stomach woke you. It’s almost like I haven’t eaten in god knows how long since you kidnapped me.” You said with a hint of anger seeping in. A second later you realized you just basically yelled at a serial killer and covered your mouth with your hands in shock. You were about to apologize when his phone talked “You have bite. I like fire”

“I’m still sorry. I’m just so hungry and tired.” She said apologetically. His phone spoke up again “You would probably be a better addition than Preston” She tried to figure out what he meant and then it hit her “Are you offering me a job?” You asked. He only shrugged. At this point the sun was rising and out in the middle of nowhere it was a breathtaking view. You even smiled at the sight. Unknown to you your forced companion had noticed the smile, he thought it was a beautiful smile.

The two of you spent the morning rebuilding the fire and adding in anything that made it smoke more. You had come up with the idea of a smoke signal and Jesse was impressed at your thought process. He hadn’t thought about needing to signal your exact location since the phone by this time was nearly dead and not able to transmit it’s gps signal. The smoke signal rose high into the sky, it would be easy for a plane or helicopter to see from a distance.

Since neither of you had the survival skills to know which plants were edible you sat trying to make a small spear with the use of one of his knives and a stick. Since you were the faster of the two it would be your job to spear the animal. You were not looking forward to it. Jesse tried to reassure you that it would be okay since it’s for survival.

Finally you got the courage to try. It didn’t take long for you to find a lone rabbit grazing in a field. Doing your best you missed by a lot and the bunny left in a hurry. “Dammit” you cursed. Jesse silently chuckled at you. Even though it was a silent laugh due to him not being able to really make noise you could sense it and so you turned around giving him a death glare. The large man playfully put up his hands in mock defense. “Oh my gods you have a sense of humor” you said with a dramatic gasp.

He didn’t show it often but he did in fact have a softer side. At work it was necessary for him to be the stone cold stoic killer that he is, but in free time he was more relaxed and kind. He no longer saw you as his prey or a threat so he let the walls slip down for a bit. She was relieved that his mood had seemed to improve. After a few more tries you finally managed to kill a larger rabbit. With the brightest, most proud smile you had you held up the dead animal. Jesse clapped to show that he too was proud. He knew how to skin and cook the animal and so he did that half of the work.

By this time it was noon and the two of you sat happily eating the cooked rabbit. Just as the meal was finishing up you hear the sound of helicopters and ATV’s. Your eyes widen slightly in fear. Jesse easily sensed this and typed “It’s my company. Don’t tell anyone about me being nice.” the phone said as he put a small amount of sap onto his mask to act as a temporary adhesive. You frowned at this, his face was something you’d grown to like, it was friendly and kind. It pulled you back to reality that most people saw him as something monstrous. You wondered if his company even knew what he looked like.

A gun in your face snapped you from thoughts. In front of you was a man not as tall or intimidating as Jesse. He had black hair and a wicked smile. “Preston” the phone in Jesse’s hand said. “Oh you’re the annoying one J-Chromeskull was talking about.” Your face lit up as you realized this. The smile on Prestons face left in the blink of an eye, being replaced with a frown/scowl. “You little bitch!” He yelled in your face. You only giggled through your fear. This only angered him more. A woman walked up behind Preston and pushed him aside. It was clear he was the lowest on the food chain.

“Shut your mouth Preston. Jesse wants her alive.” The woman said calmly. Subconsciously you walked back and bumped into someone. “I..I’m sorry” you stuttered out turning around to see Jesse. The sudden arrival of thirty or so people was overwhelming. The woman eyed you before saying “My name is Spann, I work for Chromeskull.” She said. You nodded trying to collect yourself. “I’m (Y/n)” You managed to say. “I know” Spann said. Looking over the womans shoulder you could see a still angry Preston barking orders at the workers. Jesse put a large hand on your shoulder as reassurance.

“You have two options now that you know about this organization. We kill you or you work for us.” Spann gave you the ultimatum.

@slashershell

#horror #jesse #jesse cromeans x reader #jesse cromeans #laid to rest #laid to rest 2 #spann #preston #slasher x y/n #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher

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deonideatta · 2 years

Note

Bots. Yeah. Same problem here 😭

Anyway, drabble prompt: classic "sick fic" for TwiYor?

They never has anyone take care of them, so the awkwardness are there, but also genuine concern.

Hello, thanks for the prompt!!!! This is definitely longer than a drabble but I had fun with it lol. And in my defense i didn’t know that apparently a drabble is only supposed to be like 100 words 😂😂

It took a bit long to finish because I got sick myself midway through writing it lol. At least I can say that all the details for the sick parts are based on fresh and recent first hand experience haha

But yea here it is!! Hope you enjoy!! :)

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

Twilight does not forget things. Least of all mildly important things, like his umbrella on a day when the forecast won’t stop bringing up the rain. And yet, when he reaches the hospital exit at the end of his shift, he realizes with a start that he’s left it at home, by the door in the umbrella stand. Despite his best efforts he makes it home soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair like it’s mocking him.

Yor takes his coat to hang in the bathroom, and Anya carries a whole pile of towels over to him. He takes just one, drying himself off as well as he can. But even after he’s changed into drier clothes he can’t shake off the cold, shivering all through the evening despite Yor and Anya piling blankets over him.

He brushes off their concerns, though he imagines it’s hard to take him seriously from underneath a mountain of blankets. He doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, but he heads to bed a bit earlier than usual on Yor’s insistence. A little extra sleep probably won’t hurt.

He wakes up the next day with a deep seated ache in his muscles. The mere action of turning to check the time takes far more effort than it should, and his eyes burn as he squints at the clock in the low light.

He tries to get up, and promptly lies back down when his muscles scream in protest and his head spins. His senses come to him as if through fog, and he registers vaguely that his throat hurts and his room is way too warm.

At first, he wonders if he’s just tired. There’s always some degree of exhaustion lingering in his bones, but he’s a master of staving it off, and not letting it influence the standard of his work. But it’s just past 6am, and he’s pretty sure this is the most he’s slept in ages.

Has he been poisoned? Some kind of nerve agent? He stares groggily at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Even through the mental haze he knows it’s unlikely. No, this is probably just the result of the unholy union between the rainstorm he’d been caught in and weeks of getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep per night.

Twilight groans in annoyance, making a new effort to get out of bed. This time he succeeds. Well, partially. The moment he stands up he has to sit down again, breath coming in short, frustrated puffs.

He tries again. There’s work that need doing, he doesn’t have time to be sick. If he just manages to get up and douse himself in cold water, he’ll probably feel fine enough to at least deliver some reports. Moving at a quarter of his usual pace, he manages to make it to his door and halfway to the bathroom before Yor intercepts him with a greeting from inside the kitchen.

“Good morning Loid, did you….” she trails off as she takes in his face. Whatever she sees causes her cheery smile to drop, and Twilight frowns. Surely it’s not that clear that he’s sick.

“Loid, are you alright? You look really ill!” Yor’s voice is filled with concern, and she rushes out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, studying him worriedly.

“I’m alright, Yor, don’t worry,” he says. It’s his least convincing lie ever, pathetic in everything from its delivery to the tone of his voice. “I just need a cold shower, and I’ll be fine.” He tries for a smile, knowing it looks feeble even before the worry in Yor’s expression deepens.

Twilight is just about to force out another half-hearted reassurance when Yor reaches up and puts a hand on his forehead, mirroring the action with her other hand on her own forehead. The contact and the proximity are the final straw for Twilight’s already struggling train of thought, and the protests die in his throat.

Yor pulls her hand away suddenly, like she’d been burned. With how warm he feels, it seems fitting.

“I’m sorry- I just,” Yor stammers, gathering her hands together. Her concern for him seems to override her embarrassment, and for some reason Twilight feels vaguely flattered. “I didn’t mean to overstep, but Loid I think you have a fever.”

That checks out, given the headache and the warmness. With the sore throat, it might even be the flu. He doesn’t manage to say any of that, suddenly hit by a wave of lightheadedness.

He must have stumbled, because Yor's hand is suddenly on his arm, steadying him.

"Loid, I don't think you should go to work today," Yor says, and she sounds nervous and firm all at once. “And fevers are best treated with lukewarm water, not cold.”

"I appreciate your concern Yor, but I have things to do," he starts, and he's vaguely aware of how petulant he sounds, like Anya asking to watch another episode of Spy Wars before bed. And speaking of Anya. "Anya needs to go to school as well, I need to help her get ready."

Yor's hand on his arm is cool against his flushed skin as she shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll help Anya get ready. You need rest, and that's more important than work," she says, and all of Twilight's inbuilt desire to be efficient at any cost screams in protest.

"Just let me call work then," he says anyway, because despite that internal drive he has to admit that he's not sure he'll be particularly useful in this state. He must be getting soft. He’s persevered through injury and illness alike - it’s almost humiliating to be so incapacitated by a fever.

Yor nods, letting go of his arm to let him shuffle towards the telephone. He makes a quick call to Handler, who sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. He can almost see her raised eyebrows when he tells her he’s sick, but something in his voice must be convincing because she agrees to take care of his workload for the day and tells him to rest up. He scoffs at that, going to hang up.

"Take better care of yourself, Twilight," she says, just before he can lower the phone. "I know we give you a lot of work, but don’t neglect your health just to keep up with it.”

He mumbles something in return and makes his way back to his room. He catches a glimpse of Yor in the kitchen as he passes, filling a glass with water and gathering some medicine from the cabinet.

Lying down is a far bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, to the point that he barely registers the sound of knocking on the door, followed by Yor pushing it open. She hands him a glass of water and some pills, and he downs them, trying not to wince at how sore his throat feels.

“I’m going to go to work now,” Yor says gently. “I’ll make sure Anya gets to school on time too, so don’t worry about her.”

She hovers above him, worried but seemingly unsure, and he does his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yor,” he says, voice still annoyingly weak. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me either.”

Yor smiles back, looking somewhat placated, though the worry lingers in the tightness of her smile. She closes the door gently behind her, and Twilight contents himself with half-listening to the sounds of Anya and Yor getting ready for the day, drifting in and out of sleep.

A while later Anya pops her head in to greet him and say goodbye, and he musters up enough strength to give her a weak wave and a goodbye in return.

Then he lies there, alone and in the dark, uselessly sick. Rest, Yor and Handler had both said, but his brain refuses to cooperate, racing with thoughts about the mission reports he really should have finished yesterday. Except it isn’t really racing, it’s trudging slowly through the mass of information he’d normally have no problem speedily sorting through. It’s frustrating, and it makes his head hurt more.

The longer he lies there the more restless he feels, like he could be making far better use of his time. To make things worse, his room is still far too warm. He squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, trying to force himself to sleep. If he sleeps, perhaps he’ll feel better more quickly, and then he can get back to work. But any sleep that comes is shallow and restless, and the stupid reports just won’t stop trying and failing to sort themselves out in his mind.

The clock reads 10am when Twilight gives up. Pushing himself up despite the way his body protests, he shuffles out to the living room, a folder of reports in one hand and a pillow in the other. The cooler air is pleasant against his skin, though the light stings at his eyes at first.

Settling on the couch, he opens the folder and starts to read. He barely gets a few paragraphs in before what had been a mild headache morphs into a sharp pain behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a bit, finding relief in the dark. He repeats the cycle a few more times, until the headache gets to the point where the words on the page start to blur.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s started to tremble, and suddenly he’s glad he brought the pillow with him. It’s cooler out here, so maybe it’ll be easier to sleep for a while. The cacophony of aches and pains in his body lessens slightly as he lies down, and he feels himself drifting away surprisingly quickly.

Just a little sleep, he thinks. Just to get rid of the headache, and then he can get back to the reports.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his bed, and there’s sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He lies still for a moment, disoriented and very confused. His room isn’t as stiflingly warm as before, and the clock tells him that it’s past 3pm. Alarmed, he tries to sit up, and finds that the feverish aches in his muscle have lessened, albeit marginally.

He looks around, trying to sort out the mess in his head. How on earth did he get back to his room without realizing?

Yor interrupts his thoughts by poking her head into the room, and her eyes light up when she sees him awake.

“Loid! Are you feeling any better?” she asks, coming to stand by his bedside.

“A bit,” he says, still mildly confused. “How did I- when did you…?”

“Ah,” Yor says, flushing lightly. “I came back early because I was worried, and I found you sleeping on the couch.”

Her expression turns disapproving. “You really shouldn’t work when you’re sick, Loid,” she says, frowning. “I understand wanting to be productive, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health.”

He feels oddly chastised, and nods silently. Yor’s expression melts into a small smile.

“I’ve made you some soup,” she says. “It’s the best thing for when you’re ill. I asked Camilla for the recipe, so I hope it tastes alright.”

Twilight nods again, filled with the trepidation that usually surrounds Yor’s attempts at cooking. Yor disappears out of the door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. Despite her track record, the soup smells rather good, and Twilight can’t say he isn’t grateful for the kindness.

Yor hands him the tray, and he studies the soup. It looks good. It smells alright. Perhaps it’ll be fine to eat a bit. His stomach doesn’t tie into knots at the thought, so he plucks up his courage and takes a spoonful. And then another, and another, because it’s actually some really good soup. A surprised smile makes its way onto his face.

“This is really good, Yor,” he says, and despite everything there’s a note of genuine happiness in his voice. It’s nothing groundbreaking, a simple broth based vegetable soup, but it’s soothing and warming and Twilight finds that he appreciates it even more for the effort and care that went into making it.

Yor beams, and Twilight finds himself captivated by the sight.

“I’m glad to hear it!” she says, her smile wide and proud. Radiant. It causes a warm feeling in Twilight’s chest that he doesn’t think he can blame on the fever or the soup. He chooses to ignore it, tearing his eyes away from Yor and focusing back on emptying the bowl. Being sick is no excuse to indulge in things that aren’t relevant to the mission.

Oblivious to his brief internal battle, Yor sits on the bed next to him, chatting about her day and the process of making the soup. He listens, occupied by eating, interjecting here and there. It’s nice, and despite the lingering aches of the fever and his mind warning him not to get too comfortable Twilight almost feels peaceful.

“By the way Yor,” he says, when there’s a lull in conversation. “How did I get back here?”

Yor immediately goes red, eyes shifting everywhere.

“I- I carried you over,” she mumbles. “It wasn’t too hard, and it was mainly because I was afraid that you’d hurt your back or your neck from sleeping on the couch, and when I brought you back it was way too warm in here, so I opened the window a little to let some fresh air in, and…” Yor seems to have realized that she’s rambling, trailing off.

Twilight doesn’t know what to say. The extent of Yor’s concern fills him with more of that warmth he doesn’t know what to make of. For almost all of his life, getting sick has been an arduous and solitary affair. He hasn’t really had anyone he trusted enough to help him through something as vulnerable as sickness. Miserably dousing himself in WISE provided medicines and trying to keep working through whatever coughs and colds came his way had become standard procedure for him.

But Yor’s smile is more soothing than all those medicines, and the soup is flavourful and gentle on his sore throat, and some emotion he can’t (won’t) label sweeps through him. He’s vulnerable in this state, he can’t work, and he still feels the aches and pains of the fever. And above all, indulging in domesticity is supposed to be out of the question. And yet there’s a deep seated contentment that settles in his core as he sits there and eats the soup, knowing that he’s cared for.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of addressing any of the feelings building in his chest. “I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“It’s ok, I’m your wife,” Yor says seriously, before flushing and fumbling to amend her statement. “I mean, as your wife in this arrangement, it’s the least I could do.”

Twilight laughs, a quiet but genuine thing, and Yor smiles through the blush on her cheeks.

When the soup is finished, Yor leaves him to rest again with a promise to come back later. Settling back under the covers, Twilight finds that sleep comes a lot easier when his mind is filled with thoughts of Yor instead of trying and failing to analyze mission reports.

Over the next few days he recovers under Yor’s watchful eye, slowly but surely. She brings him soup and tea, and Anya comes to sit on his bed in the evenings, reading chapters from Spy x Wars to him.

There’s something soothing about the fact that they care about him enough to look after him like this. It can’t last, and he knows it, but Twilight selfishly relishes it all - the tenderness in Yor’s touch when she puts her hand on his forehead to check for returning fevers, the way Anya does her best to help out, the way Yor checks in on him throughout the day.

He still feels a bit useless being bedridden and unable to take on his usual workload, but he does his best not to think of it as going soft, or overindulging in domesticity. The severity of his sickness this time is probably the result of years of never allowing himself to recover from illnesses properly. So he lets himself rest, and if those days spent recovering are some of the most peaceful days of his life, no one has to know.

A week or two after he’s healthy again, Anya comes home sneezing. When he starts sneezing as well a few days later, Twilight begins to wonder if perhaps he should take more vitamins and start working on fixing his sleep schedule.

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Hope it was a good read!!! I enjoyed writing it :D

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darkdevasofdestruction · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3 - Mad Max Combo x 3

Morning came by fast, the Sun was up, and the weather was fine; For once, Billy was awake before noon - And Katrina wasn't. He felt something warm clinging onto him; He looked down, and smirked - He even let out a chuckle. Kat was really behaving like a cat, clinging onto him like that, nestling into his side like that, as if to seek warmth and affection; Her head was resting on his shoulder, her warm breath rhythmically caressing his neck, one arm draped around his torso, and one leg hooked around his thigh - She was practically on top of him, and looking damn comfortable.

Still, one thing piqued his interest - Her long hair cascaded in a wave of fire over the bed, revealing the back of her neck - And a surprising tattoo. It was the number '3'. Did it symbolise anything for her? Miss goody-two-shoes having a tattoo was hilarious to him, especially considering how easily hidden it was. Billy thought people got tattoos to show them off - Her tattoo wouldn't be evident even if she tied her hair up... Maybe.

Sleeping Beauty lay there over him for at least one more hour before her long lashes fluttered open. As soon as she noticed him, she smiled, and cuddled even closer to him. She didn't say anything, except let out a soft meowing sound. Damn, she was cute, the boy thought - But he was getting restless and bored; There was only so long he could stay laying down, doing nothing - And not smoking. All of a sudden, his hand was in her hair and rapidly messing it up.

"Hey - Hey, stop it!" in a split-second she was already sitting, away from him. He kinda missed the feeling of her wrapped around him like that - Though seeing her all messy, the collar of the Tshirt slipping down her shoulder like that, and her pretty, slender legs visible... Lucky he slept in his jeans, otherwise she'd have seen how turn very hard she was making him.

"Couldn't pass the opportunity to torment you a little." he teased her, dragging himself up. "Can I smoke here?"

"No." she deadpanned. "No smoking in my house." she followed with a sorry afterwards.

"No fun." he groaned, hitting the back of his head to the bed rest.

"Sorry, but I can't stand the stench of cigarettes." she said. "Or the taste."

"You didn't seem to complain much last night." he pointed up, all smug and teasing.

"Well, in my defense, the tar was overshadowed by the bitter taste of cheap beer." she shot right back.

"What, Princess Tutti Frutti, you only drink teas and water?" the girl couldn't help but laugh; She hopped off the bed, went to the kitchen and returned with 5 bottles of vodka, making the boy's mouth hang agape - He was even more turned on now.

"I'm half-Russian, Billy. That stereotype is not wrong. Ice cold vodka, like the coldest nights of Siberian tundras." that vixen-like smirk of hers did many, many things to him - None of them innocent. "I mix my vodka with liqueur or fruit juice - Ask Tina's girl groupie, and you'll hear Freaky Kommie Kat became Vodka Queen last night."

"You really shouldn't trust me to spend the night with you again, tootsie." he got off the bed, stepping right behind her, his broad chest pressed against her back; His hand caressed her face, before tilting her head up to look at him. "I don't think I'll be able to hold back next time with how precious you are."

"I'm not worrying." she snarked him back, leaning so she could plant a kiss on the inside of his wrist - Just enough to stun-lock him again.

A month passed since Tina's Halloween party - Every morning since then, Billy went to pick Kat up from her home to drive her to school; Every second spent around her was a blessing to his damned existence... And every second spent outside of that hell hole, was closer to heaven than he'd ever been. Unfortunately for his mental health and sanity... That ginger parasite was constantly on his back... And even she realised there was something going on between him and Kat, considering she's the only girl she's seen hanging around him lately... Every day, without fail.

"Y'know Mad Max? The movie?" Maxine was in the backseat, her arms hanging over both the driver and the passenger seat, leaning forward to speak to the other red head. Unlike the other girls around Billy, she was actually nice to her.

"Yeah, I've seen it when it came out - The sequel too. It was pretty fun." she hummed amiably; She wasn't that bad - A typically curious middle-school girl.

"You know - My name's Maxine - But I prefer Max. Everyone calls me Max." she said, a smile on her face. "I go to the arcade very often - I broke all records before I even started school this year." she continued, grinning in triumph. "MADMAX is now the top of every arcade game."

"Woaw, that's very cool, Max! Way to go!" Kat clapped at her.

"Hey now, don't indulge her. It will go to her head." Billy shot Max a warning glare to get back and stop bothering them.

"Oh, don't worry, Billy, it's quite alright - Just a little chit-chat." Kat waved her hand. "I'm still going to cheer on you today at basketball practice."

"Good girl." he grunted under his breath.

"Hey, Kat, you play DnD?" Kat shook her head.

"I don't have friends to play with - But I know the game. Tried to play by myself, but... Kinda lame." she chuckled casually. "I'm an Elf Druid. Healing spec." she grinned, looking back at Max. "I wanna be a doctor."

"Whoa, cool! Druids are, like - The backbone of a party." she was so enthusiastic. "I'm a Tiefling Rogue."

"Uuu, that's awesome, Max!" Billy looked weirdly at the two girls.

"The hell are you talking about?" he muttered, not liking the idea of being left out of a conversation.

"Races and classes of our Dungeons and Dragons characters." Kat explained. "It's a tabletop game played with friends. Usually we create characters that represent us."

"Oh yeah?" he spoke with mock interest. "What about me, then?"

Kat and Max shared a look, and started thinking; For once, Max wasn't afraid of Billy. She liked how mellow he was around Kat - Whatever influence she had on him made her very happy. "I think you'd be a great Bard."

"That's a lame ass name. Don't like it." his bratty attitude made the older girl grin.

"You have charisma, dexterity and strength -- And you can play the guitar, right?" he gave her a questioning look - Not enough. "You, ergh... Can go around and smack people in the head with a lute?"

"That's more like it." his expression turned into a smirk of approval.

"They can also manipulate people - By charming the pants off of them - With very good looks and a pinch of flirting." Max looked at the way Kat was leaning in towards her step-brother; She was teasing him fiercely. "And you can also seduce a door into unlocking itself."

"Ha!" he grabbed her jaw. "Is that how sexy you find me, dollface?" he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes; Too bad he still needed to look at the road ahead.

"It's how the whole population of Hawkins sees you." she chuckled, leaning back on her seat.

"What about the race?" Max asked, gagging at the occasional flirting they were doing. Gross.

"Hmm... Proud, strong, and imposing, with a natural charisma that makes everyone look at him when he enters the room." Kat pondered playfully. "And with quite the intense aura and fiery temper."

"Sounds like a Dragonborn to me." Max grumbled, not happy that her step-brother was was appointed such a badass character.

"So I'm a big ass dragon who fucks doors?" Max and Kat had to fight back their giggles at how funny his conclusion sounded.

"About right." his step-sister teased him - He wouldn't do anything to her with Kat around.

"If I can seduce a door - Can I do the same to tree-huggers also?" he winked at his pretty girl.

"Maybe after a few songs and further progress into the campaign story." even he understood what she meant;

Finally, the atrociously long car-drive ended. "Run along, cockroach girl." he waved Max away, watching with annoyance as she skated away. "I'll be seeing you after lunch."

"I'm sure you will - Gotta look at me when you show off." Kat winked and went towards her class.

