#I WILL DRAW HIM DOING ANYTHING FOR YOUR VOTE I BEG

[lennardd]

oh whoops (drops this) ahaha imagine you voted for him I think he would be very happy I think

[dirtywrestling]

Forever in His Debt - Drew McIntyre (18+)

Commission: @tokipanda68

Pairing: Mobster!Drew McIntyre x Melody 

Summary: Melody’s father owes money to the mafia. He can’t afford to pay them back so Drew takes what he wants. 

Warnings: 18+, Kidnapping? Mafia, Cussing, Mentions of gambling and drinking, Smut, Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,193

Follow My Backup Blog!: @dirtywresling102

“Please, Drew- Mr. McIntyre, I’ll get you the money. I swear!” The small round man begged. Drew ignored every word that was coming out of his mouth. He’s had people like this before, borrowing money for whatever reason and not being able to pay the mafia back. Drew looked around the small house, it was pretty obvious that there was nothing valuable here that would cover the debt that this man dug himself in. 

“You see, when you borrowed money from me, from my mob I expect you to pay me back and on time.” Drew’s eyes were cold as he looked at the man. He knew this man’s gambling troubles and drinking so it was no surprise that the banks turned him down for a loan. Drew clicked his tongue, eyeing around the house, his goons behind him, their guns loaded. Of course no guns were out just in case there were children. Drew wasn’t that heartless, he did violent things, he was a fucking mobster for Christ sakes but he knew when to draw the line if children were involved.

Parents were smart to tell their children about the mafia as a scary story before bedtime. So arriving here and if there were children, they knew better than to do anything stupid. Drew’s hazel eyes scanned over the shelf, soon stopping to see a picture frame. ‘Oh, what’s this?’ Drew thought to himself, arching his eyebrow to see the man that borrowed money from him and a stunning girl who was no older than sixteen. Drew was shocked by her beauty in the picture. Tearing his attention away from the picture he looked around the house once more. There were pictures of her all on the wall now that he noticed, he stopped looking for anything valuable. “Is this your daughter?” Drew asked, pointing to a picture. 

Steve- the man who was in debt quickly nodded his head. “Yes, she just turned sixteen.” He swallowed thickly. “Her name is Melody.” Steve spoke, rubbing his knuckles nervously.

Drew licked his lips seductively. “Melody.” Drew whispered, the way her name rolled off his tongue made him shiver. 

Steve didn’t miss the way Drew licked his lips. “Please, Mr. McIntyre, she’s all I have.” 

“Let’s make a deal.” Drew spoke, ignoring Steve. “If you don’t have my money by the time Melody is legal age I will take her and we can forget about you being in the negatives with me.” Drew straightened his tie, brushing his sleeves. 

“I- I.” Steve didn’t know what to say, it was a hell of a deal and it was extremely hard to make deals with the leader of the mafia. “Are we talking about voting age or drinking age?” 

Coming home after a long day of college was the best part of the day, especially on my birthday. Pushing the key into the lock I twisted it, surprised that the door wasn’t locked I swung the front door open. “I’m home!” I hollered, taking my bag off of my shoulders. I placed it on the floor by the door. I tossed my keys onto the nearest table. “Hello?” I asked, it was too quiet in the house. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen or smell. No sign that my mother was cooking my favorite meal, we were probably going out to eat. 

Entering the kitchen I saw my parents sitting in chairs and two large men in suits behind them. “What’s going on?” I asked, instantly noticing the tears streaming down my mother’s cheeks. 

My father finally spoke up. “Honey, you’re going to go away for a while.” He wouldn’t dare meet my gaze. 

“Away?” I asked, this was a weird birthday present. “Uh why?” My eyes darted towards the two strangers standing over my parents. 

My mother let out a sob, her hands coming over her face. “What’s going on?” I asked, this wasn’t what I was expecting for my eighteenth birthday. “You guys are scaring me.” 

“Honey, you know how your father has a problem. He did something unspeakable and without my permission or knowledge.” She hiccuped.

I was growing angry as they beat around the bush and wouldn’t spit it out already. Taking a step backwards to run up to my room, my back collided with a larger figure. “Hello, love.” A male’s Scottish accent hit my ears. “The name is Drew.” Spinning around I looked up at the tall man. I noticed how Drew’s hazel eyes darken as he looked at me. “Pretty young thing you are.” He whispered so only I could hear him. 

I blinked at his comment, “Oh hell no.” I instantly knew what was going on as my eyes looked down at the gun tucked away in his waist. With my father’s financial problems and the way this man dressed and looked how he had money. Realizing who Drew was, I whipped my head around, glaring at my father. “You did not fucking pimp me out.” I snarled. 

Drew laughed loudly at my assumption. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. “Oh on the contrary, doll.” Drew bent down low, his lips near my ear. “You see, your daddy borrowed money from me and we made a deal two years ago on how if he doesn’t pay me back that you’ll mine at legal age.” 

“You bastard!” I screamed at him, tears threatening to spill but I tried holding them back. 

“Shh, love. He’s not worth it.” Drew placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from the kitchen and down the hallway towards my room. “I’ll give you ten mintues to pack up and we’re leaving for good.” Drew’s voice was giving off a warning sound as if saying ‘don’t do anything stupid’. Nodding I turned around, entering my room and slamming it shut. Tears streamed down my face as I realized what was happening. My father sold my life because he was in debt. 

Quickly gather clothes and other things I could think of and shove it into my bag. Opening the door I stormed out, slightly jumping to see Drew leaning against the wall. “You’re already done?” He asked. Nodding, I walked past him. “That was only like three minutes.” Drew checked his watch that was wrapped around his wrist, arching his eyebrow.

“Just get me the fuck out of here.” I demanded, not even thinking what Drew’s plans with me were. 

“Melody, wait.” My mother sobbed out, trying to get my attention before I left the house. Ignoring her pleas and cries I stepped out of the house. I didn’t even notice the large black SUV with tinted windows until now. 

“Right this way, love.” Drew placed his large hand on my lower back and guided me to the vehicle. Drew reached his free hand and opened the door. Climbing in, I scooted to the farthest seat, my attention towards the window. 

“I’ll pay him back sweetheart, don’t you worry!” Was all I heard my father yell. 

My eyes were everywhere in the large house that Drew was guiding me through. I looked at all of the expensive and unique paintings hanging on the wall, large soft rugs stretched on the marble floor. I was so distracted, I wasn’t even paying attention to his words. “And this is your room.” Drew pushed open the door. The bedroom walls were dipping in my favorite color along with the covers on the bed. It was much larger than the room I had back at home. Drew took my things from me as I explored the room, there was a large bathroom connected to my room. 

As I walked back into my room, I saw Drew searching through my things. “What are you doing?” I asked. He tossed my clothes around until he found what he was looking for, my laptop. 

“Don’t need this.” He flashed the only nice thing I had in my life.

“Hey- wait no! I need it for class.” I frowned, trying to reach it but he raised it higher for me not to grab. Damn his tallness.

“I can’t have you blabbing about my secrets now, love.” Drew informed me, raising it higher as I tried to climb on his large form.

“I won’t, I promise!” I begged, my eyes looking back at the laptop. 

Drew grabbed my chin, the pad of his thumb rubbed against my