Three hours went by excruciatingly slow for both Kat and Billy - Was it because they couldn't get enough of each other's presence? Or because the classes were boring as hell? Or, even better - The people around them were all idiots and they got quickly tiresome. They both wanted to get the hell away from Hawkins - That meant, finishing University already. It was not even Winter yet, the was passing by much too slow for their liking. At least occasional dates, working on the project and sport practice kept their mind away from the tragic routine they were stuck into. And dearly wishing for winter break and the ball to come by already - Not only did that mean a shit ton of free time to do whatever they wanted, without the responsibilities of doing homework and what not - It also meant they were almost halfway through this inferno.

As per usual, Kat was outside easing her own lunch, yet Billy hadn't shown up - He said he'd be at the cafeteria with the others, so she wouldn't bother cooking more than needed; She was listening to music on her cassette iPod. Thankfully, an hour went by fast, and she found herself sitting on the bleachers. Billy wasn't there yet, so she did what she knew best - Placed her ankle over her knee and took a book from her bag; Dostoevsky's 'The Idiot', written in its native language. Her mother gave her the book when she was much younger, as a way to help her learn the language. Between learning Russian and Chinese... Having English as the 3rd language wasn't easy. Three different writing styles, three very different languages... But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Hey, Black, this ain't the best place for a nerd like you." Harrington's voice came out of nowhere, yelling in her ear - He purposely tried to jump-scare her. It wasn't often he found her all alone, without her stupid bodyguard goon Hargrove. They destroyed his reputation, and his relationship with Nancy Wheeler; He really couldn't stand how, from the most popular guy in Hawkins, he became the laughingstock everywhere he went. "Give that here." he snatched the book from her grasp. "Ah, of course - Freaky Kommie Kat pretends those squiggles are an actual language."

"Give me back my book, Steve." Kat got up to her feet, extending her hand towards the boy. "You're here to play basketball, not to pick on me. Leave me alone."

"Ohhh~!" Steve had a shit-eating grin on his face. "What - You've finally found the guts to speak up? Is it because Hargrove's popped your cherry, and you think you're his one and only?" he laughed in her face. "Dream on, dumbass."

Kat arched a quizzical eyebrow. "I genuinely have no idea what you tried to tell me - But I'm pretty sure you insulted me."

"You need me to translate for you, huh?" he bent to her eye range. "The only reason you have the courage to speak back to me - Is because Hargrove's been fucking - And you think you're special." he leaned back, smirking widely as he saw the darkness in her eyes, and the way her jaw was set; He loved getting a reaction out of her - A unique, special treat.

"Don't project the shitty way you treated Nancy, to the way Billy treats me." Steve never heard her speak so defensively - Cold, steely and harsh, like a deathly blizzard. "Just because you're a jerk who can't accept 'no' for an answer, doesn't mean every boy in the world is like you."

"Whoa, you're defending him - Ha!" he placed his hands on his hips, his smile mocking and patronising. "You're really stupid, aren't you? Falling head over heels for the first guy who gets in your pants. That's low, even for you." he chuckled. "And to think you were Miss Righteous."

"Steve Harrington, give me my book back, or I will --" she had to stop herself from speaking an outright threat - Because she knew she would follow up with an appropriate action. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Give my book back, Steve."

Harrington grinned, extending his arm up, along with the book. "Reach up and get it." he said, waving the book around. "Reckon I should change your nickname? Freaky Kommie Kat sounds outdated -- Maybe... Kat the Slut? How's that sound? You like to get on your knees for every guy who gives you some attention?"

Were it not for Billy showing up behind Harrington, Kat was sure she'd have jumped on him and ripped him apart; Her left hand was grasping tightly her right wrist, her dominant arm was quivering violently, ready to claw his face out and maul him to death. She wanted to see his blood, to see the life seep from his eyes and destroy that ugly smirk off his face. How dare he insult her like that? How dare he accuse her of dishonouring her family? The bastard had a death wish, and Kat was ready to be the executioner.

"Hey, lookie here, King Steve!" Billy reached out to retrieve the book. "Too afraid to face me and you prefer harassing a girl? You're such a pussy." Billy's voice echoed from behind Steve. "Why don't cha come on the field and fight someone your size?" he smirked, getting in his face.

"Oh, what a surprise - He's come to defend his little whore - Since when do you care so much about your bitches?" Steve definitely had a death wish. "What's it, Pussy King? Can't get your body count to get past two digits?"

Billy, like Katrina, had to hold themselves back with every bit of self restraint they had; To think his taunts would work on King Billy too - How amusing. "Are you jealous that you can't even score one girl, Harrington?" the Californian looked down at the idiot who dared mess with him like that. He was towering over Steve, his massive stature intimidating him. "Or you're pissed that your ex let everyone know how big of a bullshit excuse of a cunt you are? What, didn't know where to stick it? Or you couldn't even get it up?" Hargrove went in his face. "You a faggot, Harrington? Need a little lesson on how to speak to a girl?"

Steve didn't dare say another word - There was hardly anything he could say. With another shady look addressed to Kat, he side-stepped Hargrove. "See you on the court, loser."

Billy licked his lips - He needed to chain-smoke two packs of cigarettes to calm down a little. He wanted to break Steve's face... But someone else seemed to have lost her touch with reality. Her nails were digging hard into her flesh, fresh scratches forming pink lines up and down her forearm. "Hey, doll, you okay?" he slowly reached out his hand to hers, grasping it away so she'd stop hurting herself. "Pretty cats like you should rip the drapes to shreds, not your own arm."

"Someone's spreading rumours about me and I'm not happy with having my family name tainted with lies and dishonour." she sneered under her breath. "I fear if I hear that dumb fuck speak to me again, I'll bash his skull in."

The ferocity of her threat made the boy let out a shocked laugh of amusement. She was so small and cute that violent threats made her look hilariously adorable. "Don't worry your pretty head over that fuckass." he took out his shirt in front of her, flexing his biceps. "Are you gonna cheer on me, pretty girl?"

Kat looked up at Billy, looking deeply into her eyes; She said nothing at first - The empty coldness of her eyes almost freaked him out - Until she grabbed his face and forced him to her level. "Fuck them up, babe." she whispered into his ear, kissing his cheek, and recovering her book, she plopped down on the bleachers and started reading. "Now go show off so I can have a reason to stop reading."

He scoffed at her - Unbelievable, he couldn't believe what she'd done to him. "How the hell can I focus on the game when you've got me all turned on, huh?" he strutted out of there, and onto the court, seeing her shrug her shoulders innocently, not offering him any more attention. What a psycho. Getting him all hot and bothered, then letting him cool down all alone.

Well - Time to trample all over Harrington and that baseless audacity of his. The game soon started, after a much warranted warm-up; The whistle blew and Harrington had the ball, dribbling left and right, until Billy came in front of him, looking intimidating as ever - The game wasn't yet heated up enough to get Kat's attention - But it was good enough for the surfer to start taunting that vermin. He would bump into him hard enough to throw him off his feet - It was a pleasure seeing Harrington take a few tumbles to the ground, easily retrieving the ball from him.

Every time Billy would score, he would turn to wink at Kat - Magically, she seemed to always be looking at him from above her book, he noted. She wasn't really reading - She was admiring in secret. All the more reason to show off.

The whistle blew again, one of the shirtless guys was dribbling the ball and Steve was blocking him, but, of course, since he's the best player in that team, Billy managed to easily secure the ball and dribbled it away from Steve, but then stopped and started taunting Harrington.

"King Steve! King Steve, everyone! I like it, play it tough today." he got closer to his face, annoying Steve. "Jesus! Do you ever stop talking?! Come on!" Steve tried to make Billy shut up, but to no avail. "What? Afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I am here? Huh?" Billy laughed as easy going as usual, then dribbled and pushed past Steve and stopanotherpoint. "You didn't seem to stop talking to my girl either." Billy looked at Steve, offered to help him get up; He grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. "If I see you upsetting my girl again, I'll break your legs and make sure you can never walk again." he let him fall harshly to the ground and walked away; His team did the triumphant high-fives and fist-bumps - Then went up to the bleachers. Kat was pretending to ignore him.

"Liked the show, babe?" he asked, his chin up proudly, his hands on his hips, smirking cockily whilst panting to regain his breath.

"Hmm? Sorry? Is that the wind?" she spoke casually, not looking at him - As if the book was more interesting.

"Ahhhh, don't do that to me, doll. You're hurting my feely-willys." his voice was playful and teasing. "C'mon, doll, wasn't I cool? Go on, praise me."

"Dunno, I didn't watch." she hummed non-chalantly. "Guess you didn't show off enough, hot shot."

"M'kay, sugar, what's about to happen is all on you." swiftly, he plopped next to her and engulfed her in a strong bear hug; She struggled and let out a loud 'EWW GROSS' whine, making him chuckle victoriously. "That's what you get for ignoring me."

"But you're all sweaty and gross!" she continued to whine, flailing around childishly. "Whaaa, my clothes are all wet and stinky. Urghhh. Jerk!" she let out a loud groan. "Fine, fine, you win -- Gimme a break, man!" finally, he let go of her. "Go take a shower."

"Where's your shirt?" the girl asked. "Not that I mind seeing you like this."

With a smirk, Billy got up, helping her rise also. "On the court, apparently." he spotted it. "Ever stepped on the court?"

"Nope." she shook her head, following him. "I'm not a sports girl. I prefer practicing my sword-fighting." he looked at her with an interested look.

"Show off some day, will ya?" he smirked, bending to pick up his shirt and throwing it over his shoulder. "Wanna?"

"Wanna - What? Play basketball?" she looks up at the very high-up scoring ring. "Ergh... I don't think I'm cut up for this."

"C'mon, give it a go. It's fun." Kat rolled her eyes, grabbing a ball.

"I don't find physical effort - Or sweating, for the matter - Fun." she said, trying to slap the ball to dribble it. "It's pretty damn heavy - And big. How the hell do you manage this thing?"

"Remember how I picked you up and walked you around?" he looked smugly at her. "That's ten times easier than a dribble and a ring toss."

"Alright, alright - You're strong and sexy - I know." she looked up, biting her lip realising how very high the ring was. With some difficulty, she threw the ball with both hands - And Billy laughed. It hadn't even reached half the distance.

"Just what I'd expect from Thumbelina." he said playfully, going to gather back the ball. "Throw it my way - Hit it into the ground."

She phlegmatically threw the ball into the ground, and it bounced back towards him - He did the same back to her - And they repeated the process a few time. "So you do this every practice day - And you don't get bored out of your mind?" Kat found herself speaking.

"Just that, tootsie - With consistency I managed to get these puppies." he flexed his muscles again.

"Yeah, true, I get it, I get it - But it's still boring to me." she let the ball bounce idly on the ground. "And my arms also kinda hurt. Too much sport for me."

"Yeah, didn't take you for the athletic type." he chuckled, using his shirt to dry his already messy hair. "I'll go shower - Wait for me by the car, will ya?" he strutted around a little, looking at her all charming. "Unless... You wanna join me in the shower. Doubt anyone's still hanging around the locker." he winked, giving her a charming look.

"I'll let you enjoy your operetta recital by yourself." came her teasing reply.

"Heard you liked playing with balls, Slutty Kat!"

When Billy's back was turned, Steve threw a ball from the ball cube right at Kat, hitting her on the back of her head; She fell to the ground like a ragdoll with a painful thud and a yelp. Once again, her hair was spread everywhere, revealing that blasted tattoo. "OI, HARRINGTON, WHA' DID I SAY ABOUT PICKING ON SOMEONE YOUR SIZE, YOU PUNK?!" Billy's voiced echoed painfully through the court - He wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin from Harrington's face; But Kat beat him to it.

"Duck-hunting season's over, you piece of shit." she hissed under her breath, throwing the ball right at him, hitting the back of his ankles so hard, he stumbled over. Billy could only watch with deep confusion - Not only did this sweet little thing throw that damn ball so hard it made Harrington take a fall like that - But she threw it that hard, when she couldn't even reach the ring; He didn't even notice when a flash of red went by his eyes, and Kat was on top of Steve, throwing punches at his face.

"Whoa, hey, hey, that's enough --" once he regained his senses, Billy rushed to their side, easily picking the girl up and keeping her suspended in the air.

"I'll send his ass to hell --" his grip around her small body tightened the more she squirmed in mid-air; It would have been almost comical, if Steve didn't look disfigured.

"If you dare speak of this to anyone, Harrington, I'll kill you." Hargrove threatened the idiot who groaned in pain and scurried away.

"Fucking freak." Steve glared at the red head, before leaving the place.

"That's enough." slowly, he placed her with her feet on the ground. "Easy, girl. Easy." he whispered into her ear, trying to sooth her anger. "He pussied out - Ain't gonna bother you again after this." she was still shaking with anger. His hands slowly trailed down her arms, reaching to her own hands, squeezing them softly. Her knuckles were busted and a bloody mess - Much like how his used to be many times. "Easy."

"I wanna go home." her voice was frail, weak, and she hugged herself tightly. "I wanna go home, Billy."

"I hear you. I hear you." his hands squeezed her shoulders. "Go wait in the car - I'll go shower and drive you home."

"Thank you." she whispered softly, and left the safe embrace of her protector.

Kat went to lean back on Billy's car, she looked down at her bag - The temptation was high - Too high. And she gave in. She dug her hand in her bag and rummaged around for her secret sin; She lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing smoke into the air. She lost control - Again. It was already the second or third time she'd lost control of herself, of her anger, and it wasn't a good sign - The last thing she wanted was to get a suspension... Or worse... Get people suspicious. She needed to stay in check - To finish that freaking school year and get the hell out of Hawkins. ASAP.

Her eyes were red and stinging her as tears were threatening to spill - But she had to stay strong; To control herself. Her father always told her to control her emotions - Always stay demure and noble, like a noble Princess. Her latest actions were the farthest thing from being a Princess. She was going to destroy everything she ever worked so hard for; Her scholarship, her reputation, her name, her relationship with Billy.

Failure. A failure, that's what she was. She knew she was going to fall down the rabbit hole of self-destruction, and she was terrified of the rapid descent into madness she was spiraling into.

After what felt like four or five quick stress-smoked cigarettes, the sound of a skateboard reminded Kat of reality; Max appeared in front of her - She seemed pissed also. She leaned back on the car also, and started ranting about her fight with this guy, Lucas, Her words were a jumbled mess mixed like a perfect smoothie in Kat's head; Truly, she had no idea what Max was saying - She was still fighting within herself to calm down and no jump another of person. She looked down at her knuckles - Billy must have wiped away most of the blood from her fists - But he couldn't wipe away the scrapes.

Her hands looked awful, god damn awful. She wasn't a cute, little, inoffensive princess anymore - She was a monster with anger issues - The exact thing she tried so hard to avoid. What the hell was she gonna do? Wrap her hands and wrists in bandages, like those brawlers on the streets? Guys who did that were hot as hell - Billy would look so sexy she'd probably jump on him - But not her. She wasn't supposed to look like this - Never, ever.

"Thought you said you hate the smell of cigarettes." Billy's voice woke her up from her trance.

"I do." she mumbled to herself; Much to his shock, Kat rose her sleeve and extinguished the cigarette on her skin - Revealing the exact number of cigarettes she'd smoked waiting for him - Seven. And she didn't even seem to realise, Billy noted, as she didn't even react. She was still so hung up on her overreacting with Steve, that she was numb to everything else. It wasn't much different to the way his anger numbs him to everything surrounding him, after his father goes crazy on his ass.

The car ride was silent, save for Max trying to communicate, and Kat saying a few absent-minded 'uh-huh's to her, a simple habit she developed over the years to appear polite, even if she wasn't paying attention to the conversation. "Sure you'll be alright by yourself, toots?"

Kat glanced at him lethargically from the corner of her eyes. "Safest for everyone, yes." she muttered, opening the door. "Thanks for today, Billy. See you." she left, dragging her bag inside the house.

"What's with her? She seemed... Off." Billy nodded, his tongue licking his bottom lip before he, too, retrieved a cigarette.

"Shut up, squirt. None of your business." he shut her off immediately.

"Not fair! She's my friend too!" she chimed in like a brat. "Was it your fault? Did you upset her?"

"Can you shut the hell up for once, Maxine? Huh?!" he grabbed the front of her shirt; She gulped, her eyes wide and terrified. He pushed her back on the backseat.

It was already the beginning of December; Things had significantly quieted down among the highschoolers. Kat was back to normal, serene and nice as always, Billy was a certified King and Max kept complaining about the stupid band of idiots who didn't want to befriend her. The basketball championship was approaching soon, along with the Winter Ball.

Under the guise of working on their Biology project, Billy invited Kat over - After Max pestered both him and her mother to invite her over. The last thing he ever wanted was to expose that angel to Dante's Inferno. Even the last circle of hell couldn't compare to the shit inside his house. Still, it seemed Max wanted to hang out with her only friend, and Susan agreed to take Neil on a date the whole day, leaving them the whole house for themselves.

Once Kat arrived at their small house, she knocked and Max opened the door for her in a split second - Was she glued to the door like a dog on the doormat? Kinda weird how enthusiastic this girl was to see her. Regardless - The first thing her green eyes saw was the Godly silhouette of Billy Hargrove working out. What a sight for sore eyes. He was doing it on purpose.

The loud rock music made it impossible for them to speak and understand each other - But looks said it all; Billy knew what he was doing to her, all sweaty and shirtless, his muscles flexing all sexy with every lift of the weights; And that damn smirk plastered on his face, those kissable lips... And that tongue flick. In their mind they were all over each other - Just not physically also. Little angel wasn't ready for him yet - Not that he could blame her; With idiots like Harrington messing around with her for years, he'd run away from guys too - Or beat the hell outta them.

Max dragged her red head friend to her room - Away from her loverboy - And pushed her on her bed. She showed off her skateboard collection, and her video games - She even had multiple drawings of her D&D character. It was all a little confusing for Kat - But then, she started to speak about something different - Something that made Kat's hair stand up with fear. She used words like 'Demogorgon' , 'Demodog' and even 'Hawkins laboratory something something'. It was the worst.

"Like, can you believe him? That stalker thought he could lie to me - In the arcade, of all things! He tried to prevent me from playing any game, just so he'd lie to me. That's, like, so messed up - Right?" Kat's face must have looked completely terrified and distraught. "Like - Who would believe his stupid stories - Right?!"

"He wasn't lying to you." her voice came in a whisper, making Max yell a loud, incredulous 'WHAT?!' her way. "What else did they tell you?"

"About this girl - Eleven the Mage - Or something. Said she had some super powers. Mike and Will don't want me in the party because El disappeared - Or something." Kat's breath hitched in her throat at the mention of El.

"Eleven is alive?!" Kat shot up to her feet, her hands in her hair. "I can't believe it - That kid broke out of the lab all by herself?!" she started pacing around the room, her nails scratching at the opposite hand; Her stress levels were through the roof. "Eleven got here? She was here - And I didn't know. I can't believe it."

"Kat...? How do you know this, erg... Eleven?" Max spoke in a somewhat sympathetic voice, seeing her eyes get watery.

Kat sat back on the edge of the bed, then rose her hair off the back of her neck, showing off her '3' tattoo. "Eleven and I, like many other children stuck in that lab, weren't born with a name - We were assigned a number. I was one of the first ones around there - The 3rd experiment. Eleven was one of the youngest. She was still very young when I managed to get out of there." Kat turned around to look at the little girl - Her large blue eyes were wide like cherry pies, and she was assimilating the story like a sponge. "My parents were both scientists there. Mum was Russian, dad Chinese. It was a very communist lab, I know." she waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway - Yekaterina and Shilin, my parents, were married; Because 'One' was dead, and 'Two' was in a coma, they were tasked with taking care of me - And experimenting on me also." Kat explained. "Felt guilty after they forced my powers so hard I hemorrhaged myself into a coma, so they decided to protect me." she muttered, looking down. "They saw all these kids dying around them - Because of them - And decided to change something... And they did..." she let out a pained exhale. "After my mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Stage 4 lung cancer, metastasis everywhere." she scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "They ran away from there - Took me with them - And we bought ourselves a nice house here, in Hawkins. Been living there for the past 6 years." she offered an empty smile. "Now that I think of it - Eleven would be now around the same age I was when I escaped that hell."

"Are you KIDDING me?!" Kat shook her head. "No way - Like - NO way!" Max was stomping around the room, so excited and erratic. "That's insane - Really, it's so damn insane!" she continued. "So, like, that stalker idiot was telling the truth... The band of dumbasses are in a literal, real-life, D&D campaign... And they won't let me in?! But I'm a badass Zoomer, what the hell!" she let out an annoyed growl, throwing herself on the bed -- Before scurrying again to look at Kat. "Did you say something about powers?"

Kat leaned back on the bed rest and looked around the bedroom; Once she saw a notebook on top of the desk, she rose her hand up - And Max watched with awe as the notebook flew right into her hand. The ginger cheered loudly, making her do that again - Instead, Max found herself in the air, floating around smoothly like a cloud. "SO COOL!" she turned around like there was no gravitation - It was so much fun! But then, she was placed back on the bed.

"Sorry, Max, I don't like using my powers too much." she gave a small smile. "Headaches and bleeding."

"So - You chose your own name?" Max asked, and Kat tilted her head a little.

"Sort of." she played with her fingers. "Ruyi Katerina Yelena" she smiled sweetly, saying her name. "That's my actual, real name. My dad loved the name 'Ruyi'... He said it was fit for a Princess. 'Katerina' comes from my mother, and 'Yelena' means 'Moon' because I was always a dream, and I loved to look at the sky at night." her smile widened a little. "But... Y'know... English people can't pronounce my name... Ruyi Katerina Yelena is too difficult for people to pronounce it, so... 'Katrina Black' is written on my ID - Which, by the way, it's a very fake ID that looks 100% legit and I can renew with no issue at any given time."

"Roo-EE... Kah-The-Ree-Nah... Ee-Lee-Nah?" Max struggled very hard to pronounce her name, but failed miserably. "Okay, okay, I get it. 'Kat' is much easier." she chuckled awkwardly. "But it's a pretty name!"

"Thank you, Max. I appreciate it." she nodded at her.

"Hey, Kat --?" she let out a hum, to have her continue speaking. "You and Billy...?" she made a 'sort of' gesture. "He really likes you, y'know? Since he went to that Halloween Party, I haven't seen him with any other girl except you." that comment made her smile back at the ginger. "Are you ever gonna tell him anything about this?" she shook her head. "Why?"

"Why would I? He knows my parents are dead, and that I'm 'Freaky Kommie Kat' because my parents are foreigners from communist countries. I don't think I need to tell him more than that, unless necessary." she shrugged her shoulders casually. "I just want to be a normal teenager, Max. I don't want to be implicated in this... Supernatural mess that's come up recently. I just want to graduate and leave this town as far as possible."

"You know Billy wants to move back to Cali?" Kat nodded. "And... You wanna go with him?"

"If he wants me, yeah, I'd love to." she said softly.

"Kat..." Max scooted over to her. "Billy is... Weird." she gulped. "He's violent, and mean, and rude, and harsh... And a jerk with capital 'J', okay?" she sighed. "But he's really not that bad - Especially with you. It's his dad's fault. He scares me too... But with Billy? He's awful with Billy. He yells at him, scolds him so much... And he even hits him." she shuddered a little. "I always hide when he starts going ape shit on him... I can't see Billy get all that shit. It's terrifying." she admitted. "Don't blame him too much... It's not his fault he ended up like this. Neil was abusive to his mum also... Would get very physical, I heard. I'm surprised he hasn't taken it out on my mum yet... Uhm... Billy's mum left him alone with Neil. Wasn't answering his calls and all that..." she hugged Kat's leg tightly. "No mum should ever abandon their kid in the hands of their abusive dad."

Kat looked down at Maxine, reaching out her hand to stroke her hair - She had guessed his parents weren't the best - But by hell she hadn't expected that. All the more reason to try and make his life as nice as possible outside of this house... And get the hell away from this town. "Don't worry, Maxi. I'll protect him even if it's the last thing I do in this life."

She might not have been his blood sister, but in spite of how much of an asshole he is, Maxine didn't want Billy to suffer so much; Kat was a good influence on him, at least on the surface; Hopefully, he won't kick her aside because of his self issues.

The door was swung open, and Billy grabbed the frame of the door, leaning over. "Party's over, munchkin. It's my turn to steal Jessica Rabbit." and steal her he did, picking her up and swinging her over his shoulder, bringing her to his room and letting her plop on his bed.

"I'd never seen a more 'boy bedroom' than this." she chuckled softly, looking around the room - Various posters of rock bands like Metallica and Motley Crue were messily plastered on the walls - Along with some sexy pin ups. Some left over beer cans on the nightstand, many clothes thrown around the best, and the bed was a mess. "I wouldn't expect any less." she made herself comfortable. "But I guess I shouldn't expect to look around and find a book, huh?"

"Why'd you think I'm studying science, not art, babe?" he threw himself on the bed next to her, making her jump a little on the bed. "Now then - How this sounds - Susan called. Said they're not coming over for the night - Expected around afternoon. Y'know what that means, yeah?" he smirked, leaning over to her. "No need to spend the night alone in that big, scary house of yours."

"You want me to stay over?" he nodded. "Really?"

"Yeah, sweetcheeks. Gotta return the favour, ain't that right?" he trailed her soft face with the back of his fingers. "Can't have you all scared and screaming for me, in the dead of night - When I could be right here."

"That's very nice of you, Billy. Thank you." her eyes averted down bashfully. He could see a delicate hue of pink painting her cheeks. "We ordering tonight? Or you wanna cook with me?"

He wanted to kiss those damn sweet lips of hers, that's what he wanted. He wanted to feel that flawless skin of hers against his own, to grab at her flesh and see her all dazed and dreamy underneath him. He wanted to do so many things to the pretty girl in front of him; To grab her face and pull her into kisses so long that she won't remember how to breathe... And by God, how he wanted to make her sing for him like a sweet nightingale - He was sure she made all the cutest noises. What an addictive girl... To think they hardly went any further than a few kisses every once in a while, and he wants to get all messy under the covers with her.

"Got all the things to make one big, mean pizza." his hand gingerly placed on the side of her face made its way up into her hair, to the back of the head, pulling her into a kiss. "But I need so life breathed into me to even have the energy to think about leaving the bed when you're in it."

His flirting seemed to earn quite the amused giggles from the girl. "Alright, alright, I got this. Let me save you, oh, my knight in shining armor." it was her who initiated the kiss; Damn how he missed the taste of her cherry lip gloss and how well their lips molded together - She even had such adorable reactions when he'd bite her bottom lip a little; A cute eeping noise, a slight squeeze of his shoulders...

Billy shifted a little to lean on his elbow, the free hand trailed down her back, her hips, and rested on her supple thigh - Thank God she was wearing jeans, or he'd go crazy - He brought her closer to him, dragging her leg in between in own; She was comfortably trapped in his strong arms, against the pillows, allowing herself to get lost in the bliss of his kisses.

He was going crazy - She was making him crazy; He could feel himself melting, blending together with her; He shifted his position again, this time he was comfortably laying between her legs, on top of her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, and the rough texture of his jeans against her thighs, grinding against her slowly, instinctively, against his better judgement.

Billy broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down into her glazed over green eyes. "You're driving me crazy, woman. All pretty and trusting, in the wolf's den." he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Kat's smile was angelic, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then I'm doing my job right." she whispered back, pulling him down to her again.

Billy didn’t hold back. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, as if he couldn’t get enough - As if kissing her meant living for one more day. His hands roamed up her sides, slipping under her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her waist. Kat shivered at his touch, feeling the heat pooling in her stomach as his fingers traced small circles on her skin. Without as much as realising, he had unbuttoned her shirt - She was below him, revealing that gorgeous body of hers, and that pretty pink lace bra of hers. Her skin perfectly pressed against his, her heat and his combining so flawlessly - It was natural, so natural, as if that's how the world was supposed to be.

The kiss was intense, full of unspoken desire and the need for closeness, desperate for an intimacy that was more love than lust. Billy’s lips left hers to trail kisses down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he found the sensitive spot just below her ear. Kat gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he explored her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She could feel his heart pounding just as hard as hers, their bodies pressed together as if they were trying to become one.

But those sweet whines of hers drove him back to reality, and he forced himself awake from the reverie he willingly drowned himself into. He looked down at the beauty laying on his bed like a gorgeous pillow princess, all sweet and innocent, ready for him to corrupt her - God damn it. He took a few more seconds to regain his breath, to admire her more - That's his girl, only his - Then he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead and got up.

"So what's your favourite band, angel?" he asked non-chalantly, forcing himself not to look at her - He drove himself into his wardrobe to rummage through his band Tees. He was almost sure, if he were to look back at her, he wouldn't be able to rip himself away from her, and he'd claim her on the spot. He didn't want that - Rationally, he didn't - But her spell was too strong, and he was weak to her enchanting beauty. He was a huge fuck up - But he wanted her to stay by his side for as long as possible.

"Uhm... I don't know. Metallica, I think." she got in a sitting position - Only to be hit in the face with a large black Tshirt with the very band imagery.

"Good. You change while I go dream about you in the bathroom, then we can start on that pizza. How's that sound?" the look they shared made the girl blush all shy and awkward, realising his implication, but nodded anyway.

"Sure, sounds good to me." she hugged the Tshirt to her chest, waiting for the boy to leave the room so she could change.

She was shocked they got so far - But she at least knew she was right to trust him. She wasn't fooled, she wasn't wrong. And she loved every second of it very much; Oh, if only she wasn't so afraid, she'd drag him to bed herself. Still she folded her clothes neatly on a chair and changed in that Metallica Tshirt - It went just above the knee. She didn't have to wait too long for him to return - He was wearing shorts and a tank top, and he gestured her to follow him to the kitchen.

Billy flung open the fridge and retrieved the ingredients needed for a most delicious meal, all of them scattered across the countertop. The smell of fresh dough and spices filled the air as they prepared to make their pizza from scratch. Kat dug her hand into the flour bag, using the bowl to make dough. Unfortunately, although the dough was easy to make, they had to wait a whole hour for it to cool down and rest back in the fridge. How lame.

"Okay, babe, time to wait for the Sleeping Beauty Dough." he gently slapped his hands on her hips, lifting her on the counter. "What we doin' in the hour?"

"No clue." she pressed her hand on his face, imprinting her palm with flour. "The White Hand of Saruman!" she giggled cutely - But fuck if he knew. He didn't read nerdy fantasy books - He hardly read at all anyway.

"Okay, Nerd Queen, I've got no clue what you're on - But let's not start a flour on we can't finish. They will get my skin on a spike if the kitchen isn't spotless." he grabbed the towel, wiping away the floor. "Oh, damn, you're right - I'm sorry." she cupped his face, planting a quick sweet kiss on his lips, her legs dangling idly on either side of him.

"Apology very much accepted." he picked her up. "Now - We either make out again for like an hour, and make me lose my mind --" he placed her on the couch, going to look through his VHS cassettes. "Or we watching a horror movie."

An hour and a half well spent watching some shitty B-listed slasher, but at least the dough rested enough. "Okay, Pizza King." Kat teased, handing him the rolling pin. "Show me what you’ve got."

"You just like seeing me show off." he grabbed the pin, pressing the hell outta that stubborn dough.

"Yeah, I do. It's a lovely sight." she grinned shamelessly. "You’re on topping duty also."

Billy looked her up and down, habitually licked his lips, and smirked. "With you? Any time. Gladly." she was adorable when she got all shy on him.

Kat only did as much as to spread a little too much tomato sauce over the dough - And even more mozzarella cheese. Everyone loved a cheesy pizza. Billy leaned against the counter, watching her with a soft smile. He found it hard to take his eyes off her when she was like this —carefree, happy, and entirely in her element.

As they added toppings, their hands occasionally brushed, sending little sparks between them. Billy took every opportunity to flirt, sneaking bits of cheese and pepperoni into his mouth - and into hers also. It was kinda cute, feeding her like that - Even though his fingers would occasionally brush with her lips, and his minds went into promiscuous territories. When the pizza was finally assembled, they slid it into the oven. Once again, they had to wait. Just the best, it was soon time for 'Hill Street Blues' and 'Murder, She Wrote' to air on TV. No more shitty slashers - Instead, some pretty funky detective shows.

When the timer finally dinged, they both jumped up to check on their creation. The pizza was golden and bubbling, the smell mouthwatering. "That smells damn good." Billy said, pulling the pizza out of the oven.

"And looks even better." Kat said. "Can you slice up the pizza while I go call Max to dinner?" ah right, the brat. He forgot all about her stupid carrot hair. He huffed affirmatively and did as instructed, throwing the slices on a big tray; He then took out some soda bottles from the fridge and brought them over in the living room.

The three sat comfortably on the couch and indulged in the fantastic food and the TV show - It was a successful evening, peaceful and nice - Something he hardly ever experiences. It's usually all gloomy and yells, maybe even tears and slaps. This night felt like something more — A taste of normalcy, of something real and sweet, in a life that was often anything but. Was this what some called 'Domestic Bliss'? If yes - He wanted that. Billy found himself wishing the night wouldn’t end. He looked at Kat, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she laughed with Maxine, and realized he didn’t want to let this go.

"A'ight, bed bug, 'nough fun for the night. It's curfew for toddlers." he didn't waste any second to drag Kat back into his bed. "Okay, lovebird, I know what you want. Get here." he laid down, patting his chest - A perfect invitation for her to lay on him again.

"I can't say no to you." she got in bed immediately, cuddling up into his side just like last time.

"You should." he mumbled under his breath. "Girl like you has no clue how difficult it is to hold back."

"It's not easy to resist you either." what a completely delirious thing to say - Shocking, insane, unbelievable - Ahhh, there she was, driving him up the wall again. Hopefully Billy Jr. won't wake up randomly and disturb him.

"Did I ever tell you I tried to sneak into an R-Rated movie when I was, like, twelve?" that affirmation was met with a shocked exclamation. "Yeah, girl. 1978's Halloween. I and the guys thought we'd see Jaime Lee Curtis' tits on the screen." he was already making her laugh, what a success. "Our brilliant plan? Vending machine mustaches and fedoras."

"Foolproof!" Kat exclaimed, giggling so cutely.

"So we go there - Stone cold assholes, saying we want tickets to Halloween, right? Well, that bastard on the other side of the counter, barely 17 years old, looked at us and said 'Sorry, kids, we don't screen cartoons today'. Fucking jerk." she continued laughing. "We were mad, of course - But! While Jack and Michael argued with that asshole - I sneaked in and hid in a corner. I was wearing black, hoodie up - No one even knew I was there."

"Met with quite the disappointment, huh?" she grinned up at him.

"Not once - Twice!" he was dramatic. "Not only did JLC not show her tits on screen in Halloween - But when she did, last year, in 'Trading Places', she was, like, super ugly - Like, why the hell did she cut all that pretty blonde hair, and got those ugly short spikes anyway? She looked like a deranged sea urchin -- Not to mention that horrible make up -- What was she, a clown?" he was so theatrical and charismatic that Kat needed time to breathe.

"You're so funny, Billy!" she exclaimed happily.

"What about you, sweet cheeks? Any funky story?" shit, Kat thought, her laughing stopping.

"Ergh -- I don't know, I'm not really funny, and my childhood was pretty boring. Y'know, no friends or anything." she chuckled nervously. "Ergh... I don't remember much anyway. Like - Dad built the swing in front of my face - And he taught me how to cook grandma's recipes. Mum taught me Russian literature - And how to mix drinks. I had my first drink at twelve - That's when I started appreciating the beauty of absinth mixed with water and sugar... What else..." she tapped her chin, deep in thought. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn't really have many memories from the past six years since she's been out of the lab. "I... Used to play dress up with my parents. Dad got me pretty clothes and mum taught me how to do my hair and make up."

"Lame." after exactly 5 seconds of silence, they both started laughing. "S'fine. Once we're outta here, it's memory-time for us, Maid Marian." he said, a small grin on his face. "Once you get a taste of the waves, sun and sand of Cali, you'll never wanna leave."

"...Cali?" Kat shifted a little to get a good look at Billy.

"Yeah, toots. California." his voice was a little lower, a little tender. "That's where Imma go for Uni, and everything else afterward." his hand caressed her pretty face. "You with me?"

"You really want me to come with you to California and make memories together?" she sounded completely breathless and flabbergast; In the dark of the night, Billy noticed her bottom lip quivering softly.

"Yeah." he breathed out. "I do." he couldn't believe himself, admitting such a thing - Such a commitment - Out loud, no less. To another person - The person in cause. He was going crazy, truly.

"I would love that very much, Billy." the boy was completely mesmerised - Every time he heard someone crying, especially him, their voice was all raw, whimpery, weak... Pained. He never experienced any person ever crying for any other reason than anger or sorrow... But time time, he was shocked to see... A single stray tear that was filled with a mix of pure joy, adoration and love. And they were addressed to him. "Thank you." to think she would think she needed to thank him... For wanting her by his side...

SIlly girl. If only she knew how much he needs her - How his life depends on her and that damn smile of hers. That smile that lights up his dark world; The only sunshine in this shit hole. Stupid, innocent, silly girl... Too good for this world... Too good for him. He didn't have the voice to reply to her, nor to himself. Instead, he decided on the perfect response - And he hugged her tightly to his chest.

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#heaven's on fire #stranger things x reader #stranger things x oc #stranger things imagine #stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x katrina #billy hargrove

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asykriel · 2 years

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Love is the Death of Duty - 4.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing

☆ Summary:

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name.

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

☆ AO3 ☆ || ☆ Wattpad ☆

☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 from now on upcoming chaps only on- AO3 || Wattpad )

☆ Masterlist ☆ || ☆ Spotify Playlist ☆

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Chapter 4

The early morning rays of sunshine found Maegor dozing off in the same place, leaning against the same wall in the training courtyard. Slowly opening his eyes, realization hits him and he jumps back up on his feet, groaning at the dull pain that was pulsing through his head. He cannot remember when he fell asleep but he reckons it was only for a brief moment judging by how exhausting he was feeling. An hour at most.

Everything that unfolded last night between him and Aemond was hazy and Maegor was fearful it might have been just a beautiful dream. He hoped not.

Maegor swiftly stretches his tired body and scans the yard. No one in sight yet. Thankfully it seemed too early for anyone to start their day. He makes advantage of the situation to return to his chambers unnoticed by any servants or guards as quick as possible. If anyone came across him at such an early hour it could come off as wrong. Maegor could be accused of spying or worse by the Queen or Otto Hightower considering how dear his family was to them.

Back in the safety of his chambers his eyes dart around the room, scanning it. It was strangely quiet. His elder brother was usually not a quiet sleeper, often mumbling or tossing and turning around while he slept. Growing suspicious, Maegor strides over to his brother's bedroom but he finds it empty. Maybe he took his bedroom by accident.

He darts to the other chamber. Empty. Something was not right.

"Jace?" He calls out, tensing up with a hand ready against the pommel of his Nightbringer. His senses were dulled by the exhaustion creeping in his body and he was starting to become paranoid.

"I thought I told you to return to your chambers last night, boy." Daemon's sudden voice make Maegor flinch and unsheathe his sword instinctively. His father leans against the edge of the only table in the room and looks at the blade with a bored expression completely unfazed by the defensive display.

"I could not sleep, I went to train and clear my mind. Like I always do." Maegor points out but bows his head in apology and abruptly shoves Nightbringer back in its holster. His eyes hold his father's own ones, brazenly.

He forces his body to relax as best as he could be the reality of the situation was slowly hitting him. He was caught off guard in a vulnerable moment and it was unacceptable for a warrior to be. If it was an enemy Maegor would surely be dead by now.

Daemon lets out and amused chuckle and hums in response. However his gaze is a harsh one on his son. A cold amethyst glare biting at his flesh and trying to drive him into a corner.

He knows.

"Is that so? I believe the training was fruitful seeing as you are so exhausted." His father narrows his eyes and it frays at Maegor's anxiety and nerves. He swallows drily, keeping his best facade and nods in silence. A poor attempt to mislead Daemon like so many others have tried in the past but unlike him had terrible fates.

The Rogue Prince could get under his skin the way no one else could even though he was always a great father to him and his other brothers as well. Firm but caring at the same time, not sheltering any of them like his mother did with his three half brothers. If they were enemies Maegor would have been terrified of him, but it gladdens him that they share blood and that he got mentored by him.

"Surely you must have had a sparring partner to drain you this good." The Rogue Prince hits his every nerve. Maegor could not deceive Daemon even if all of the gods came down to aid him. The man had a gift to see right through anyone's bullshit and manipulation. And it was him who taught him all his tricks, they would not best his lifetime teacher.

"I was alone. My brothers were already sleeping and I chose to not disturb them." His son keeps up with this farce, offering a poorly made up excuse without even thinking about it ahead of talking. But Maegor was too anxious to think. Half of his mind was still howling after Aemond and despite the threat of whatever punishment may come, he did not regret anything that happened last night.

"Do not lie to me boy. I was not referring to your brothers." Daemon scoffs at the pathetic excuse. Even if he wasn't a witness last night, hearing such a poor thought lie was enough to make him suspicious. Maegor rarely trained with his brothers anymore and if he did it was because Daemon himself ordered them to.

Curse the dragon blood and his father's ways of always mingling and finding everyone's secrets.

"Prince Aemond." His father presses the matter and Maegor starts pacing around the room to offer himself some kind of self comfort. He was cornered and there was no escape from the deadly dragon in front of him.

"Fair. I admit we were training together. The dinner made us both restless." Maegor groans in exasperation but his words come out more interpretable than initially thought. No sin was committed in his perspective. Daemon's torture seemed unreasonable. After all, the things his own father did in his youth could make even a seasoned prostitute turn beet red with shame.

"Not just training it would seem. I know what you did son. I saw you." His father lets out a deceiving laugh and rubs the bridge of his nose. A clear statement, the tone in his voice is firm but holds no malice. Luckily to Maegor, his father always seemed to have a softer spot for him than all of his other children.

His firstborn son reminded of him of himself and his youthful days in so many ways. At least Maegor was more inhibited when it came to his instincts and preferred more orthodox outlets, such as training with the blade or studying. It made him nostalgic. But his son could not be cursed to become him, Daemon could at least spare him of that. It was enough that the boy was in his shadow and everyone expected - or dreaded - him to grow up to be a perfect copy of the Rogue Prince. The burden of legacy was a curse for all great characters it would seem. Targaryens especially.

Maegor stops his pacing abruptly at the accusation and his cheeks turn a shade of pink. They burn with shame, not with the shame of regret but with the shame of having his secret discovered by his very own father. Why him out of everyone else?

"I shall not punish you for something that only comes natural with age. But not him." Daemon offers brief reassurance, his words bring more pain than comfort when they reach Maegor's ears.

"It is him I want." Maegor instantly retorts, holding his ground bravely and surprising his father. A bold but genuine statement.

"You can have anyone but not him. Do you understand me?" Daemon clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disapproval.

Maegor's hand curl up in fists as irritation starts pooling up in his body.

"I refuse. I want my Prince Aemond." Simply, he presses on, defending his claim with a defiance that Daemon has never encountered before from his son. It makes his father blink twice.

"Your mother and I did not engage you with anyone because we wanted you to have the freedom to choose, but I am asking you, son, to choose anyone except Aemond. You might as well lay with the enemy, he is no different." Daemon warns but the cold glare he receives back from Maegor cuts right through him and he is taken slightly aback. This never happened before.

Enemy?

Somehow he understands his son's choice but he cannot allow him to indulge it. Aemond Targaryen was an offspring of the Green bitch that was commanding in his brother's stead. His mind was poisoned by her as for the rest of her children.

Aegon might have been the eldest but he was just a fool who enjoyed women and drinking too much, he posed little threat and Helaena was just a poor girl, quite delusional in Daemon's eyes, that had the misfortune of being born in that wretched family. The fourth and youngest child, Daeron, he did not know too well, but considering how quick he was shipped to Oldtown to be schooled and trained made Daemon assume he was no better than the cunt that was Otto Hightower.

However, it was the third child that was truly lethal. The dark display and the chaos the One Eyed Prince unleashed last night at the dinner was enough proof. The One Eyed Prince was dangerous and bloodthirsty - just like Daemon was- but there was something that made him the deadliest out of all the Greens and it wasn't just Vhagar. He saw how insatiable his desire was to get vengeance on his step sons last night. Daemon could not let his firstborn son to fall in the grasp of those vipers and lose him forever like he lost his own elder brother, Viserys to them.

"Father you do not understand. The yearning I feel for him is like an insatiable hunger, hollowing me dry." Maegor grasps his hair in anger and raises his voice at his father in desperation. The blood was rushing to his head again, making him dizzy but this time with anger.

"Put an end to this farce. You do not yearn for him, boy. These feelings are fleeting, you are young still." The Rogue Prince barks. He was starting to become increasingly irritated. The two rarely had arguments, and out of all the children, Daemon despised bickering with his firstbon son the most. Maegor's stubbornness and fire could only rival his and he knew they would clash harshly. His step sons never even dared contradicting him, let alone argue with him the way Maegor did. Normally, father and son would settle their disagreements on the sparring grounds after they would both be too tired and much calmer but right now Daemon had no intention to indulge him at all.

"It is my final decision. You will not go against it and you will not mention a word about him to your mother. Tis' for your own sake, Maegor. " Daemon concludes, waving a hand in dismissal already tired of the pointless tantrum and pleading speeches. He turns and makes his way to the door to leave the room and find something else to occupy his mind with.

"Aemond has been in my heart for six fucking years. He's always been. Always." Maegor shouts at him and pleads with his father careless that someone might hear him from the hallways. Let them hear. He would shout it in their faces if he could. His father snorts crudely at the confession which angers Maegor even further.

"We are returning to Dragonstone in the eve'. Gather your belongings and bid your farewells." Daemon leaves the chambers without looking back. Maegor finds himself alone with his fury and thoughts again and in a fit of blinding anger he kicks a wooden chair against the nearest wall.

"Sīkudi nopāzmi!"

If it were anything else Maegor would feel pathetic for begging his father and throwing a tantrum like a child whose toy has been taken. The matter was more important than that however. He refuses to give up on his claim. On Aemond. There was no one else in the world he wanted other than him.

The one time he was truly desiring something other than claiming his own dragon - and becoming a dragon rider - he was being forbidden from taking it.

Maegor starts pacing furiously around the room, thinking, planning something that could get him out of this dead end his own father has placed him in. In a moment of seething rage he redirects his anger and kicks another chair. This time the wood cracks and splits slightly under the force. He needed to calm himself soon or he would end up turning the whole chamber upside down.

Then Maegor - without thinking and being increasingly unreasonable - curses his half brothers, blaming them for receiving everything they wished for. Dragons, their childhood loves and titles of high esteem. Why was he any less worthy of? He who was above them in both study and sword. He who excelled after breaking blood and sweat while they were mediocre because they were sheltered and protected. There has always been a kind of rivalry between him and his three half brothers but such cold thoughts sometimes made Maegor truly loathe and envy them.

This new kind of boiling anger he was feeling was turning him into a different person. Maegor's thoughts were slowly starting to spiral out of control if he would not find a distraction soon. Something to soothe him. No comfort would be found here as long as he would be left alone to deal with his fury. But he knew Aemond would comfort him. Maegor needed him.

The young Prince storms out of the chambers and makes his way with a sole purpose in mind. He pays no mind to the guards and servants that threw him curious and weary looks but otherwise stayed out of his way. Anyone could tell he was furious, trudging akin to a wild beast that was caged in.

Luckily his memory was still as vivid as it was six years ago and countless hallways and chambers from the Red Keep remained mapped in his head so his target is relatively easy to find, without the risk of getting lost in the gigantic keep.

Maegor suddenly finds himself in front of the heavy door that was preventing him from entering Aemond's chambers. He was looking at it silently, contemplating whether or not to disturb him. Was he even here? He paid no mind to the two guards on either side of the door who were looking at him with confusion and a bit of curiosity.

"My Prince Maegor, shall we deliver a message to Prince Aemond on your behalf?" One of the guards clears his voice and asks with a tinge of hesitation on his tongue.

After the events of the previous day in the throne hall where he mirrored his father and killed a man with no hesitation in front of the King, people started becoming weary of Maegor as well, especially since they knew little about him or his character to make a proper judgement. All they knew was that he was the Rogue Prince's firstborn son and that he bore the name of the Conqueror's own son.

"That would not be necessary. I have come to speak to him myself." Maegor shakes his head in disapproval and mirrors his father's gesture from earlier, pinching his nose bridge whilst deciding his next move.

The two guards briefly look at eachother, clearly baffled by the situation. Rare were the times when anyone wished to speak to Aemond Targaryen. Usually his presence was only requested through Ser Criston Cole by his mother or directly by the knight when the time for training came. Rarely it was Aegon drunk and bored out of his mind that wanted to get on his nerves by invading his private space, which only lasted for a few moments until Aemond's temper was quick to act and throw him out. Everyone else in the Red Keep was avoiding him, staying out of Aemond's way and his nasty temper. The eyepatch and the glimpse of the long scar from beneath were enough to scare others, but the way he carried himself and the power that came off him were truly terrifying.

Maegor was the opposite of terrified. He loved it. He loved his powerful presence. He loved how Aemond even scared his own family - Aegon and his venomous mother included. He loved what he was doing to him.

How could Maegor give up on him so easily just because his father demanded it? Because he thought he was the enemy.

Sucking in a breath he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the door for a brief moment. Thinking, planning, deciding. His bright mind was surely his greatest curse as well.

"My Prince? Are you well?" The guards question, thinking he might have been sick from how he was acting.

Maegor was not well. He was ill. But not with a sickness that could be seen or cured.

The son of the Rogue Prince smiles weakly at the thought. He takes a deep breath. There was no gain without risk, his own father thought him that.

"Wait, my Prince!"

Maegor barges inside the chambers.

The guards go after the young Prince to remove him from the room but Maegor stops abruptly and pays no mind to the heavy armored hands on his shoulders that urge his departure.

Sitting at a desk with a book in his hands, Aemond stares at him with a surprised expression on his face. The One Eyed Prince looks exhausted and sleepless but Maegor thinks he's ethereal. Long silver hair was untied and let loose on his shoulders that were covered only by a black inner shirt. His scabbard with his sword was neatly placed on the desk next to him ready to be used if needed. The only thing that wasn't discarded was his eyepatch still covering his eye as usual.

"Clear the room." Aemond says, giving a brief and stern look to the two knights but immediately softening his gaze when it returns on Maegor.

The guards nod in unison, obeying the command and swiftly exit the chambers, leaving the two young Princes alone. Maegor holds his hands behind his back and fidgets with his fingers nervously. He has so much to tell Aemond but he feels a knot in his throat. How should he start? Did anything that happen last night mean as much to his uncle as it did to him? His mind was spiraling into an amalgamation of thoughts yet again.

Aemond observes him closely, scanning him from head to toe with a gaze that only seemed to be genuine and soft when he looked at the younger Prince. Something was off about his nephew, he looked startled and shaken and it wasn't clear to Aemond that it was his own doing. What exactly, he could not tell but he allows the silence, letting the younger Prince calm whatever storm was brewing inside him and find his words.

"Sleepless night?" Maegor asks the obvious. The slight change in his voice from his usual cold and confident tone, doesn't go unnoticed by the older Prince. Did he scare his nephew last night?

"For you as well it would seem." Aemond hums. Maegor remains silent just nodding in response. The scorching fire was still there. Aemond could see it in his nephew's eyes - lilac and blue - how they were piercing him the way no one else did. The older Prince was used with weary looks of fear or disdain from everyone around him but the way Maegor looked at him made him feel strangely alive and burning. As if he was on the brink of death and that was his only lifeline keeping him breathing. The only time he ever felt such feelings before was when he was a child and he claimed the beast that is Vhagar. Now it would seem Aemond was the one being claimed instead.

"Come, let us sit." The One Eyed Prince invites his nephew, seating himself on a large divan in front of a tea table, situated in the middle of the room. He pats the seat next to him to which Maegor obediently follows and mirrors Aemond's actions.

"Something is troubling you, nephew. Is it not?" Aemond presses on in a gentle tone. Indeed he was curious about the sudden change of demeanor but at the same time he did not wish to treat Maegor harshly by being impatient. After all he came to cherish him more than he initially thought. Being the second sons that were always the targets of taunting and crude pranks as children brought them closer to each other, at first unconsciously and now knowingly all due to the hardships they endured, Aemond more of them than anyone else.

Maegor sighs deeply and lowers his head, holding his forehead with a hand. He was exhausted. Tired and angry. The argument he had with Daemon sucked him dry out of the last ounce of energy. Time was running fast and soon evening would come and his departure back to Dragonstone was inevitable.

"You see right through me, my Prince." Maegor rubs his tired eyes with one hand and smiles weakly. Aemond sucks in a silent breath hearing his nephew address him by his title for the first time.

A hand suddenly reaches out and for a brief moment every fibre in Maegor's body tenses up to a painful point and then he relaxes in an instant. Aemond's fingers were running through his bright silver locks, stroking gently and soothing him down. It was the first time anyone besides himself and his mother -when he was a child- ever performed such a tender gesture on him.

"There are no others but us here. You can always speak freely to me." Aemond hums in a voice almost as soothing as his touch.

Maegor closes his eyes and leans his head against his shoulder, akin to a feline as he lets himself be pet by his uncle. He wishes he could stop the passing of time so he could enjoy this forever.

"My fath- Daemon saw us last night in the sparring grounds. He came to my room this morning and forbid me to continue seeing you." Maegor mutters. The blood in his veins is warming up with anger as he recalls the moment. Aemond clicks his tongue in disapproval but remains silent, continuing with his soft gesture.

"I am to bid you farewell and return to Dragonstone with my family this eve'." Maegor grips his hands together in frustration. His knuckles turn white but he is too angry to feel the pain.

"I am sorry nephew, however as much as it may upset your family and certainly my own as well, I refuse to put an end to this. They cannot forbid our wants, we are dragons after all and I want you." Aemond speaks firmly, grasping Maegor's hands with one of his own. The younger Prince thinks he might be delirious hearing his uncle speak so dearly of him. It makes his stomach twist in countless of knots hearing Aemond confess his desires before him.

"It gladdens me so much to hear you say this, uncle. It chases away all my doubts and it makes me powerful, I could fight an entire army by myself." Maegor sighs and slumps down on his back across the divan, resting his head in Aemond's lap. The older Prince is slightly taken aback by the sudden action but he relaxes it when he notices Maegor closing his eyes partly from the comfort but mostly because of the tiredness biting at his bones.

"And what kind of doubts might those be, nephew?" Aemond places a hand on Maegor's chest, resting it there while his other is still in his hair, carding through it slowly.

It was as soothing for him as it was for the younger Prince. Neither of them ever had a moment of respite, they were both constantly on guard, tensed and on edge ready for anything. The second sons had to fight for their share unlike their other brothers that got everything on a silver platter. And now both of them were so atrociously touch starved.

"I was fearful I might be the only one getting scorched by this fire inside us. Scared that you might be offended by the affection I carry for you for these past six years, or that you might reject me and look down on me like you do with my half brothers." Maegor opens his eyes, fixing his gaze on his uncle as he lays his heart on a platter in front of the older Prince. If he wished to put a dagger through it at this very moment, Maegor's feelings would not change.

"You are a dragon, not like those bast- scoundrels. I never held any ill feelings for you nephew, quite the opposite." Aemond shakes his head, keeping a seemingly unbothered facade but his skin was getting hotter with every honest word his nephew spoke. His hand moved from Maegor's chest to rest on his throat, just under his chin only lightly applying pressure.

"My father told me this morning I could have anyone else in the world except you." Maegor meet's Aemond's violet eye and they are both set ablaze. His mind is getting hazy with desire.

"And?" Aemond's hand squeezes tighter.

"And I shouted in his face that it is you my body and heart yearn for. No one else. You claimed me as well that night you claimed Vhagar, uncle. " Aemond barely lets his nephew finish his words when he leans over him seal his lips shut with a searing kiss. The older Prince shifts his position until he gets on top of Maegor who was sprawled out on the divan.

Maegor groans softly in his mouth, taken aback by the sudden fervor but nonetheless reciprocates with the same passion. The younger Prince buries his hands through his uncle's long silver locks and pulls him closer, pressing their scorching bodies together. Their kiss deepens and becomes more aggressive - with teeth and biting and tongue - the hotter their shared blood starts to boil. The gentleness from the earlier tender touches was long replaced by the wildness of the dragon nature.

To Hell with Dragonstone.

If there was any voice of reason and willpower left in Maegor's brain, at this moment it was all gone. The Queen herself could have walked in on them and he would have not stopped. Neither of them would have.

Aemond's sinful mouth moves quickly from Maegor's lips to his throat, biting the skin softly and planting soft kisses along his jugular, drawing short gasps from his nephew's lips. In return, the younger Prince fumbles with the buttons on his uncle's shirt until he manages to undo them and run his hands all over, scratching across Aemond's milky white skin - his chest, his back, his shoulders. Maegor was branding his body on the back of his head.

It was suffocating. Hot, blazing hot. Scorching like dragonfire and the two Princes were both willingly to burn together.

To Hell with Daemon's command. Nothing can stop me.

Hips are pressed harder together, drawing groans and gasps from both of them as they start to get increasingly more impatient and lost in themselves. Even the air around them gets unbearably hot. Aemond's deft fingers finds the laces to Maegor's leather trousers and undoes them hastily. His teeth meet with the juncture of his nephew's neck and they bite harshly at the same time his hot hand finds and grasps Maegor. The younger Prince moans loudly, startling himself so he clamps his hands over his mouth. The older Prince knowingly marks his nephew in a place where anyone could see. But he wanted them to see that Maegor belonged to him and him alone.

"No. Let me hear you my Prince, my ears only." Aemond looms over him and he murmurs into his knuckles that have gone white, urging Maegor to uncover his mouth with soft kisses. It makes Maegor shiver from head to toe hearing Aemond call him like that and having him switch to another tender gesture in the midst of their lust.

Nonetheless, the younger Prince shakes his head reluctantly, his pupils blown wide and his mind half lost. Aemond simply hums in response but there's a mischievous glint in his eye that makes him distrustful.

Suddenly, his hand pulls his nephew's cock out of his trousers and he undoes his own trousers as well with the other one. Aemond grasps both of their burning erections together and they both moan in unison at their joining. Maegor's eyes slightly roll backwards when he feels this new sensation that tears right through his core, driving him beyond insanity. Sure, he touched himself before but having Aemond undo him like this was better than his craziest wet dreams. His hands dart from covering his mouth to twist them in the collar of his uncle's shirt. An anchor of some sorts because he was afraid he was going to either drown or suffocate.

They start kissing again. Gasping for hair and moaning in each other's faces the faster Aemond's hands kept going. The speed and friction it was unbearable, both of the young Princes were painfully close but they were fighting to make it last just for a little longer. Consuming each other like this, like predators.

"I promise the next time I will see you uncle, I will meet you as a dragonrider." Maegor mutters in between messy kisses and moans. Aemond groans against his lips and his hands squeeze their cocks harder in response, going mad with ecstasy.

"And I will claim you like you have claimed me." Maegor continues, darting one hand to grasp Aemond's own ones, urging them to put more pressure on their cocks as his other hand wraps around his uncle's throat. Maegor squeezes at his neck, mirroring what his uncle was doing inches lower.

"MaegorMaegorMaegor..."

Aemond moans his nephew's name like chanting a mantra or praying to a god. He comes undone, with Maegor following quickly after in a silent cry. The One Eyed Prince slumps on top of him, their ragged breaths echoing in unison throughout the chamber. They catch their breaths together wrapped around eacho ther like that, savoring every little second of the scarce time they have left together until the younger Prince's departure.

"A promise made must be kept." Aemond mutters a reminder in his hair, inhaling his nephew's scent, memorizing it. Neither of them knew when they would meet again. It could weeks, months even years. The future held many treacheries and uncertainties and it made them both uneasy but none the less certain about one another.

Maegor kisses him, this time softly and chastely, sealing the oath he just made to Aemond.

"I always keep my promises. It was you who taught me uncle."

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ilovemenoverfifty · 1 year

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Copybat Ch. 3

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Trans!OC

Warnings: Toxic friendship, mild transphobia, no Bruce Wayne(He'll be in the next chapter, I promise!) Word Count: 1,235

Victoria dials her best friend’s number, needing to tell someone about tomorrow night. “Toriiiii!!!” The other line exclaims. “Where’ve you been? You didn’t answer me at all yesterday!” “Hey Liza, yeah, I’m sorry about that!” “Where were you, girl?” “It’s a long story, but basically I was assaulted and ended up in the hospital! Concussion!” “You were probably over dramatic,” Liza laughs over the phone. “I’ve had concussions before, and I just slept it off for a few hours.” “My head was bashed into a wall,” Victoria states. “I blacked out and someone had to call an ambulance for me. I spent the night in the hospital and was out cold for at least three hours.” “Okay, jeez!” She groans. “No need to make it a competition!” “I DIDN’T--” Tori catches herself from screaming over the phone. “Whatever, anyway, I haven’t told you the best part.” “And what’s that?” “The aforementioned person that called me an ambulance, wanna know who he is?” “Oh my god! Just tell me!" “It was…” Victoria lowers her voice again, even though she’s alone in her apartment. “It was Bruce Wayne.” Liza is silent for a minute. “Liza?” “BRUCE WAYNE CALLED YOU AN AMBULANCE?!” “And… I’m going on a date with him tomorrow night.” “YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE WITH BRUCE WAYNE?!”

“Mhm!”

“HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs. Her heart is beating but she’s cool on the outside. “But…I was wondering, wanna help me choose what to wear tomorrow night?”

“Is that even a question? What time should I come over?”

“Later today, maybe at like, 6?”

“See you!! Love you!”

“Love you too!” Victoria hangs up the phone before going to clean herself up. Showering, changing into fresh clothes, she goes into her home office to look at her creation. Fresh eyes looking at her hand crafted batsuit, working weapons and all.

Without the mask, she’s not the most confident in herself. She has the skills to fight back, but when she’s faced with a situation like being cornered, Victoria tends to freeze up. With the mask, she knows it’ll be different. It has to be if she wants to be what the Batman is. She holds one of the arm pieces, smooth and sturdy, and just admires her work.

The rest of the day passes by, a slow Saturday for her, until Liza comes over at least. The more she thinks about it, the more excited she is about her date. She can’t begin to fathom how the prince of Gotham is interested in her.

Her doorbell rings, and she rushes to answer it, but not before making sure she locks her office door.

“Liza!” Victoria exclaims, opening the door. “You’re on time!”

“Babe! You’re going on a date with THE Bruce Wayne! Of course I’m gonna be on time to help you pick out an outfit!!” Liza rushes through the house and to Victoria’s closet. “Okay! What did he tell you to wear?”

“He said something nice,” She followed her friend to her room, sitting on the bed.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Then text him! At least ask where you’re going!”

“No! I’m not going to text Bruce Wayne on a Saturday!”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Bruce Wayne! And technically my boss!”

“Ugh, I keep on forgetting that you work at Wayne Enterprises!”

“How? You constantly bring it up!”

“I don’t know,” Liza shrugs. “I just forgot. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen you in two months!” Victoria can’t argue with that. She had essentially shut herself off from the rest of the world, using her built up vacation time to avoid being fired.

In her defense, she doesn’t have many people she could contact. Since coming out, and more so transitioning, her family has cut her off, and Liza is the only one who’s stuck with her.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry.”

“You texted me like, twice!”

“I was busy.”

“FOR TWO MONTHS?”

“YES!” Victoria crosses her arms. “What about when you went radio silent when that rich ex boyfriend of yours took you to the Bahamas for a week?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it though? You didn’t tell anyone.”

“Whatever, I’m done talking about this if you’re gonna have such a bitchy attitude about it!” Almost as if it’s a different person, Liza is smiling and happy again. “So, what are you thinking of wearing?” “I don’t know,” Victoria’s voice is quiet, crossing her arms in a defensive manner. “A dress, I guess.”

“Short or long?”

“Long. I’m thinking my black strapless one.”

“That would look soooo cute!” Liza squeals. “Oooh! And you could wear those Christian Louboutin’s that I got you!”

“Yeah, that could work.” Victoria takes a deep breath, resetting herself. “But won’t it be cold? I should have a jacket.”

“But don’t you want to show yourself off?”

“I don’t want to die from freezing.”

“He’d lend you his jacket!” Liza suggests. “He’s a gentleman after all! He called an ambulance for a concussion and asked you on a date! He’s so into you!”

“But what if he learns my personality and doesn’t like it? What if he’s creeped out by my knowledge and love of the Batman?”

“Girl, you serious?” She snickers. “If I were you, I’d be a lot more nervous about him finding out about…other stuff.” Liza motions to Victoria. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t think I should have to,” She grips the hem of her shirt. “I’ve transitioned fully so if we do anything…he won’t be caught off guard.”

“What if he wants kids?”

“Tomorrow is my first date!” Victoria jumps up. “We’re going to dinner! THAT’S IT!”

“Okay Jesus, I was just trying to be helpful!”

“It’s not working!” She raises her voice. “I am nervous as all hell about this and I wanted you to help pick me out an outfit!” “FINE! I HELPED! I’M LEAVING!” Liza storms out of the house, slamming the door in the process.

Victoria flops down on her back, sighing, and just spaces out for a while. Her energy is completely drained from Liza, and she turns on her tv to try to clear her head. She doesn’t have anyone else, though, so she can’t really drop her best friend. On the TV, there are reports of a robbery and shootout at the bank. All of the assailants, wearing clown masks, are dead. She’s heard of this psycho criminal, known as the Joker. Leaving a Joker calling card at every crime scene.

Victoria has been trying to find as much about Joker as possible, but when he surfaced, she was locked away, hardly paying attention to anything else. She’s been picking up things about him, and he fascinates her. All his methods seem to be provoking Batman. One thing she completely missed was Harvey Dent. He was being appointed as the District Attorney the next day, and it completely slipped under her radar. Victoria’s phone buzzes. A text, from Bruce.

You don’t care that I’m introducing you to a few of my friends tomorrow night, do you?

She’s not good with new people at first, and Bruce Wayne’s friends? What is she going to talk about with the ultra rich? But seeing as it’s Bruce mother-fucking Wayne, she knows he’s expecting a ‘yes’ and the question was nothing but a courtesy.

No, not at all.

Great. I’ll see you tomorrow night.

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6okuto · 1 year

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QKHDEKRBWBDJDH Im too shy to go off anon but just know that im ur secret admirer ahshdjshdjejd also sending u anon love is fun hehe 💓💓😚😚

im glad to hear that ur eyes r getting better! Hope ull be able to get the rest u need and deserve after ur sem is over <333 im doing great myself !!seeing ur reply to my ask just made my week 💗💗💗💗💗 i hope u too r eating well and staying hydrated and most importantly get enough sleep 😭😭😭😭 i hope ur day continues to be filled with happy things love u !!!💕💕💕💕💕

U dont know what kind of beast uve unleashed when u said u wanted to know more abt my ocs ong...Osjxiejdieje pls dont mind my rambling im so shameless byeee 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ also these infos might be weird its just based off my own understanding of stuff and not accurate to common knowledge so ⚰⚰

The alchemist- she's a bit on the gloomy side and honestly just tired of life 😭😭 i went with this origin first so her personality is like pretty much based off the game mc we play as, just a tad bit more passive 🚶‍♀️will melt down and turn into mush at the slightest bit of affection so i paired her with leander, and since shes gone through a lot i thought, she deserves some treat <3 and throw in mhin into the equation too hehe another random fact abt her is that she loves plain water... a LOT. Since shes a mage apprentice, i imagine that she probably learn a lot of magic stuff after meeting leander, mostly to get stronger and for self defense

The hound- she got massive trust issues (being betrayed by her friend in the thief syndicate and all) so shes extremely wary of the LIs, like if u think the in game mc is wary of the ppl in eridia, she's like 10x worse. Honestly lowkey like mhin 2.0 except a lil bit snappier 😭 i pair her with kuras and their relationship is kinda like him trying to get a stray cat with human issues to warm up to him 😭😭 doesnt get along with any of the LIs at all and always keep an arm's length around them, but she only lets kuras into her life (and fun fact he loves feeding her) surprisingly tolerates mhin too, and learns a lot abt how to use weapons from them, and since she was in a thief syndicate i imagine her agility lvl is v high (and dont tell this to my unnamed mc but my alchemist and hound mc is my favourite children...)

The unnamed- shes raised like a royalty all her life, since being an oracle means that everyone borderline worship her, but being raised at a temple also means theres many restrictions and shes honestly lowkey sick of being treated like it, though she keeps the perfect facade up, all smiles and all. Shes kind of a lil shit since after running away from the temple, she finds it hard to keep her nice facade up but still tries too hard to keep em (this results in her going 😄😄 but when she suddenly snaps she was like- omg i accidentally let my true colours out- and went back to being nice and all smiles as if her previous outburst didnt just happen- yes shes two faced) i pair her with ais and vere (aka the lil shits 😭) honestly their relationships r just ais and vere trying to make her snap and drop her nice facade its kind of hilarious

Andd yeahhs thats abt it abt them !! Sorry this got much longer than it shouldve been 😔😔 but thank u for being curious abt my silly goofies 🥺🥺 my personal fave is mhin!! And after finish talking to ais and kuras i...im lowkey interested in them disjdjejdjejdj theyre so fun??¿¿ 😭😭 leander is high up in my list too but i mostly see him as a big bro figure bc of his friendliness 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️

ANYWAYS I LOVE U SM OKAY RMMBR THAT NIA SENDING U LOTS OF VIRTUAL HUGS THHANK U FOR BRIGHTENING UP MY DAY 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

its fine i know who u are. im lying. im not. i have a hypothesis i wont say bc well thatd be awkward if i was wrong wouldnt it. STAY PERF! SENDING U ..NOT ANON LOVE...wtf is the opposite of anonymous. KNOWN! IDENTIFIED! jesus. i need to go back to sleep i think i slept for like 3 hours my body hates me or sometign....THANK YOU!!!! i will continue 2 look 4 happy things 2day. reacted under cut 2 save space :heart:

HELLO ALCHEMIST MC!!! the plain water imcirny?@%? that's real actually stay hydrated OMGG learning magic after meeting is saur smart... is she ending up w leander... WHAT IS MHIN DOING. stay so strong

HOUND MC AND KURAS that's so real. handling 2 mhins...u can do it bro... LOVES FEEDING HER 🙁 i cannot wait 2 hear abt how she lets her walls down i think the hound option is just soo good for that and kuras is an interesting choice 4 it.. + w mhin's own...defensiveness and such....yeah . stuff is going to happen here

WOWW. UNNAMED FACADE OF HAPPINESS...love the trope I LOOVEEE WHEN CHARAS DO THAT i giggle a little like omg AIS AND VERE. jesus. wow. oh wow. there is so much u can do there. oh that sounds like itll be so fun to develop

DO NAWTT APOLOGIZE i like 2 hear abt everyones ocs bc i dont make them LOL i am sure mhin would love u. i think they need the same amnt of support + self care reminders u give me like TAKE CARE OF URSELF...LET PEOPLE TAKE CARE OF U... i hope something so awesome happens for u today :heart:

#🧾nia.answers #<3 anon #so fuckin tired of punctuation #i cannot hold up the image any longer i do not use punctuation #if u see me going on and off w my apostrophes...leave me alone /lh #adding more 2s and 4s NO MORE WORDS.#q

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jodilin65 · 31 years

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FRIDAY, JANUARY 29, 1993 I have some updating to do on that guy Scott I mentioned but I’ll get to it later.

The last night I worked I cut $94 and $112 the previous night. I sent Tammy 4 envelopes stuffed with cash. I sent $280. I’ve also sent letters, but I haven’t heard from my parents or Bob. I got postcard number 3 from Kim who’s been home a few days now. It’s a really cool card.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 27, 1993 Today as I was doing my laundry (yesterday) I saw an ad. The ad said, “We need to get out of our lease and will pay $250 cash.” I called and met this girl Kathy. No, she was no butch. She was feminine, kind of pretty and with a guy. They got caught with 2 cats so they’re moving. It was a small 1-bedroom which is bigger than I thought. We went to the office and spoke to Paula and Judy. Judy said cuz I just began my job they may need Mom and Dad to co-sign. Then I thought about it and decided to wait till my lease is up here and get something bigger and even better. Plus, I just only began to get my act together, even though I plan on keeping it that way. I can’t be bothered at this moment with moving, what with the dancing and other stuff going on, too. I need to help Tammy, too.

About two weeks ago I met this really cool guy at work. He’s pretty wealthy too and owns a few businesses. He gives me lots of tips and he’d rather talk with me than have me dance for him which is cool with me. He has a connection with Capitol Records in L.A. Some guy he knows there to which he sent a tape I made. Who knows about that, but right now I have the biggest, best and most promising news ever. I think I got my foot in the door for sure. This is not the younger and naïve Jodi saying this. This is the Jodi of today who did all her homework along with John. John and I both talked to this guy named Joe who says he managed Civil Defense and Society Slaves under the name Mercury. He’s bi and his band’s all gay guys who he’d send into Entertainer’s Inc. to back me musically on a free demo. He told me to call an Al F Chicago where their main studios are. He said they only have one of their studios here, but if Al couldn’t book me here in PHX, he’d fly me and John free to Chicago. I asked why he would do all this for me. He told John and me, “I have nothing to gain, but my name on her record as she has talent and I believe she can go a long way. It’ll boost the company up, too.”

So John did some homework and called this guy in Chicago. This guy’s for real! He’s 100% legit! So, I spoke with John and Joe. Joe also spoke to Al and Al’s gonna call me. Joe feels this can all be done in a week or two.

Desperado Linda called last night and two nights ago. She called while Kara was here. This woman scares the shit out of me. I’m following my gut. No way! She’s just like a man.

I am gonna go listen to music soon and maybe watch some shows I taped.

Later…

So, it’s been 5 years and 3 months since I began all my journals.

I slept way too late today even though I surely needed to. I got up at 3:00 so it’ll be hard to sleep before 7:00 and UPS is coming today. I’m sure they’ll be here earlier than usual. If I only sleep 5 hours, then OK, as I had plenty of sleep.

Tomorrow, I’m gonna tell Laurie that I can’t stop her or Andy from talking, but that I refuse to discuss him when we’re together. I’ll also make damn sure I never say anything I don’t want Andy to hear. And he would hear it.

I haven’t heard from my parents since I left the message. They’re either not home, busy, can’t get ahold of me or they dumped me. If they did dump me, that’s their problem. Not everyone is just like Dureen and Art O.

Later…

I can hear that stupid little shit next door. I’m sure he’s enjoying his night off. He sure had a hell of a nerve being all sweet and lovey-dovey to my face last Friday night, while only a few hours earlier he cut me down to Kara. Kara said that if he asks her to tag along on errands, she’s not gonna just say no. She’s gonna tell why. He needs to get off the fucking pot which makes him so paranoid and go from A to Z. He brought this all on himself and I certainly need time. He can leave a million pleading messages, but I need a few weeks at least.

Later…

I am now watching Jenny Jones, a talk show. It’s all about women who like younger men.

I just realized that I can’t send that traveler’s check back as ma paid cash for it. I am sure it’s non-refundable. I’ll cash it and send it to Tammy along with other money in a money order.

I just sent Nervous a letter and tomorrow Kim returns from Florida. She’ll have 3 shocking, surprising, yet great letters. All with fantastic news as well as funny stuff.

Aside from helping Tammy with financial matters and going shopping, I’ll find out exactly how much I must pay to have my blocks lifted since I haven’t been here a year. I’ll probably have to pay over $100. Maybe around $150, but that’s no problem. Damn! That feels so weird saying that and it probably will for a while. I’ll owe fuckface phone bill money, too.

I still have not heard from Bob, so I have no idea what he’s up to or where he is.

I think Rachel moved back to Oregon or Alaska. Oh well.

I’ll first see if Kara can tape Gloria from the radio special before I ask Laurie.

Later…

Unfortunately, I am not one bit tired. I surely won’t end up with much sleep, but I’m gonna bust my ass at work and work my ass off (excuse the pun). Why? More money, of course, unless it’s as dead as Sunday was, even though I doubt it’ll be. It’ll also knock me out sooner when I get home.

I’ll need Laurie to bring me to and from work as John’s off. I spoke to John earlier and told him about my arrangement with Laurie.

I know Laurie sincerely needs help but is Andy trying to get us to be friends so he can come between us? Probably. However, Laurie is not going to be my “friend.” I’m paying her to drive me to help me out while I help her out.

When Linda called earlier I went a little funny on her. Kara and I were laughing our asses off. Linda was too, but I still have a bad feeling about her. Whenever she calls I’ll just read this journal pretty damn out of order. She asked why I hung up on her Monday night. Of course, I didn’t hang up on her, I told her to call me back as I had other stuff going on. She then asked if the other stuff was more important than her. Yes, I told her. I think she was half serious and half playing with me, but either way that’s pretty pushy, desperate and persistent. She also told me she refuses to give up on me. Perhaps this can be a really fun game after all. This is what I was gonna do if I ever got calls from those gay bars.

This girl is either sweet, gentle and sincere or a rough crazy brute. I just don’t know if she’s desperate in the right way or in the wrong way. We all take risks and chances, but I’d rather not on this girl. I’ll just keep playing with her which sure is fun. She keeps calling me “girl” too when I have a name.

I think I’ll send her to Building 10 across from me where I can still see her. I don’t want to send her downstairs as I couldn’t watch her without her noticing me. At Building 10, I can watch her more discreetly without being detected. She’s less likely to notice me or hear me laugh my ass off.

I’ve met and heard of other gay and violent women, but I’ve never been wanted by a woman who literally scared the shit out of me. I’m terrified to death of this girl. She makes me think of a violent butch (even with the touch of femininity) who is in jail and beats, rapes, and dominates other women. Only 10% of me feels this girl is sounding and being pushy out of good intentions. I can picture her making love to a woman, being gentle at first, then so suddenly turning into a rough brute. Out of bed, I can see her ask a woman to cook dinner. The woman says yes. Then I can see her ask the woman to do the dishes. She says, “No, not now.” Linda then beats the shit out of her. It reminds me of the night I met her, and Rena said she looked hard-core. Gee, I wonder why?

I must go read what Tina’s old apartment number is so I can send her there. She says her car will be fixed tomorrow. I’ll bet she has a truck like Andy next door does. Women like her love trucks and jeeps.

Well, anyway, I’m off to my next (paper) journal. With work now, I did not expect to finish this journal till some time in February. I most certainly hope and pray to God that during my next journal I cut my demo. I feel that I truly will. I’ll have only one thing left to achieve since I don’t want a kid or a girlfriend. That is quitting smoking as I can’t last long with cutting down. I have to either smoke or quit. I can’t cut down and stay that way.

I’ll also ask John about cheap motels as Andy’s sister and nephew are coming at the end of February. It sucks to have to leave so he can have company, even though that’s his right. At least I can afford it.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 26, 1993 Linda called earlier and I strung her along as usual. She’s just too damn desperate-sounding. At the bar, she was as well. She claims she’s still playing the field which very well could be true as that’s what most people do. But when she says, “I love you” after she leaves a message and says she’s tried calling 20 times, that makes me wonder. She’s also not that attractive in my opinion. She’s just too persistent and she does seem like she’d like to do much more than “play the field” with me. She also seems like she could be too rough with me or even violent if she can’t get her way. Maybe I am judging her cruelly, harshly and unfairly. I know I hate being judged even though I’m plenty used to it. She really could be a sweet, gentle, loving girl. But I’m gonna follow my gut and not take a chance on her. I’ll tell her she’s too persistent. It’s too hard to get involved even for one night after all this time. Time is also something I don’t have too much of. I want my space when I’m off work. My job and music are my top priorities.

I met a deaf guy who’s friends with Dave (a bartender and the one who hired me) at work whose name is Willie. John knows him, too. We signed a lot and exchanged numbers. It sure was different dancing and signing at the same time.

Later…

John’s turned out to be a really cool, honest and mature guy. He’s 100% sure I’m gonna make it musically and is already to be my bodyguard. He already is and he surely will be if we go to Chicago. And I’ll feel totally safe, too.

So what’s all this about Chicago? Well, let me write a few other things in here first.

I’m not speaking to Andy right now cuz he’s being a selfish stubborn asshole over a videotape. When he went to Vegas I followed instructions properly to change the channel on the cable box and it appears that what he wanted taped never got taped. He took a fit over that, then quickly dropped it. He tried to get a copy (Fleetwood Mac) from Mary back in MA and channel 10. He thought I did this deliberately which is BS, but anyway, I gave him money to help him out and it was over. I thought.

A few nights later we went to the cemetery and other places I mentioned and he was fine. The next day on his way to work he said he still wasn’t over it and he didn’t want to fight so he’d be in a good mood at work. He also said it was something someone said which I knew instantly was bull cuz I haven’t spoken to anyone about him. Nothing personal, only trivial, but I know he tells people all kinds of shit about me. So I left a bullshit message saying I got a call with shit revealed to me that pissed me off and that I don’t want to talk to him for a while. I also told him I wouldn’t wake him up or go in his apartment God only knows he’d fucking flip if I didn’t tell him that.

It’s pot paranoia. He also takes his misery out on others. When I’m miserable I try to hang with those that’ll boost me up, not go look for people to kick down with me. Things are going too well now for me to bother with anyone with an attitude like that.

Later…

Laurie called twice earlier. I’m sure Andy was on the line, but if he was, fine. The first time she asked if they were hiring waitresses where I work. I believe they are, I told her, cuz Diana just quit.

The second call was to tell me something oh-so-familiar. She’s struggling financially, fighting with her mom and wants to drive me to and from work for $5. I said she could drive me in, but John gets me home. However, if he’s off when I’m on, I’ll let her know. I also said I’d give her some food stamps.

She can make $5 extra Sat. by taping Variety 104.7 from 7pm-9pm for me. There’s a special on Gloria.

I’ll tell Tony about Laurie driving me in. Also, I’ll let him know when and if I need him.

I still have so, so, so much to write about, but I’m zonked. That’s good, though.

Wow! I just heard on the radio it’s to be 75° for the next two days! Ha, ha, Tammy!!

I called UPS today to clear up my address with them and her package should definitely be here today.

Later…

I spoke to Tammy today and told her UPS screwed up her package. It never came today. I called them and the girl there told me it’ll come tomorrow. It fucking better.

I also told Tammy all my good news I’ll finally write about tonight.

Later…

I had to stop to call Kara before I forgot. She may be over if Ashley shuts up and goes to sleep.

Now I’m really pissed at Andy. I need a few weeks without him as that little fuck never fails to try to come in between me and my friends. Luckily Kara isn’t Brenda. The whole time they were out last Fri. doing errands he ran his mouth about me, cutting me down. Kara tried telling him over and over to shut up about shit about either just me, or me and him. It’s up to me to tell shit about me, and shit dealing with both of us is between both of us. Every time she’d tell him to shut up, he’d continue anyway. Why doesn’t the bastard just write a book about me? He lives for talking about me like I live to be a singer. I’ve been really helpful to him since I’ve begun making money and this is how I’m treated.

He’s happy I have Kara and he’s happy I have this job, but at the same time, he’s insanely and stupidly jealous. Especially now that he’s in a bind financially and basically only has acquaintances. He doesn’t see as much of Donna, Diane, Velma or Laurie. There’s a great difference between envy and jealousy.

Later…

Kara came over after I wrote my last sentence. We had a nice talk.

Before I forget, let me mention a few things about yesterday. This new maintenance guy came over to fix my sliding door, which is still screwed up. Man oh man did he get personal. I’m pretty sure he’s all talk, I know I could beat the shit out of him, but I don’t know about other women. Basically, he told me how good I look, but was friendly. Told me that anything I said he’d never repeat, and shit that wasn’t important.

I told Stacey about it and said she didn’t have to say anything to him unless his mouth turned to actions, but to just be aware. Especially for the sake of other women, cuz I can take care of him myself. I’m not one bit worried about having to punch his lights out if need be.

I also told Stacey I am now 99% sure Robert was the one who shot the firecrackers up here.

Not only is Stacey nicer, but so are Paula and Judy, even though those two were always nice. I chatted with Paula real briefly yesterday as she was closing the model below me. I was ordering Chinese food and Paula mentioned she heard the food at Chiam’s was good. It’s the only good Chinese place out here. I brought the number and address to her at the office and she was very grateful.

MONDAY, JANUARY 25, 1993 Since I started dancing, several girls have quit or been fired. Several new ones were just hired. Brandy and Joy were fired for hooking. Brittany’s no longer there, so I guess the costume she lent me is now mine to keep. Maya’s threatening to quit and Diana just quit. We just got 5 new girls. Diamond, Pearl, Alexis, Chelsea and Dani. There are probably more whose names I can’t remember.

Diamond did my hair the other night. Better than anyone else ever has. It held up so well and the stuff she sprayed in it never made me sneeze.

Alexis and Chelsea are sisters and it seems Alexis could be bi-curious.

Dani’s so nice and we chatted tonight as it was an extremely dead night. Scott and Joe saved me, but I’ll get to who they are later.

My stomach is growling so badly, so I’m gonna continue after I go make a TV dinner.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 24, 1993 So far I’ve cut about $1,000!!!!!!! Boy does this feel weird, yet great. I’ve set aside a little stash I’m saving to send Tammy.

No wonder her package hasn’t come yet. I got a postcard from UPS to call them to correct my address. The name’s right as well as the city, street, state and zip. But it says “room 2475.”

I also got mail from mom. She sent tons of cigarette coupons which I threw out. They’re nasty brands and now I can afford to buy Carlton’s. I just now realized that. These cigarettes go fast too, cuz they’re like air.

She also sent an American Express traveler’s check for $50. Now, why would she send that? Plus, it says Bank of Boston. That’s odd. Anyhow, I’m gonna send this check right on back. I called and got their machine. I didn’t even know they had one, but I told them the best times to call me. I also told them I’d send the check back and that I’d pay for all their calls to me.

I’m getting too tired to write much more, but I slept OK pretty much yesterday. I think at 10:30 I heard a bang, but I quickly fell back to sleep. I slept for about 6 hours.

Tonight I go in at 7:00, instead of 6:00. Not only is Tony on-call if Andy’s working but so is Mary. Mary will be busy on Wednesdays, though, which is OK. I just try to find out by 5:00, so I can call a cab if I need to. They can be busy, unpredictable and undependable.

As I was sitting out on the utility box waiting for a cab by Mary’s side, Judy walked by my side and we said hi. Then Judy came around to the sidewalk even with me to continue on to the office when Mary opened her kitchen window. We said hi and Judy looked back with such a funny and confused look on her face. She couldn’t figure out if I was talking to her or to myself. Then, Mary came out and chatted with me until the cab came.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1993 Andy and I went to some dark, secluded and quiet cemetery. He’s taken me there once before. He did an interview while I was with “Shauna.” Then he got spooked because right after he smokes pot, he gets paranoid.

We then went to Fry’s where I got two packs of cigarettes, two candy bars, gumballs and these awesome stickers. They’re nothing like other stickers. They’re so small and they’re sort of padded. I put them on the sides of journals 4, 33, 36 and 39. They seem quite durable, too. I don’t really like the stars I just got cuz the tips of them keep lifting up.

After I got out of Fry’s we parked behind it. One guy came by to throw shit in the dumpster, then two guys walked along the back, then cut the corner to the front. Andy smoked more pot and he got in the car when he saw the cops coming. He reeked of the shit! He said, “Oh no. You handle this. You’re great with cops.”

The cop drove up to the front of the car and shined the lights on us, then I stepped out. All he asked is if we saw someone jump over the cement wall where we were parked near. We saw no one hop the wall.

So, the cop took off and he breathed a big sigh of relief as he still had pot in his pocket. I told him from now on to do it in his own apartment, or without me, if he’s got to do that in public. If he got in trouble, I’m not gonna go down with him if he’s caught with pot on him. He’s lucky the cop didn’t search his car. He said I was absolutely right and he won’t do that again with me around.

After that, we took off to some really classy office building. He wanted to show me this beautiful little mini pond with little waterfalls.

Then we came home and since we can’t make pranks, he called Laurie. The one who lives in Kara’s complex. She was pissed cuz he woke her up.

I like writing while he’s chatting with someone. Someone who doesn’t know I’m on the line. So, I saw Rachel’s lights on as they’re usually on late. I had him call her and I put my mute on. He mainly talked about a cute, gay male friend of hers.

After the spider incident, I decided to remove some of my stuff from my patio. I don’t want to ever reach into that tall cardboard box to pull out something and see another surprise waiting there for me. All that’s left out there are my two chairs, the white wooden table Fay gave me, the plant Jeff gave me, my broom and dustpan and my raft. I took in my photo albums. I also emptied out the two album boxes. This was also a good opportunity to junk anything I didn’t need or want. I put my tools and important papers in drawers. I threw out the two boxes, tools and papers of no use and those two furry rugs. I still have no idea if I’ll ever see the rest of my pictures, but I doubt it. I thought I could trust my own mother not to rip me off. Tammy and Dad would never do that, but that is something Mom would very definitely do. Especially if she feels I need to “grow up” and get over my celebrity picture addiction.

Well, Andy picked up my meds for me and also two old CDs of Linda’s. Simple Dreams & Mad Love.

Stacey absolutely made my day today. Can you believe I actually like her now? I do believe she realized she did step way out of line. Also, after I let her know who she was messing with, she’s been such a sweetheart to me.

Anyway, I was on my way down to get my mail when I saw the bed frame and other shit. I said to myself, oh shit, I’m fucked now and all the more I’ll never sleep. I asked a guy, “You moving in?” He said no and then I realized he had on a Vista Ventana shirt like maintenance wears. So I got the mail, then on the way back, I recognized the furniture was just like what they have here in the models. Stacey was there and I asked her if it was now a model. She said yes, but she didn’t know for how long. Obviously, long enough, or else why would they go to all the trouble of putting in furniture, wall decorations and other decorations? Hopefully, the next person in is Bob or someone I know, or they wait till after I’m gone. They’ll be in there early tomorrow, though so I’m sure they’ll wake me up.

What’s up with Bob? He hasn’t called or written. Is he on his way here? Did he lose his phone? Is he in the hospital? Dead? I hope he’s OK.

I still have much more to write about, but now I need to go listen to my music.

Later…

I sure hope I can fall asleep within an hour or so. Especially if the bitch next door or anyone setting up the model downstairs is gonna wake me up. I’m sure something or someone will. At least it’s 50/50, rather than all the time, but it still kind of sucks and isn’t fair. I’d love to find a duplex with thick walls, a pool, laundry facilities and no screaming kids. I really need to sleep solidly from 5:00 or 6:00 to 1:30 when Kara’s due to knock on my door, but ever since I complained on the bitch next door, she slams her door and bangs around. Not all the time, but much more than ever before. What does the bitch expect? It’s her fault for bringing in 15 kids.

I called the office to ask Judy if she could send someone up to put my sliding glass door on the tracks. She said they may not get to me till Monday, but that she promises to have them wait till at least 2 PM. Well, in case she fails to remember that, I’ll put a note outside for them not to bug me till after 2:00. At this point, I don’t believe Stacey, Paula or Judy would do this, but I wonder if maintenance isn’t deliberately doing this. You know how guys are. I doubt it and I’ve never had any major hassles with them, but they know I sleep late. Several times, very early they talk loud outside the window and little shit like that. Mike knows I sleep late and he’s the one who came up to do the filters. If it happens and I see a pattern, I’ll get them up in the middle of the night.

Tony, the gay guy who lives below Andy may be on reserve as far as getting me to work. Other than John, these cab drivers are totally undependable. If I do call, I’ll never request a personal. Especially Lou. Once he almost got me there late and the second time he stood me up. He also stood John up, too. The operators and dispatchers are screwed up, too. If I need a cab I’ll just call any cab and wait out by the road so they don’t drive by and get lost. Tony said he’s usually home at 5:30, so if Andy can’t take me, he said he would at 5:45. I’ll pay him $5. Andy’s working tomorrow, so he can’t take me, so I’ll ask Tony at 5:00. If he says no, I’ll call a cab at 5:00 so I have plenty of time.

As I was sitting on the utility box last Thursday, I knew Paula was coming cuz I know her footsteps. I called out, “I knew it was you.” She asked if I was going to work. I told her how screwed up the cabs were and she agreed. She knows where Sha Na Na’s is and said at least it isn’t far. That’s true. It’s only 10 minutes away.

It was nice to see so many women in there the last night I worked. There were about 8 of them. I noticed this very pretty and feminine woman sitting at the bar. I also noticed she was eyeing me quite a bit. So I approached her and told her I was about to do something bold and brave that I’d never done before. I asked if she was bi or gay. She asked if I was hitting on her. I said if the feeling were mutual. She said she was but wasn’t about to discuss it with her brother sitting right there. She told me she was a dancer there 3 years ago and that her name was Denise. I gave her my number, but she won’t call. The pretty ones never do. She also had been drinking, so she could’ve forgotten who the hell I am.

Later on, after she left, 3 guys came in who I’d seen before. They’re friends with one of the waitresses. A girl was with them and right away I could tell she was gay. She’s so-so, but maybe she would look better out of a smoky dim bar. She was a little chunky with straight long black hair cut short in front and on the sides. This is a typical butch haircut, but at least the long part was way more than a few strands. She looks mean and hard-core, but she’s much friendlier when you talk to her. Her voice is also higher, sweeter and friendlier than you’d expect it’d sound. She has dark eyes and I figured she was either Indian or Mexican. Well, she’s Mexican and originally from New Mexico, speaks fluent Spanish, is 22 years old and goes to auto mechanic school. A job that seems very fitting for her. Completely suits her. She even shocked me by telling me she has her own place and a car.

At one point we went into the bathroom together where we talked. She had to go pee, but on my way out she kissed me. She also did that in the dancing area (quicker ones) and I gave her 3 table dances and she totally drooled all over me all night. All the other girls say they’ve also given women table dances.

After she left, Jim (the bouncer) commented on how she really likes me. He also said he had several gay friends, male and female. I told him what I go for and that he could get my number from the bar to give to anyone who may be interested. I gave Linda my number figuring that she’d call cuz there is no real lust or spark. However, she may be an acceptable settlement. It’s too soon to tell after only seeing her for an hour in a dim smoky bar. I just hope she’s not rough and doesn’t want anything serious. It’s been a year now, so it’s so hard starting up anything again after all that time.

Anyway, I’d describe her as a butch with a touch of femininity. Or a feminine butch.

Time for bed. God, I hope I don’t get woken up!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 22, 1993 Not much happened yesterday. I cut $90 at work last night and $105 tonight.

A horrifying nightmare awaited me when I got home tonight. I ran to shut my kitchen window when I jumped away realizing I almost touched a huge spider! I’ve never seen anything like it. Only in pictures and on TV. I Windexed it and thank fucking God it ran towards the inside of the window. I shut it between the glass and the screen. I was still pretty freaked out. I never had such bad willies. There was no way I could sleep knowing the thing was in there and there was no way in hell I was gonna open the window and deal with it myself. I got Mike up here and he sprayed the holy hell out of the window and my sliding door. It had gone back outside the sides of the screen.

I have no idea if it was poisonous. Was it a black widow? A type of tarantula? A brown recluse? It was easily 4-5 inches in diameter. I’m afraid to ever open the windows again. Especially that one. I’ll have massive creeps.

I wonder if Tammy’s package will come tomorrow.

I really need to sleep long enough hours, though. If Andy’s up and ready to leave at noon and I’m not, I hope he still gets my prescriptions and tries looking for some CDs of Linda’s. I gave him a list and $55.

Kara left a message saying she picked up journals at the mall. I gave her $25 as she’s always at the mall.

Last night I fell asleep at 4:30 and I knew they were coming to change the filters. The other day I called Judy and told her to have them come after noon since I sleep late. She said that’d be no problem, but sure enough, at 10:30, guess who showed up? Luckily I napped from 2:00-4:00 this afternoon. I wish to fall asleep soon and get up at 1:00.

I got a gorgeous necklace and anklet from these sisters who sell jewelry once a week where I work.

I’ll write much more tomorrow, but I’m out of it now.

Later…

Hunter is on now and I’ll write while it’s on. When it’s over Andy and I are gonna go to the mountain.

Well, last night was chapter one of the spider story. Tonight I hope and pray is the final chapter. I saw it again, moving really slowly at the base of the kitchen window, between the screen and glass. I called Kara and she so bravely walked up, opened the window, crushed it with a paper towel and flushed it down the toilet. Thank God for her as I couldn’t stand knowing the thing was in there. Especially if it were to nest, and Kara said it looked pregnant.

Kara picked up 3 new journals today that are very nice. Now I have a total of 40.

Last night one of the waitresses, Diana, had on a nice belt. I told her to let me know when she gets sick of it. She said for me to let her know when I get sick of my cigarette case. I just gave it to her as I have others.

So, we got to talking and it turns out she’s an artist and went to college for it. She seems like she may be very good as she offered to get together with me and help me. She doesn’t have a phone, but she can get to one, so I gave her my number. She doesn’t have a car, but she says she will next week. She wrote down her schedule for me, too.

I’ve got to take my meds, then put on something warmer to go out. I’ll write later or tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1993 Today’s Lisa’s birthday. She is now 10. I sent her a card and $10. I cannot believe she has not written since last August, but it’s true.

Before I listen to music and try falling asleep, I’ll just do a quick update.

I never liked the doctor that Access assigned me to. I have to call them and see if I can see anyone else (a woman?). Antibiotics can cause yeast infections as they did with me. I got sick of being congested, and the itching, discharging and being bloated from the yeast infection, so at 4 AM yesterday I called John. I figured the ER would be dead at that hour and it pretty much was. I went in as an urgent case, but not an emergency. If it were an all-out deadly life-threatening attack, I’d have called an ambulance as I wouldn’t have had the 20 minutes for John to take me. St. Joe’s is 20 minutes away. I was afraid to put it off any longer knowing it could easily escalate to an emergency and a bad attack where I’d have to call the ambulance. I was fortunate enough to have a woman doctor that night. She was kind and gentle and I was given two breathing treatments as well as an antibiotic, two creams for downstairs and a refill on my Theodur.

John, who also has asthma was very understanding. He waited the two hours I was there, then drove me home. Tomorrow after work, John’s gonna stop with me so I can fill these prescriptions at a 24-hour drugstore.

I wrote two letters to Kim and I have one to mail out to Fran. I spoke briefly with Tammy and Lisa earlier. They’re doing OK. I’m gonna be helping Tammy financially.

Tomorrow I must polish my nails and perhaps Tammy’s package will arrive. I sure do hope so. I’m curious as to what she sent me.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 19, 1993 Now I am gonna finish my updating once and for all. I spoke to Tammy on the night of the 6th right before I went to go audition. She’s been very supportive and knows she can trust my judgment. She knows I would not get into a bad situation. One can do this job and still value and respect themselves. I believe sexuality’s a fact of life and I’d rather see a guy go here to get his jollies off, rather than go rape a woman or go to a hooker and continue spreading AIDS. Hookers I have no respect for. I feel sorry for them. Just one year ago or less I sure never thought I’d be doing this. Especially years ago when I did hate myself and was ashamed of my body. I’m never nervous or self-conscious, but I am aware that I still do have some never-ending flaws. Tammy also knows I can’t settle for anything and that I need to save up for a demo. In the meantime, this sure beats housekeeping, babysitting or someplace like McDonald’s.

Since I’ve begun work, I’ve made about $650. I’ve put out money to get started on G-strings, stockings and other outfits. Brandy’s gonna be selling me a dress she doesn’t want. There’s other shit to pay, too. A $10 bar tip, $3 tax, a buck to each of the 2-3 bouncers, food and cab fare.

I’d like to get new 5” heels which I hope to hell I can learn to walk in or get my 2” heels fixed. Maybe I’ll get a belly belt. A lady who sells and makes exotic costumes is to be bringing in a $10 black wrap that’s so cool. So far I’ve gotten two black G-strings. I also have a flowered 1-piece outfit that glows so well on stage cuz of the lighting. Then I have another blue 1-piece with silver studs on it. I also have a gorgeous skin-tight red dress a dancer sold me. It’s plain red with a tank top kind of top. It’s cut way low in back. I also have a maroon silk bra with black lace.

I borrowed a G-string and top. This was lent to me on my first night, but I have not seen this girl yet to return this to her. It’s nothing spectacular either.

We can take everything off, except the G-string. It’s illegal here to strip all the way. This is why my proper title isn’t a stripper. I can be called an exotic dancer, topless dancer, or a go-go-girl, but I prefer exotic dancer.

Later…

I just called the radio station to request For You by the Outfields. I hope they play it cuz I want to record it till I buy the single. There’s another one too, I’m listening for, but I don’t know its title or artist.

I told Tammy last August that I sensed that January would be their best month financially and I was right in two ways. One is that they got their $55,000 settlement from their car accident in 1989. They’re gonna add onto their house. Also, I’ll be helping them out when I can.

The package Tammy sent out was returned cuz the box fell apart. She re-sent it so I should get it any day now.

She asked if she could tell Mom and Dad what I’m doing. I said OK. After she told them she said they think it’s disgusting but they respect my opinion and want me to respect theirs. Fine.

I sent Tammy a letter and helped her with the “asshole” drawing (she tried to draw a picture of an ass, so I drew one for her).

I also told her about a hilarious little trick I played on these people in FL who sent a letter to a Dan H that ended up in my mailbox. They mentioned someone named Claudia, having to have hemorrhoid surgery, etc.

I wrote back (as Dan) and informed them that me and my boyfriend were fucking happily, Claudia can claw her pussy, sorry about your ass surgery, have Bill screw it, and all kinds of mumbo-jumbo.

I’ll have to call FL information to see if I can call them and ask if they’ve heard from Dan. Until I get my blocks lifted, I can call long-distance from Andy’s phone and easily pay him.

This feels so weird, yet great. I look at a $30 dress and out of habit, I think I can’t afford it. Then I realize I can! I can turn my heat up, leave lights on and buy all the food I want, and have food delivered. When my lease is up I want to check out a 2-bedroom. Buy more furniture for the extra room. Maybe get a bigger, more powerful microwave. Blow a few hundred in the mall here and there.

I gave $55 to Andy to pick up some old CDs of Linda’s, but he never got the chance. Maybe when he comes home we can do this together. I also want to go clothes shopping at the Merry-Go-Round.

Earlier I gave Kara $25 to get 3 journals as she’s going to the mall tomorrow really early before I wake up. She’s got a great memory, so she’ll never buy one I already have.

She so quickly and easily put in my new paper towel holder I got at Fry’s.

John and she may be dating and they each have daughters and other things in common. She and Ashley came over here and I paged him and he came over. He brought us to Fry’s and was gonna wait in his cab, but after 10 minutes, he came in and joined us. So far, he’s really cool and we had a cool and funny time. Kara and I were cracking up as we were spraying different room deodorizers all over. Due to my allergies, I must get a mild scent and I was spraying them in different directions so I wouldn’t mix them. I commented on how one was really nice and she asked where and was sniffing all over just as this woman came through the aisle. She gave us a very strange look.

I bought her a beer glass, then I realized I could afford to buy a broom and not have to borrow Andy’s anymore. I also got a huge laundry basket as I’m sick of the laundry bag. I got a dustpan that snaps right onto the broom handle. I also got hot oil treatments for my hair, sinus meds, envelopes with roses on them and Band-Aids for any blisters I get from dancing. And food, of course.

I also got these silver, gold, blue, green and red foil star stickers to decorate journals and letters with.

The radio played the song I requested, and I recorded it. They must have caller ID which shows people’s names and numbers cuz the DJ said, “Jodi in Phoenix, thanks for tuning in with us.”

So, after I almost rammed John with the broom handle in the balls accidentally, he got to see the place, then he took Kara home. I gave him $5 even though he never ran his meter.

In the store, we were checking out CDs and tapes. John asked if we’d believe Rod Stewart was his cousin. Well, I don’t see why he’d lie about that, and the eyes were very similar.

Andy, Kara and I went to K-Mart on the 5th. Andy got a $14 Rayon shirt. I got 2 pairs of bright shiny gold and black underwear with thin straps on the sides. Plus, a flowered matching set of cotton panties with a half-shirt. Then I got 8 different colored pens which I’ve been writing with. Blue, green, maroon, purple, pink, orange, aqua and red. Plus I got a pad of unlined paper with colors of deep purple, red, yellow and turquoise.

Right after I was hired at Sha Na Na’s, I ran into Tara in the laundry room. She was so psyched for me. I was also laughing at the fact that she had the same pair of gold and black panties I just bought.

I called Tonya to thank her so much for the idea of dancing. I never would’ve thought of it and now I know why we were meant to meet.

MONDAY, JANUARY 18, 1993 Kara is here right now. I still have lots of updating to do (naturally). We are now listening to a recent tape of Nervous, Fran and I.

I just showed Kara this amazing, shocking and ironic fortune I got out of a fortune cookie. I ordered Chinese food a few nights ago and one of the fortune cookies said: You will never need to worry about a steady income. What a trip, huh?

Kara has spoken with Nervous and Fran. Nervous sent back my pictures. Nervous and I have had some good talks, but Fran’s been trying hopelessly to call me. Of course, every time he calls, I’m not home or asleep. I haven’t heard from Bob since the very beginning of January. I wonder where he is. Did he lose his phone? Is he on his way here?

Earlier, Andy left for Vegas. He’ll be back Wednesday night. Originally, his sister and nephew were coming out from the 23rd to the 26th, but now they’ll be here at the end of Feb. I was gonna stay in a cheap motel so Andy could sleep in my bed and I wouldn’t have to get up when his nephew decides to go berserk. I’ll look into one for Feb.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 1993 Just got off work an hour ago and I’m beat. My feet are always sore by 11:00.

At first, I panicked, wondering if I’d get in on time. Lou got lost, but he finally got here and got me there just in time.

I made between $90-$100. I can’t tell exactly cuz I mixed other money with tonight’s money.

Last night I gave Andy $55 to get some CDs of Linda’s. Soon I’m gonna order this instrumental CD through the mail.

I finally got that Bedazzeler kit in the mail and I had a blast with it for 4 hours. I did my suede fringed coat, my black leather shoes, shirts, skirts and shorts.

Mom sent 2 packages. She sent a denim skirt and jacket. I really like the jacket. She also sent a flannel shirt I don’t care for. She sent another troll doll key chain, a ceramic elephant, another toy piano, and a puzzle. I gave the puzzle and piano to Ashley. She sent 2 bags of lemon-honey cough drops (yuck). I gave one to Kara and one to Andy. I also gave Andy these 2’ long green plastic palm trees. You blow them up like a raft and they have suction cups on them so you can stick them in your window. I gave them to Andy cuz they kept falling down.

Mom also sent hangers and 3 pairs of shoes. One was white sneakers with little diamonds. They were too small, and they looked too much like a nurse’s shoes. The second pair was kind of geeky, yet kind of OK. They were denim. The third pair I gave to Velma to give away to some girl. I don’t do moccasins and that’s what they were.

I still have so much catching up to do with my journal writing (among other shit), but forget it. I’m beat. I must continue tomorrow.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 15, 1993 The longer I put off everything, the harder it’ll be to catch up, so I’d better get on with it. Andy, Kara and I went to Sha Na Na’s which is only 10 minutes away on the night of the 6th of January Kara and I both filled out applications. She wasn’t granted an audition, but I was lucky and got one. They have 3 round stages and I did a song on 2 of them (2 songs) and miraculously I wasn’t one bit nervous. I got $18 just to do 2 songs. Some tips were even from the other dancers!

Before going on stage, Dave (a close friend of the owner who hired me), took me back into the dressing room. The dancers were so supportive and helpful and still are. They broke me in on some of the rules. You can move your hand by your privates but not touch them. You can’t do anything that simulates a sexual act. The law is you must put latex on your nipples. It itches at first, but it peels off easily.

So far, all the dancers, bartenders, bouncers and the DJ are cool. I basically keep to myself somewhat, but most of these girls are bi. I was shocked at how many are bi and some know I’m gay and my future goal is to save up enough money to cut a demo. This is all they know, but they don’t know my background. Dancers are very liberal and open-minded. I figured there’d be bisexual women there. None just gay as Dave would never hire an ugly butch.

It doesn’t have this competitive feeling there. It does feel like a tight group and everyone helps each other.

Of course, the guys can tip as much as they want, but they can’t give you change. They don’t have to give us anything for a stage dance, but it’s $5 for a table dance. A table dance is one-to-one wherever the guy’s sitting. On stage, you’re dancing for everyone. You put your money in your G-string or stockings.

My permanent schedule is Saturday, Sunday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 6 PM-1 AM. We are to be there at 6:00 as the day shift finishes up, then we begin at 6:30. I’ve worked 5 days so far. My first 3 days I got $65. On the fourth day, I got $126 and the last $84!

My first 3 days, Kara came up and rode back with me in a cab. Once I felt secure, I was on my own. I’ve even got two regular drivers. I feel very safe during and after work. The bouncers will throw out anyone who tries to touch us.

Later…

One of my regular drivers on the way home is John. He once worked there as a bouncer and he may be going back. Or be a cop, corrections officer or personal bodyguard. He’s flat-rated me $5 and given me his cab & ID number. Also, he gave me the cab number & ID number of the guy who he leases the cab from named Lou who drives in the daytime. Andy will usually drive me in. If not, I can try Rick (Kara’s dad) or call Lou. I’ve never met Lou, but John told him I may or may not need him tomorrow. I never need to call John when I’m done. He’s there automatically at 1:00 and he watches me till I get in here.

At the end of the night, my feet hurt, but I’m getting used to it. After my first night, my legs were killing me, but now they’re fine.

They now have a shoe repair service at the office and I’ll either have my black 2” heels fixed there or buy new 5” heels. The bottom of one of my heels broke off. It only costs $5, but it can’t be done until February 4th.

I’ve told Stacey, Paula and Judy about my new job and they were all so psyched for me. Even Stacey. I am totally psyched! It feels great to finally have a job I love and to be making great money. My future goal is to save up enough money to cut a demo as I said. The only alternative to sleeping my way there is to buy my way in.

The DJ’s name is Andy and he looks like a dark-haired, longer-haired, thicker-haired version of Jai. He also wears the same John Lennon glasses. He’s a bass player and he looks like one, too.

The bartenders on my shift are Larry and Greg.

There are 3 bouncers, but I can only remember Dave’s name. Usually 2 work, but on weekends all 3 work.

Some of the dancers’ names on my shift are Stormy, Brandy, Shelby, Ruby, Christine, Joy, Maya, Jenna, Corey, Keri, Rena, Crystal, and that’s all I can remember right now even though there are more.

There were these two girls Sarah and Jodi that got fired. Jodi was bi and hot. There’s Nadia too, and she’s hot.

Some girls use their real names and some have stage names. Mine’s Mystery.

Maya, another dancer is bi, and with makeup on and nice clothes, she’s OK. She said she has a boyfriend, but they like to stray. I told her I like that idea so no one puts strings on me. She took my number but told me she was not looking to stray right now. This is typical, but then I realized this is for the better cuz we work together.

The night I began working, Kara said she felt lust in two weeks, but I don’t. My top priority is the job now.

I may have forgotten to mention this, but I wrote personal ads to two bars, figuring I’d send them to the apartment below me which is still vacant. I sent it under the name Ashley so that if anyone called asking for that name, I’d know it was from the bar. Then, this feeling came on that it’d get lost in the mail or whatever, but mainly that I’d get no calls. I’ve gotten no calls, but with this job, I barely have time to have any good laughs. I do have enough free time, though, still.

After dancing all night, it’s easier to fall asleep. This job does knock you on your ass when your shift is over.

First shift goes from noon - 6:30 PM.

Andy will be calling around midnight to come over and play cards.

I was just watching Charlie’s Angels. I’ve dreamed of them bringing that show back and they did on a cable channel. So, Andy, who has cable, tapes it the 5 days a week it’s on.

There are a few women who sell exotic costumes down at the club like, lingerie, stockings, garters and G-strings. They bring their stuff into the dressing room. They’ve got awesome stuff at awesome prices. At a place like Frederick’s of Hollywood, this stuff would cost double, if not triple.

I’ll write more later cuz I think Andy’s about to call.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 1993 I cannot believe all that’s happened to me. I have so much to tell. I am like oh my God, oh my God! I am still in such shock, but it feels so good. Yesterday evening I auditioned at Sha Na Na’s and got hired as an exotic dancer! I’m working Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. I believe these will be my regular working days.

I have so much to write about that and many other things, but soon I must get ready for work.

Got a package from my parents with hangers, a denim skirt, a denim jacket, a flannel shirt, and a troll key chain.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1993 Well, another year has gone by and now begun. Another year I have improved, and my life has improved in so many different ways, but at the same time, I’m still nowhere and nobody.

So I’ve written during, 1987, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1992 and 1993. Seven different years, even though I’ve only written for 5 years and 2 months and 5 days. On Jan. 8th, it’ll be 2000 days.

Been out on my own for 7 years and 1 month on January 3rd.

Well, I have to get Lisa a B-Day card. She’ll be 10 on the 20th. I’ll send her $10, too.

I’m sure that in 1993, I won’t have sex. Well, maybe, and I mean just maybe, I’ll have sex, but never will I ever have lust. Never will experience lust like with Ann Marie, let alone the ultimate lust.

I called Susie who told me to call her at Dennis’s at a certain time. I did, but she says she’ll contact me when she’s sorted through everything. She asked me if I want the matching chair that Andy didn’t take. I have no room for it so I called and asked Alana if she wanted it. She said yes and Kara came and got it. I gave her money for cigarettes for both of us.

My checks must’ve come in later yesterday. Kara’s going to be getting hers soon.

We crimped each other’s hair.

Sometimes I wonder if I should beg and plead for God to send me some lust, but I know it’ll do no good as we made a deal with Ann Marie. And I got two nights with her, not only one. It’s also so much easier for me not to bother. After being alone so damn long, it’s way too hard and awkward changing. Maybe in another 5-10 years, I could get another Ann Marie, but that’d mean I’d have to go to the bars, put personal ads in and get my head played with till I got lucky in 5-10 years. It’s no longer worth all that. I believe I’m meant to be celibate for a long time, then maybe have “sex.” I know God’s keeping the deal, cuz if lust was in the cards he’d send it to me somehow knowing I’ll never step foot in a bar again. There’s a reason why I’m feminine and am attracted to feminine women and that’s cuz I’m meant to be celibate and independent. Someday down the road, though, I’d like to (within reason) return to settling. I want to learn how to do that like most people can cuz that’s life and reality.

Later…

Earlier I typed up a letter to Kim. I haven’t heard from her in a while, so I hope she writes soon. Next, I’ll write letters to Bob, my parents, my nieces and Tammy. I wonder if my parents and Tammy tried calling yesterday, but hung up before the machine came on.

I hope Dennis writes to me, but I doubt it. He said he doesn’t like to write. He took off yesterday for Williams, but he’s not too sure yet what he’s gonna do. He may go live with an aunt in Washington D.C. Maybe work helping to rebuild after Hurricane Andrew in Florida. Or work with some guy he knows on a ranch in Venezuela. I gave him an address label and told him to get in touch with me when he knows what he’s gonna do.

Andy and Kara left me messages wishing me a happy new year. Kara said to call her in the morning.

Since we could never program channel 3 into my VCR, I taped Hard Rock Cafe in New York. It was nothing spectacular, but I really wanted to tape Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve. They showed a little bit of Times Square and it was snowing pretty hard. Through the fireworks, I could see the snow. I also could tell it was bitter freezing cold cuz I could see people’s breath in the air very well.

I guess I really haven’t made any new year’s resolutions any more than I made any birthday wishes. My last remaining wishes just cannot come true. I just wish I wanted some other career as badly as I wanted to be a singer. I also wish I could quit smoking and be madly attracted to butches. All this sure would make my life near perfect. I guess God’s got to leave each of us with a few things we can never have or ever do.

I sang softly earlier and later on I’ll belt it out. Then Andi can listen to me for a change.

I put up two Gloria posters, but soon I’ll be trashing them along with 95% of my collection. My mom has already trashed about 60% of my collection. Once I get my other guitar and see that my pictures aren’t in the case, I’ll be sure to trash all but a few I’ve got here. I just don’t want half of my collection. I want all of it or none of it.

Today I may also color my posters and edit tapes.

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casspurrjoybell-18 · 5 months

Text

Worthless - Chapter 3

*Warning Adult Content*

Kade

"Where the hell is Rory?" I yelled, starting to get pissed.

First the bastard gets a hold of my phone and sets 'I'm A Barbie Girl' as my alarm then I get all ready to go but he hasn't even shown up, leaving me waiting for the last four hours. Pacing, I growled, causing Jasper, who was making breakfast, to snicker. I sent him a glare and he raised his hands in defense with a grin. Rory decided to walk in at that moment, still in his pajamas and looking like a zombie. Feeling my glare, he turned to me. It took a moment for him to focus enough to make a coherent sentence.

"Ahh, morning Kade. What are you *yawn* doing up so early?"

"Early? It's past noon Rory."

He paused to glanced at the stove clock.

"Why the fuck are you making breakfast now Jasper?"

Not that I was complaining. I haven't had breakfast yet since I thought I would hunt while patrolling.

"Cause this guy gets up so late but demands breakfast or he won't work."

He shook his head with a sigh.

"If it wasn't for Eric spoiling him I wouldn't."

It was true, Eric did spoil Rory. It wasn't just because they were brothers. Rory, though he could make you want to commit murder at times and suicide during the others, was someone you couldn't hate. He was really easy going and could bring even the most gloomy person into a smile. Everyone saw him as a little brother and even though we were the same age, I did as well.

"Don't lie, you love me," Rory replied cheekily to which Jasper responds by smacking him upside the head.

I watched their exchange with amusement, the anger already flowing out of my body as I dug into the food. You just can't be anything but happy eating Jasper's cooking. Jasper was similar to Rory in the sense that you couldn't dislike either of them. That was where the similarities ended though. Where Rory was loud and bold, Jasper tended to stay quiet, choosing to stay out of the spotlight. Plus, Jasper could cook. Rory on the other hand was forbidden from going into the kitchen unless it was to eat. He was also banned from the armory and garage too due to a couple of 'small' incidents. I literally dragged Rory out after making him get ready. He cussed and squirmed, trying to get away but I won in the end.

********

Now we were shifted and running to meet up with Shelby, who was also on patrol duty. I kept glancing at Rory as we ran, making sure he didn't fall behind. It's not like he'd skip out, he was actually a really hard worker once he woke up but he was small compared to me so I had to make sure not to go so fast. Looking at him anyone could see the similarities between him and the Alpha. Like Eric, Rory had dark fur that shown brown when hit with light and had amber eyes. If not for the scent and the size, you couldn't tell them apart.

'Man, I have to fix the roof after patrol,' Rory started to complain.

It was due to a recent firework incident that he swears he wasn't even close to. Seems that Eric decided that fixing it, and doing patrol every other day, was his punishment for almost burning down the house. He was trying to get me to convince Eric to let him off when we caught up to Shelby.

'Hey, guys, right on time,' I sent Rory a glare but he was suddenly super interested in a mushroom.

'Yeah, if I would've known that we didn't have morning patrol I would've slept in.'

There was an amused twinkle in her eye.

'Well let's get going, we're only doing the east border today and then meet up with Eric.'

After a nudge to Rory, we started at a light run. It took us a little under an hour to patrol the eastern border. It was mainly due to Rory going so slow. He kept complaining about how we teamed up with his brother to kill him.

'Seriously, though. I know I'm hella sexy but that doesn't mean you all have to follow my brother in plotting my downfall. There's enough of Rory for everyone. What is it that I'm supposedly plotting?' Eric suddenly asked as he appeared from behind a group of trees.

'Oh, nothing, just how you want me out of the way because everyone wants my body,' Rory hummed causing Eric to snort.

I was about to tell him that he was full of shit when the wind suddenly shifted. It smelled like the forest but had a strangely sweet twist. Mouth watering, I spun around, intending to follow it to the source.

'Kade, it's nothing to worry about, just a lone wolf,' Eric reassured me.

When I didn't acknowledge that I heard him he and the others followed. My pace quickened as the scent got stronger until eventually the others had to run to keep up. Rory almost collided into me when I stopped suddenly at the edge of a clearing. In the shade opposite of me lay a wolf with a pelt of white and auburn. He turned to look at me, suddenly sensing my presence and I locked gazes with a pair of breath taking eyes that seemed to have every shade of blue in them. His scent invaded me, stirring something I didn't know I had.

'Mate,' I growled.

He shot up suddenly and I realized that I had unconsciously started towards him. I stopped, making sure I wouldn't scare him off. Reaching out to his mind I tried to show that I had no ill intentions, that I wouldn't hurt him because he was my mate. I was shocked when I hit a barrier. Not paying attention to the low growl that emitted from him, I pushed a little, inching forward. I didn't notice him tense up. I didn't give any thought as to why he was crouched down and I sure as hell didn't expect him to lunge.

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macaroni-rascal · 9 months

Note

Sorry for the confusion! I wasn’t asking why…that was the interview question. I just agreed with his statement and thought you would too so I wanted to share. He has another interview from 2021 where he said the same thing, and it summed up my biggest issue with P/C (that they could only do one thing). With all the talk of them coming back (which I agree…I would rather see them again than a Bock medal for sure), i just appreciated seeing a sound critique.

Have a lovely day!

Ohhh my god, of course the why was in the interview. In my defense I woke a half an hour ago and slept only 3 hours, so wasn't on me, haha! It is a great quote though, they can only do one thing, but they do that thing really well, versus Bock, who attempt (sort of) to do different stuff (snake dance, alien dance, fire and air dance, time dance), and fail every time. P/C, come save us with your boring programs! Please!

#konner talks skating

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gothsparrow96 · 9 months

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Christmas Day. That’s what today is, here in Australia. I’m spending it on my own. It’s okay, my partner just took our kids to visit his family. I wanted time to myself, ya know?

I miss my dad, though. Christmas Day is 1 month and 15 days after the anniversary of his death, so it’s hard. It’s only been 3 years and sometimes I forget. Almost did it today, actually. Almost sent him a Facebook message, before it hit me he wouldn’t answer. He never will, not anymore. Cancer is a bitch.

My partner hasn’t really been present in our relationship. We’ve talked about it, he says he feel like life is out of control and he’s running on autopilot. I understand, truely I do. I feel the same. Doesn’t stop me from showing him I care though. He doesn’t even hug me. No kisses, even small cheek kisses. Barely even touches me, actually. Unless sex in involved. Even then there is no kissing, no holding me close. I feel so touch starved and lonely. Which is fucking stupid, considering we do have sex at least once or twice a week, unless I’m on my period. I don’t know what do to, honestly. I have told him I feel like he doesn’t care and that he needs to actively try to be better. He said he understood and that he would, but he hasn’t, not really. Am I asking too much? I think so.

I should mention, he won’t reply to my messages for up to 4 hours, but he can reply to the women he became friends with through a mobile game within 4 seconds. His best friend is a woman, which isn’t a bad thing, but she’s the reason he broke up with me in 2020. Conveniently two weeks after she dumped her ex at the time. He also used to hide his messages with her from me. He went to the movies with her and like, 4 other friends. Told me back then he went straight to one of the male friends houses and then to sleep. He recently said she was there as well, but nothing happened, because they weren’t alone. I don’t believe him, honestly. Why hide that for over 3 years, if nothing happened? Did he think it wouldn’t upset me? I think he knew it would, and said it to hurt me.

I know I’m unlovable. My kids love me, but that’s a different kind of love. I’m incapable of being loved romantically. I feel like he used me to get off, but he always makes sure I get off first. Says I’m the only one who makes him feel like that. I’m his first. Sex and long term relationship, I mean. How would he know I’m the only one who can make him feel like that, unless he lied to me about fucking his “best friend” only 2 days after dumping me? I don’t know.

I don’t think he was serious when he said he’d try to be better. Or that he actually listened and heard me. Like, he didn’t listen, to internalise and understand. He just listened to respond and be defensive. And so he knew what to say to get me off his back.

Am I delusional? I have 3 kids. 1 from a previous relationship that I had at 16, and 2 kids with him. We have been together for 11 years, not including the breakup. I have given up my body, in the most intense way, for him. It feels like I’m being taken for granted. Maybe I am. And I’m allowing it. Because I’m in love with him. The thought of being with anyone else feels wrong. We actually were broken up from March 2nd 2020 to May 11th 2021. We lived together during that time, or he would’ve been homeless. I was heartbroken, not cruel. And yeah, we were still fucking, occasionally. I got pregnant during that and had our second and last child in February 2021. He is the one who came back to me. And only because I went to the movies with a guy friend of mine, and I almost slept with that friend. Like, I was single, he was nice to me and he seemed genuinely into me. We didn’t have sex, but I honestly did want to. Then my partner came to me a week later, later next to me in my bed, held me and apologised, cried a bit and then begged me to let him have a second chance. That he’d be better, that he would show he loved me more. So I said yes, we kissed and then cuddled for a little while, until our daughter came in and wanted cuddles and then breakfast. But the way he’s acting now, makes me think he has somehow convinced himself that HE gave ME a second chance. One I didn’t need, because I wasn’t the one who broke us up. HE was. And he let his “best friend” fucking convince him it was the right thing to do.

I was friend with the “best friend” as well. And then she suddenly blocked me on Facebook 2 days before he dumped me and then on Instagram like 2 days after he dumped me. He says it was an “in the moment decision” to break up with me, but her actions prove otherwise. He doesn’t see her behaviour as a red flag. I do. Because it is. Your friends should respect your partner and relationships ship and at least try to be civil and amicable. She straight up told him she doesn’t like me and he’s fine with that.

He says he isn’t attracted to her because she’s taller than him, but I think he’s lying. I don’t know anymore. Would it be wrong of me to want to see their messages to each other? To ask for proof that he isn’t being unfaithful in general? For peace of mind? Shouldn’t he want to show he’s faithful and to comfort me? To prove to me that my fears are not real? To prove he does still love me? He doesn’t say it anymore. I point it out to him and he keeps falling back on “my life feels out of control and I’m bad at showing affection to adults. I have to actively choose to do it” excuse. Which also proved to me that he is choosing to treat me badly right now.

I just don’t know what to do. I miss when he was caring and loving. I miss making a coffee in the morning and having him come up behind me, wrap his arms around my waist, rest his chin on my shoulder and say “good morning beautiful” and then kiss my cheek. I miss the little back touches or arm touches. I feel so touch starved and lonely, and our youngest is starting to pick up on his behaviour and mimic it. He used to love it when I would cuddle him, but recently, he copies his dad and says “no dint want to” and runs away. It hurts, honestly. I knows he’s young. He’ll be 3 in February. He doesn’t really know any differently. It still sucks. Our daughter will take any opportunity to get a cuddle though. She’s 6, so she sort of understands a bit better that Daddy isn’t always being nice to Mummy and that even Mummy needs a cuddle. My partner does cuddle and kiss and love our kids, though. He says it’s different, because that’s more instinctual. It feels more natural and not as difficult to remember to love the kids, because that’s what being a parent is about. Loving your kids. I just wish he’d show them that he also does still love their mother. They see more than he thinks. All kids do.

Sorry for ranting so long. I’ve been typing this up for a long time. Almost a full hour and a half. I guess there is a lot I needed to get out. I know this isn’t the place, but if anyone sees this and has advice, that would be awesome. Even just some words of comfort or positivity.

I don’t want to be lonely anymore.

Thank you for reading all this. Thank you for not giving up on it. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you

#sorry #sadness #depression #lonely #touchstarved #I can’t keep doing this shit #help #love #Hellenic #pagan

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alightineverydarkness · 3 years

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February 25th, 2022

It seems almost pointless to try and find words, because words, a mean of communication, cannot square up to the immense indifference of war: it simply does not care. In the past two days, I have not been able to sleep for more than three hours, most of my time spent coming to terms with a very real possibility that none of my hopes and dreams in life are going to come true, no matter how hard I may have tried. There is a good chance I won’t be a musician, or put out a successful album, or finish the records I’m working on right now, or go on tour, or have a signature style, or produce someone else’s record, or get to grow old and have a cool catalogue, or be a Brian Eno or a Scott Walker. A good chance I won’t marry, start a family, live somewhere else, build my home, or a house, or plant a tree, or see my girlfriend again, or move in with her, or have sex. I may not get to see my friends, or any of my favorite musicians, or live music in general, I may never get to read any of the fantastic books I’ve bought over the past couple of years, or finish the one I’m reading right now. It’s not unlikely that I’ll never get to wear nice clothes again, or get new shoes, or that t-shirt I want to make, or nice glasses. Or fix my eyesight. I may never get to try another haircut, or change my style, or get a new tattoo, or get to see if I’m actually balding or not. Maybe I’ll never get to cook a really good meal again, or get to go vegan, or have a house party, or try really nice whiskey, or do karaoke again, or learn to drive a car, or hear a great new album, or watch all the documentaries I was going to, or finish «Seinfeld», or even get to see Putin die — which seemed a guarantee until yesterday, with him being old and deserving of it, you know. There is a chance I’ve already heard the funniest joke I was ever going to hear. There is a chance that this me here is my final form and this was how I lived and this is what I’ve achieved in a life. I have no regrets and I have done my best to love, to be kind, to be honest. Of course, though, as I write this at 3:29 AM on February 25th in Kyiv, 24 hours have not been so far enough to confront and reconcile with my mortality, or draw a bottom line under the facts of my life, or get any of my mental affairs in order, but this felt necessary to realize. Now I am imagining someone else in my apartment, taking down my posters, carrying off my books somewhere, possibly going through my laptop or hard drive, potentially even sharing some of the mediocre unfinished music I left. Well, anyway.

Right now we are expecting the first airstrikes upon Kyiv, which were predicted to start at 3 AM. I just woke up my roommate, who slept in the hallway, since his room faces the street, and my plan for today is to finish a song for a new alias of mine, share it, and sign up for the territorial defense, provided with my non-military skillset I can be of use. After all I just said, it may be surprising, but I am not sad, not anxious, not scared, only angry.

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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Get Lucky (S.R.)

Summary: The fire alarm in your apartment building goes off at 3AM after a pipe bursts in the middle of winter. You are soaked and you left your wallet in the apartment. You only (barely) know the FBI agent who lives in the building, but he offers to share his jacket, and eventually a hotel room, with you. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Strangers to lovers, only one bed trope, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), face-sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex (condom), implied weight for Reader (she wears his shirt/boxers) Word Count: 8.1k

MASTERLIST

There was supposed to be something romantic about winter nights in the city. The poorly maintained lighting was supplemented with colorful bulbs that caught every snowflake. Each frozen lattice refracted the light and littered the air with rainbows. For a few hours, while Washington, D.C. slept, the prismatic powder would cut through the smog.

There was usually a purity, a serenity to the city soaked in snow. But that night, as I stood in three inches of snow in already drenched slippers, I only had one thought regarding the world around me.

“It’s fucking freezing out here!”

My voice didn’t echo back to me, and instead dissipated into distant honking of an insistent fire truck slowly fighting its way through construction gridlock at 3am.

I hadn’t expected anyone to answer my cry, which had been borne out of frustration and apathy for everything around me that moment.

But someone did answer. And oh boy, did he piss me off.

“It’s actually only 35 degrees, so we’re 3 degrees off,” the man corrected what was an obvious hyperbole.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything to explain just how close this man had come to death. But when I finally turned and spotted the sleepy smile of my neighbor, I couldn’t help but soften at the sight. His eyes were barely open behind foggy glasses he’d thrown on in a hurry and he was swaddled in a chunky cardigan that must’ve been three times his size. It might as well have been a blanket.

A warm, cuddly, insanely soft looking…

“But in your defense, I think we’re close enough for it to count,” he interrupted as effortlessly as ever.

I smiled even though it felt like it should be impossible under the circumstances. Even though I couldn’t feel my ears that were suddenly burning as my face flushed with heat when I saw his eyes quickly scan my body.

“You were about 3 degrees away from getting your ass kicked,” I warned playfully.

He smiled. Then he made it worse.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the best ice breaker right now,” he snickered.

“Say one more cold thing, I dare you.”

With both hands in the air (in a very inviting way), he immediately conceded to my fury.

“Sorry!” he laughed through the surrender, “I’ll stop talking.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I grumbled, “It’s a nice distraction from the fact I can’t feel my toes.”

I looked down at the offending digits as if my glaring would make them any warmer. But it did nothing to make that contradictory burn any less painful when I’d tried to move them.

While I was trying to bend the laws of thermodynamics, however, my neighbor had decided to work within their confines to find a solution. One that consisted of him stripping off his comfy cardigan and baring his arms to the cold.

“Here,” he offered, holding out the knit fabric. “I don’t have anything for your feet, but I do have this.”

I suppose a better person would’ve refused at least once before they took it, but I was not a better person. I was a cold motherfucker standing in the snow with wet socks, so I snatched the cardigan without a single second’s hesitation. As I wrestled to put it on, I swore I saw him smile at just how eager I had been to wear his clothes.

Once I was settled, and a few degrees warmer thanks to his body heat, I sighed, “You’re a lifesaver. Aren’t you going to get cold, though?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m freezing,” he admitted bluntly enough that it made us both laugh. Then, to make me feel at least a little better about torturing the poor boy, he continued, “But I’m also not all wet, so…”

The thought was interrupted by the blaring fire engine horn as it barreled down the street to the building that was most definitely not on fire. The flashing lights illuminated similarly colored Christmas decorations, and I tried to find beauty in the free, albeit shitty, light show.

“Do you think they’ll let us back in tonight?” I wondered aloud.

“Probably, but… Not for a while,” he answered with that annoying honesty. “The pipe burst in your apartment, right? I saw the water.”

“Yeah. I’m basically Murphy’s Law personified.”

“Funny. That’s usually my line,” he chuckled.

While I probably should’ve been offended by how much joy he found in my misfortune, I couldn’t help but join him. There was little else to do when you found yourself half-frozen and swaddled in your cute neighbor’s cardigan that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.

“Yeah? Tough. You’ve been out-bad-lucked,” I said before sticking out my tongue.

His eyes darted down to it with a startling speed. In the vibrant red light, I watched his lips part to make way for his own tongue sweeping over them. But before the fantasies got too far, he cleared his throat and shattered the moment.

“I’m probably going to go drive to the closest hotel. Did you want a ride?”

“I have a car,” I responded on instinct. After all, it wasn’t often that men offered a ride that didn’t come with ulterior motives. I was satisfied that I’d made the right decision in reacting quickly… until I started to run the mental checklist of where my essentials were.

It was only then that I realized just how badly I’d fucked up.

“… But my keys are upstairs,” I sighed before hanging my head in shame, “… and so is my wallet.”

I was convinced that the worst thing he could’ve responded with was pity, or some white-knight offer to save me from my own misfortune. But much to my chagrin — and in an odd, contradictory way, my delight — he responded in a different way.

He laughed.

“Wow… you really are unlucky.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are very punchable?” I squeaked back immediately, only for him to answer just as quickly, “No, usually they just hit me.”

“Well, now I just feel bad for you. Thanks a lot.”

Again, the self-assured grin he flashed might’ve been off-putting if he hadn’t been so damn charming at the same time. Still, it stoked my competitive spirit a little too well. How nice it would be, I thought, to wipe it right off his face. How sweet a sight it would be for him to be so overwhelmed that he could barely even manage to speak.

“What are you going to do, then?” he asked.

“What? About what?” I answered in the guiltiest possible way.

His eyebrows jumped in response to my quick and confusing reply, but he was kind enough to clarify nonetheless, “Is there someone you can call? A… boyfriend? Or something?”

Smooth move, neighbor boy.

“No, not really. My phone is also upstairs, probably under a foot of water.”

I wasn’t sure I could make it any more pathetic, but somehow, I managed.

“And truth be told, even if I had it I… wouldn’t know who to call. I just moved here a couple months ago and I don’t really leave the house much. Unlike you.”

The ever-attentive listener just nodded along in agreement. While I would normally call bullshit on someone else being as much of a hermit as I had been the past few months, I had already accepted that the strange man next door was anything but normal.

There was something comforting about him, which was hard to say about someone who looked so damn anxious all the time. But there I was, swaddled in his comfortable clothes while his shoulders were damp with snow that clung to unruly brown curls.

And that was the same moment that I realized something terrible.

“You’re basically the only person I know in D.C., and I don’t even know your name.”

I turned to find a contemplative look behind somewhat foggy glasses. There would only need to be a few seconds of silence longer before I wouldn’t be able to recover the embarrassment that was my own audacity.

“Isn’t that sad?” I asked, and he gave the most curious answer.

“Spencer,” he said.

“What?”

“My name is Spencer.”

It suited him. I couldn’t say why, but I knew it had. There was something equally soft about the way it sounded. I mouthed the name, imagining how easily it could roll off the tongue. I was too scared to say it out loud for fear of messing it up — that I wouldn’t say it well enough for the surprisingly bold, peculiar man with mismatched fuzzy socks shoved in slippers on a snow-covered sidewalk.

The same one who was looking at me with a barely put together smile as he chuckled, “Most people would say their name at this point. Unless it actually is Murphy. In which case, I think I’m being rude again.”

Through embarrassment and laughter, I finally offered, “My name is (y/n).”

Spencer responded with… a much more interesting offer.

“Okay, well, (y/n), would you like to come with me to the hotel?”

I’d heard of hearts skipping a beat, but I’d never felt it before that moment. I was half convinced it would stop altogether. Clutching my chest and choking on the word, I managed to ask, “W-What?”

“I know it sounds weird, and I really don’t want to freak you out, but I just really don’t like the idea of you being out here all night,” he explained in a rational, matter-of-fact manner. But behind that awkward monotone was a concern that I desperately wanted to be genuine.

One thing I’d learned about Spencer thus far was that, while he was an oddball, he was a perceptive one. He knew that I was weighing the pros and cons of following a near-stranger to a hotel room in the middle of the night.

And deciding to skip the scales… in some direction, he decided to blurt out, “I promise I’m not a serial killer. I’m actually the exact opposite.”

“What? A mother?”

“Come on,” he drawled, wisely choosing to avoid explanation and instead make more comforting promises. “You don’t even have to sleep. You can leave the door open and the lights on.”

“Oh, if I’m getting in a bed, I will be going to sleep. Even if you’re in it.”

“Oh,” he squeaked before falling suddenly, uncharacteristically silent.

My cheeks started to burn in the absence of his voice, as I had started to develop the sinking feeling that I had said something wrong. The only problem was that I had no idea why what I’d said deserved such a scandalous reaction, considering he was the one inviting me into a hotel room.

So, like a normal person, I asked, “What?”

Spencer cleared his throat, but even that didn’t seem to dislodge the lump in his throat. He tried again.

When that failed, he chose to answer with bright red cheeks and a weak, scratchy voice, “I-I mean… I was going to get two beds.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh!” I said much too loud and accompanied with an awkward, guilty laughter, “I mean, yeah, of course you did. I meant… the room.”

If my ineloquent rambling accomplished anything, it was convincing him that I was most certainly lying. But he must not have minded my perverted tendencies, because he was smirking like the cat that got the canary when he whispered back, “Right.”

“But I would kill for body heat right now, not gonna lie,” I responded to justify my previous — inaccurate — assumption. I’d expected him to return with his own flirtatious banter.

He chose… a different route.

“If you kill them they wouldn’t be very warm. At least not for long.”

“Dude, aren’t you supposed to be convincing me you aren’t a serial killer?”

Spencer just sort of shrugged as if to emphasize his point. And call me crazy, but I couldn’t help but find the whole thing insanely adorable.

Even when he whispered with a sudden shyness, “… Is that a no, then?”

“Ugh. I guess it’s a yes,” I said with a roll of my eyes that strongly contradicted the smile stretched across my cheeks.

Spencer let out a deep, satisfied sigh before he mumbled, “What every guy loves to hear from a pretty girl. A reluctant, begrudging ‘I guess.’”

Despite his words to the contrary, though, he looked downright pleased with himself when his hand found my lower back. Staying as gentlemanly as possible, he guided me through the crowd of our neighbors in the direction of the parking lot.

The silence would’ve been uncomfortable if it hadn’t been for the unending contact. Even when we finally made it to the beat up blue Volvo, he insisted on helping me into the car with hand in frozen hand.

The car roared to life, blasting cold air into the cabin and reminding me just how damp I really was. It strongly contrasted the way my body was burning in the two places he’d touched me, but I couldn’t let him know how fast I’d grown fond of his touch. So, naturally, I did what any girl would do.

I threatened him with violence.

“I will throw myself out of your car if you’re creepy.”

“Duly noted,” he agreed in stride.

I figured that he’d deserved at least a little bit of sympathy, considering I was still cozily settled in his cardigan while the poor thing was a chattering, shivering mess.

At the same time, I cursed him for somehow looking good while puffing hot breath into his closed hands. Those silly grandpa glasses fogged up immediately, but he didn’t let it discourage him from continuing whatever method he could of warming up any small part of him.

Deciding to be a little compassionate, I reached forward and grabbed his hands. He seemed surprised, or at least confused, for a couple seconds. That was, until I began vigorously rubbing my also freezing hands over the top of his. Then, he was just smiling. Beaming, really.

I had to do something to combat the overly affectionate way he was looking at me. Unfortunately, the best thing I could come up with was, “I’m sorry I’m going to make your car all wet.”

“Oh! Right,” he squeaked, not moving his hands from mine but throwing his head towards the backseat as he explained, “I uh, I have extra clothes in the back of my car if you… want to change when we get there.”

And then we were back to square one, with the both of us being way too nice to each other for strangers about to (potentially) share a bed.

Pushing his hands back towards the wheel, I moved my own to the heater now blasting lukewarm arm and pointed out casually, “That will not stop your car from getting wet, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, I can’t ask you to change now,” he drawled sarcastically. He waited until I turned a quirked brow to him before he explained, “You said you would throw yourself out of my car if I was creepy, and I’m pretty sure telling you to strip before I let you in is firmly in ‘creep’ territory.”

“How considerate of you,” I laughed.

For all the oddities about him, there was no denying that Spencer was clever. Cute, too, if I hadn’t made that obvious enough. His stature, held up with horrendous posture, reminded me of someone who would be easy to push around. But that dark undercurrent in his eyes told me the exact opposite.

Always brief, always fleeting — there was a darkness inside of him somewhere. And despite my curious nature, I had no intention of seeing that side of him that night. I was more interested in the more obvious. The compassion of a man who would give his only source of warmth to his dripping, cursing neighbor.

The warmth in hazel eyes was still obscured by the soft layer of fog borne from his cheeks. Now that we were away from the red lights of the fire engine, I could tell that he had been blushing after all.

He was peculiar, but charming. Maybe that explained why, of all the flirting and witty banter, he remembered one thing above all else.

“So you’ve lived here a few months and haven’t made any friends?”

Then, like it always seemed to happen with the two of us, he clarified the possible insult before I could bite his head off.

“I thought that only happened to me.”

“Ha. Yeah, we’re a match made in heaven, apparently,” I sighed.

Once again dedicated to correcting the most obvious of metaphors, he bounced his head back and forth for a second before he broke down and had to say something.

“Or hell, depending on how you look at it,” he decided.

But if he’d wanted to figure out which divine cosmic eternity we would end up in, I was more than happy to help him figure it out.

“I will crash this car,” I deadpanned. The apathetic show earned me a chuckle, which then broke into a more entertained laughter after another moment of silence.

“You’re very violent,” he muttered under his breath.

There was no worry that he’d been put off by the threats, though. If anything, he looked downright enamored with me when his eyes quickly jumped over to see if he’d made me smile.

He had. Arrogant little shit.

“Yeah, you better watch out,” I warned in an attempt not to let things get too chummy.

That time, he was happy to follow my lead.

“You know, I never stopped to ask. Did I agree to room with a serial killer?”

“Yep. And you’re going to pay for it,” I shot back a little too quickly for comfort.

So, I turned to him to reassure him, but he was already looking at me. Not just a glance this time, either — his stare was so full of wonderment that it actually made me choke on the clarification that made its way out, anyway.

“The room, I mean.”

“Of course,” he said with a curious little smile.

He said nothing else. Neither did I. Not because I hadn’t wanted to, but because I couldn’t quiet the butterflies swirling through my chest.

The drive was both regrettably and thankfully brief. Regrettable because I had the feeling that once we were actually in private, we would both lose our nerve. Nonetheless, I was thankful because I was pretty sure if he said one more clever, infuriating thing to me, I was going to jump him in the hotel lobby.

That fear did not wane in the slightest once we were there. The sterile, cookie-cutter lobby left much to be desired, but it was still a more romantic atmosphere than standing outside in the (not-quite) freezing cold. It was also the first opportunity for me to ogle him with impunity, albeit from a distance.

That night wasn’t the first time that I’d noticed him. It wasn’t the first time I’d wanted him, either. There had been many brief meetings that my mind had chosen to fixate on. Many fantasies to be weaved from small smiles and peripheral glances.

But as I watched him glance over at me between the awkward exchanges of information with the front desk, I realized that the reality was very different from the fantasy.

It wasn’t a bad thing. Just different. In fact, when he finally started to make his way back to me, I realized that I preferred this version of him. The real one.

The Spencer that was stumbling over his own words and fumbling even more awkwardly with the two keycards shoved into one envelope.

“So… I have some awkward news. It’s sort of funny, really, if you think about it. Fitting, too, considering the trend of your night—"

“There’s only one bed, isn’t there?”

A stiff, dejected nod was his only answer.

My response, however, was two-fold. With a cluck of my tongue, I shook my head and sighed, “Such a cliché.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whined, almost like he hadn’t realized just how excited the news had made me. He remained solemn and serious as ever while he continued to explain, “I even asked them if they had an extra cot but they just sort of shrugged, which… isn’t a very helpful reply.”

Oh, Spencer, I thought with a dreamy sigh he wouldn’t understand, What am I going to do with you?

“Hey, like I said, I’m sleeping in that bed whether you’re in it or not.”

That odd man continued to fidget but made no meaningful movement. I could see on his face how terrified he’d been that he’d made a number of mistakes to lead him here.

But even with the horrifying, soul-crushing awkwardness that was this situation, I still got the feeling that he had wanted this all as badly as I did. He was just too scared to make it known.

Different from the fantasies.

Better than the fantasies.

“Come on, I’m literally standing in a puddle.”

As I ushered him forward towards the general direction of the elevator, I didn’t hesitate to lock my arm with his. I greedily stole his body heat and bolstered both of our confidence with a boldness that couldn’t be ignored. And despite being drenched, exhausted, and nervous, I smiled.

Because contrary to what he’d believed, my luck was finally starting to turn around.

Despite the chill still emanating from my bones, I almost welcomed the cold porcelain floor of the hotel bathroom. That oxymoronic burn was the only thing keeping me grounded. Even the normally sterile smell of the building was lessened by the comforting aroma of vanilla and cinnamon that seemed soaked into Spencer’s clothing.

I pressed the impossibly soft shirt against my face and refused to feel guilty for it. I let the thought of his kindness and his innocence stoke the flames that had burst from the sparks of his smile. I swaddled myself in the well-loved clothing and imagined a world where this was a regular occurrence, rather than an odd circumstance of combined misfortune.

But just as my fingers began fiddling with buttons, I had a thought. Just the one. Lifting my head to look in the mirror, I saw the opportunity to make something more out of an otherwise pitiful night. There I stood, with his boxers tightly hugging my hips and his shirt resting gently on my shoulders.

Then, with not a single button done and the bare skin of my chest visible, I opened the door.

I didn’t leave at first. I just peeked my head out from the door until I spotted the man. His legs were bouncing so intensely that I could hear the sheets rustling below him. It felt wrong to bother him, but I knew that — if I played my cards right — he would appreciate the distraction.

“Hey Spencer?”

“Yeah?” he answered faster than should be humanly possible. His head turned just as quickly, his eyes landing on me with perfect precision like he’d manifested the moment through sheer force of will.

“Could you help me?” I asked, and he found nothing odd about the request. He’d had no reason to. Not yet.

Not until I stepped out into the light.

“With wh—?”

The poor thing had only barely stood from his seat before he fell back down. His legs, once shaking, were now paralyzed in place. His eyes were also frozen as I’d been a few minutes earlier.

“My fingers are still numb, and the buttons are hard to get,” I explained.

Spencer didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at me with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. When he was able to compel himself to move, to do anything other than ogle a mostly naked woman, he was unsuccessful. His stare merely became affixed on the space above my fingers that loosely held the shirt shut.

Taking his silence as something akin to acceptance, I took a step forward. Then, when he didn’t object, I took another, and another. I didn’t stop until my thighs were resting gently against his knees.

It was then I realized that his legs actually were still moving, just in a different way than before. In fact, his whole body was filled with energy.

That poor, sweet thing was trembling.

“Spencer?” I called.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, sure. I can…” he started with a stumbling tongue and his pitch growing higher with each syllable. “I can help b-button your shirt… which is… my shirt… on you.”

I almost felt bad about it, too. I almost felt bad for torturing him when he’d been nothing but sweet to me. But the rest of me felt something else; something powerful and encouraged by the deep red shade creeping up his neck.

“Thanks!”

To his credit, though, his hands were surprisingly skillful. It took me a second to remember that it had been his shirt, after all. But for all his ability, he seemed to be taking his time. Starting at my stomach, he slowly made his way up to more dangerous territory. I couldn’t blame him for being afraid to touch me there just yet.

Which was why it was particularly odd to me that he hadn’t shrunk away. If anything, he’d grown closer. Then, with one swift and powerful tug on the sides of the shirt, he almost succeeded in pulling me straight onto his lap.

But just before my knees buckled, I caught myself. My arms wrapped around his neck and my hands grabbed the mousy brown curls that were far softer than I ever could’ve imagined.

Soft like his shirt, soft like his eyes, and his smile. Soft like everything about him.

I thought that I’d figured him out, but I had been wrong. Because the next time he spoke, it was quiet, but it was anything but soft.

“Interesting,” was all he’d said.

When he didn’t expand on the thought, it was my turn to be nervous.

Without releasing my hold on him, I made the only sound I felt capable of making and hummed, “Hm?”

His answer came, swift and playful and sending a chill down my spine.

“You lied.”

At the same time as the words hit me, his pointer finger dipped beneath the fabric of the shirt. He dragged his knuckle down my sternum like a dare, and I realized that I’d dramatically underestimated his ability to be something other than soft.

There was something sharp, something dark in his stare when he slowly leaned back against my hands tangled in his hair. He smiled while my heart beat hard enough that I was sure he could feel it against his finger still roaming the bare skin of my chest.

Then, he chuckled, “Your hands aren’t cold at all.”

I had been caught.

But I had not given up.

His words were issued like a dare, and so, I accepted it. Filled with spite and a little bit of embarrassment, I stole back the power by taking his lips with my own. I kissed him and was met with no resistance.

He was every bit as sweet as I’d hoped he would be. Even though his glasses bumped against my nose, I didn’t hate the feeling of cold metal and foggy glass. I welcomed every part of him, including his hands as they left my chest in favor of my waist.

Spencer hoisted me onto him the best he could, but it was never going to be graceful. It was silly and messy and fun the entire time we struggled to find our way to the top of the massive king-sized bed.

We never really made it, either. We made it as far as we’d needed to and abandoned any unnecessary effort. But our ideas of necessary clearly differed. Because as soon as I pulled away from him, his hands were quick to bring me back in for another kiss.

Hot, heavy breath filled the little space between us with a gentle dew that our tongues would forever chase after. His was more adventurous than mine, but I didn’t mind. It was hard to feel anything but lust when he’d begun his descent down my neck. Still, the goosebumps raised, our bodies on high alert from something entirely different from the cold.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. Each time he kissed me, each whimper and moan against my skin felt like fire in my veins. I had to do something to hurry him along because I wasn’t convinced my frozen bones would be able to handle the blaze. I would choke on the steam before we ever got a chance to feel the unique kiss of ice and fire.

I tore myself away despite his insistence. To my surprise, and disappointment, he was more willing to let me go than I’d hoped. Then again, it was hard to be upset when he didn’t let the new position stop him from worshipping whatever was in front of him.

Trying my hardest to ignore the steady line of kisses he was laying down my stomach, I reached for my purse on the bedside table. I was on a mission that I knew he would thank me for later, the same as I would thank him for the cool trail of spit he left behind on heated skin.

As soon as I’d managed to dig the condom from my purse, however, Spencer decided he was also tired of waiting. Boxers be damned, he didn’t let the fabric stop him from wrapping his arms around my hips. Then, with another quick, impossibly powerful motion, he brought my hips down to bury his face between my thighs.

The gasp that he’d elicited was nothing compared to the deep, rolling moan that followed as he puffed hot breath against the flimsy fabric. His lips continued their motions, his tongue still swirling despite the barrier. He paid it no mind because we could both still feel it. The quickly growing dampness that threatened to bring me crumbling down before I’d ever had a chance to even touch him.

As hard as it was, I had to stop him. Exactly like before, he whined as I left him, but he still let me go. I couldn’t help but laugh when I did look down. Spencer’s glasses were crooked and had completely fogged over from the sudden change in temperature as he stayed begging and whimpering between my legs.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest, most pathetic little thing,” I cooed as I reached down to pull his glasses off. I’d done it for no reason other than missing the sight of soft caramel eyes.

But I had not been prepared for what I would find. That dazed, lovesick stare filled with desire for more.

“Please. Please let me,” he begged, all the while pawing at the clothing keeping us apart. He could have pulled the boxers down if he’d tried, but he stubbornly waited for permission. Until then, he continued with his pitiful pleading, “It’s not fair to tease me like that. I want to make you feel good, please.”

The sound was like music to my ears. I had no reservations about my answer.

“By all means,” I sighed happily, “go right on ahead.”

But for the second time that night, I realized that I had underestimated Spencer. His response to permission was as quick and strong as ever. His arms, still wrapped safely around my thighs, exerted even more force to pull me right where he’d wanted me.

I was barely able to follow his instructions fast enough for his liking, but eventually, I fell back onto the bed with a light bounce. Like inertia of the best kind, Spencer jumped up from his spot and tore the boxers — his boxers — down my legs until there was nothing else in his way.

And at first, I just laid there, rubbing my legs together and waiting for him to pry them apart again. But that wasn’t what he’d done. Instead, Spencer grabbed hold of me and used his entire body weight to pull me back on top of him.

It wasn’t until then, when my trembling arms were resting besides his head, that I’d realized what he wanted. His hands, strong and broad across the back of my thighs, he urged me closer.

I obeyed, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be the one in charge. But the eager boy below me was more than happy to give up control. The closer he came to his treasure, the more his body squirmed with energy.

There was still a softness about him. Still something gentle, something sweet in the way he peppered my thighs with light kisses when I was finally close enough to touch. Insistent hands remained on me at all times, although they roamed the space more freely.

It almost felt like he was memorizing each inch of me before he’d moved on to the next. But before I knew it, he was ready. Applying pressure to the small of my back, he pulled me down.

At first, I hesitated. I hovered above his face and I tried to will my body to stop shaking. But the sudden shock of the heat after coming in from the cold made every puff of his breath burn.

One of my hands found his fluffy hair once more. The other, however, sought out the headboard. It would turn out to be the smartest decision I’d made all night, because not soon after I’d grabbed it had he begun.

The same tongue that had been lovingly tracing my folds through clothing returned, this time unimpeded by the fabric. This time, it wasn’t a gasp that escaped, but a sob. I could already feel my stomach knotting and my chest filling with butterflies, and he’d barely touched me.

Because it wasn’t just the physical touch, but the obvious enthusiasm behind it. Although he tried so hard to be gentle, he couldn’t help but grip me tightly. He noticed my fear about crushing him and chose to put an end to the insecurity once and for all. Using all his remaining strength, he pulled me down.

I had no clue how he was able to breathe, but it seemed like the least of his concerns. Even with the crushing force of my weight, he moaned as he laid open-mouthed kisses at the small bundle of nerves at my crest. With his whole body, he urged me to continue on to new levels of pleasure.

He wouldn’t stop until my hips were rocking and my hands were gripping tight enough that I swore I’d splinter the wood. I still tried to give the poor thing room to breathe, but each time there was space between us, he’d close it again. I could feel the bridge of his nose digging against my pubic bone, and every time it would make my legs start to shake again.

It was that enthusiasm, that unadulterated love and worship that would cause me to fall apart. When that tension started to build, I finally allowed myself to follow his obvious direction and let go.

I didn’t bother worrying about him because I knew that he would be alright. I could still feel him, burying his tongue inside of me and lapping at the juices smeared between my legs. I felt that desire, that unending need to please me, and I gave in to his begging.

Spencer welcomed my orgasm with a similar fervor, moaning while he lavished my most sensitive point with all his worship. Even when he’d felt my body relax, he continued. He didn’t even hesitate to start all over again, no matter the fact that I was practically suffocating him. He practically welcomed an end between my thighs.

But I wasn’t done with him yet. I was only getting started.

Somehow, I managed to gather enough effort to pry his hands off my hips and throw myself off him. Still, he once again whimpered at the loss. I turned to him as soon as I could, happy to catch a sated smile between each attempt he made to taste me again. He wiped his face clean, but still carefully cleaned each finger between his heavy breaths.

Our eyes met again during his shameless indulgence, and his smile grew wider at the sight. He inched closer, his lips seeking mine for a kiss far more tender than the kind I quickly growing used to.

Again, I gave into his begging. I kissed him back and tasted myself on his tongue. The heady, intoxicating scent of me on his skin made the throbbing ache between my legs even more obvious. And for the first time, I allowed myself a chance to consider the bulge in his pants.

I pressed my thigh hard against him until I heard him squeak. I continued to grind my leg until he moved — a gentle thrust against my leg that demonstrated exactly what I’d needed to know.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered the second he’d opened his eyes.

He’d already started before the words had even left my mouth. I watched with rapt fascination at how his hands were still quick and his eyes were still burning, still sticking to me like soft caramel and the cinnamon he smelled of.

I was so distracted by the way he looked in the dim, golden light, that I’d almost forgotten the second order I had. Once his pants were off, I floundered until I found the foil wrapper I’d dropped on the bed during his pleading. I held it up with two fingers, and issued another simple order.

“Put this on.”

His answer was not what I was expecting. Not a no, but certainly not an answer as enthusiastic as I’d been hoping for.

It was a fucking tease.

“You really think you can keep going?” he chuckled.

And despite the way exasperated chuckles floated between my words, it was no laughing matter.

“Oh, you did not just say that,” I gasped.

If it had been his intention to encourage me back into power, it had worked. That competitive spirit reared its head again. I drew from every reserve left in me and I climbed atop him again. This time, I also permitted myself the opportunity to ogle him as shamelessly as he’d done to me.

But I still found myself fixated on his eyes, which were in turn following each line of my body. His hands that had been busy searching my skin for some unknown answer were still there, gently running fingertips and knuckles anywhere that he hadn’t felt yet. He sought out the shivers and goosebumps until I caught his hand in mine.

Then, he looked up at me. Again, he smiled something soft.

“Spencer, believe me when I say that I intend on paying you back for that ride,” I assured him, but he was still not taking it seriously.

“Which one?” he snickered, instead.

I stopped trying to hide my laughter. I just leaned into it, leaned forward until I was close enough to feel dewy breath on my lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered without doing what he’d so obviously wanted. Even when he tried to chase after my lips, I refused.

That frustration eventually came to be too much for the pathetic boy’s heart, and in a moment of weakness, he issued a dare he wasn’t ready for.

“Make me.”

“Oh, Spencer,” I whispered with a low voice laced with a promise, “Nothing would make me happier than to render you totally and completely speechless.”

To prove my point, I knew exactly what I’d needed to do. Reaching a hand down, I wrapped one firmly around his dick. The slippery latex aided me in slow, strong strokes down his length. And immediately, any hint of opposition left him.

“Not so bratty now, huh?” I teased.

His lungs emptied with a broken sob that turned into a drawn out whine. It still sounded as beautiful as ever, and I found myself seeking out those sounds with a newfound vigor. The energy and color returned to him, too. His cheeks began to flush from pink to scarlet. I wanted to paint him with every color I could, but I would need my hands to do just that.

Slowly, and with utmost care, I began to lower onto him. All the while, I made sure that his half-lidded eyes stayed locked on mine. I didn’t want to risk missing the moment when the head of his cock breached my entrance. I wanted to watch those sweet brown eyes roll back and his sneaky, devilish tongue peek from between his lips as he tried to stop himself from finishing so soon.

“Tell me how it feels,” I whispered. I should’ve known better than to dare the man to speak, but I’d missed his voice too much to be upset by the sound of it.

Especially when he was still panting when he blubbered, “Y-You feel even better than you taste.”

Then, continuing the trends from earlier in the night, he dug his fingers into my hips and dragged them down as he begged, “Please. Please, fuck me.”

It was such a sweet, humble request that I’d felt compelled to follow it. I spared him the torture of anticipation and dropped my weight on him once again. This time, it wasn’t his tongue, but something much more appealing that was buried between slick folds. The wet heat still felt like steam and fire, even though my body wasn’t cold anymore. Nonetheless, I threw myself into the fire without hesitation. My hips would rise, and his would follow.

In an effort to get him to relax the same as he’d done for me, I pressed two hands against his chest and sat up straighter. Immediately, his eyes lit up with an adorable adoration that would quickly fade when he’d realized my plans.

I had wanted to paint him with as many colors as possible. That was why I drew crescent marks into his chest with my nails. Spencer didn’t protest, and in fact thrust into me harder in response. He urged me on with eyes and body alike. So, using my nails like brushes, I drew angry welts on an empty canvas until I could make something out of the mess of pink and red.

“Fuck!” he shouted when he couldn’t keep it in any longer. The exclamation was quickly followed by whimpers that strongly contrasted the filthy sounds between us.

He’d sounded so pitiful that I couldn’t help myself from drawing it out. The next time my hips fell, I stayed with him fully inside me. Grinding down with wide circles, I used some of the same fingers that had tried to draw blood to do something else. Something soft.

I traced bulging veins across his temple. I followed the sharp angles of his jaw all the way down to his neck. There, I pressed the pads of my fingers against his pulse and felt how it shifted the longer my palm was pressed against his throat.

But even through that pressure and delirium, he managed to croak, “You’re so amazing.”

And although I’d been satisfied by the praise, which had no hint of brattiness left, I’d still held a grudge for his earlier flippancy. I wanted to torture him the same way he’d tortured me with kindness and quiet longing. Because if I hadn’t made a move, who knows what we would have done that night instead?

I had a feeling we always would have ended up there, though. That was why I giggled when I asked, “Is that why you wanted to get me alone?”

“Please,” he whimpered in response.

“You were hoping that I would let you touch me?” I taunted before immediately beginning to lift my hips. The cool air tickled at the burning heat between us, and I felt every muscle in his body tense as he tried not to chase me.

He stayed put, like a good boy, gripping the sheets like a vice and throwing his head back to bare his throat to me once more.

“Please, let me,” he blubbered. I could barely understand him through the begging that seemed never-ending.

“Please,” he said, “Please.”

I dragged it out just a few minutes longer. I listened to the song-like quality of his desperation and rejoiced in the feeling of him filling the empty space between my thighs.

But eventually I missed the sweetness of his lips. I leaned forward until our lips collided together, sloppy, imprecise and entirely perfect. My exhausted arms shook, but still found the energy to slip under his pillow.

His hands didn’t hesitate for even a second. He welcomed me into the fiery embrace and buried his face in my shoulder. Even his hips had stopped. All his attention was focused on the simple task of holding me until I gave into his pleading one more time.

“Go ahead, pretty boy,” I whispered in his ear.

That elusive, ever-shocking strength brought us together again. Although, it felt different that time. The enthusiasm remained, but so did the softness. Even when I called his name, he quieted me with a kiss that was gentle enough to make goosebumps ripple over my skin.

“Spencer,” I whined when he began fucking into me hard enough that I could hear the headboard knock against the wall. But he was too focused, too enthralled with the power and the possibilities that he barely registered his name on my tongue.

“Spencer,” I said louder.

That time, he’d heard me, but it had done nothing to dissuade him. In fact, he went harder, seeking out that sound again and again and again.

I gave it to him, over and over, each time he forced himself to the hilt and held me down against him. I focused on nothing but the feeling of being full of him. The friction of sweat slicked bodies that never got enough of each other.

“I’m…” he struggled, the words breaking with gasping breath, “I’m gonna…”

We didn’t need the words to know what was coming. We could feel the steady beating of hard working hearts as they echoed in our bones. His hands kept me steady, kept me with him as his hips continued. It was my turn to find shelter in him, to press soft kisses against his neck until we were both ready. We both held on until I gave him the permission he sought.

“Do it,” I begged, “Come for me.”

I’d said it just in time to feel him twitching from deep inside of me. Despite the latex between us, I still felt the heat of him grow until I joined him in the euphoria. My arms pulled myself closer and a moan poured from my chest until it rumbled against his neck.

Although I couldn’t look him in the eyes as he came undone, I had no regrets. I basked in his warmth, treasuring these few moments where I got to feel the comfort of his embrace. In that quiet moment, I realized that it had been so long since I’d felt at home with someone like that.

So, I clung to him the same as the soaked clothes when we first spoke and I hoped that he wouldn’t want to discard me as quickly. But in the end, it was me that climbed off of him. I grabbed his glasses before I’d crushed them under my weight and I wiped the foggy lenses clean before I turned to the man half-asleep beside me.

“Hey Spencer?” I slurred.

He turned to look at me, and his eyes still burned with something pure, something innocent. Something soft as the hands that reached out to take his glasses.

“Thanks,” he mumbled with a laugh.

“You’re welcome,” I sighed. And although I was a coward, and my breath had barely evened out again, I felt compelled to explain to him the real reason I’d abandoned his embrace.

“Hey Spencer?” I called again, only to find that he was still staring at me, albeit now with more clarity.

“What?”

He’d said it so innocently that I couldn’t help but laugh. Because at that moment, I realized two things. One was that I really needed to stop underestimating that strange, soft, pathetic thing. And the other was best shared with an incredulous laughter at our luck of finding each other on such a cold night.

With a dramatic groan, I shouted, “It’s so fucking hot in here!”

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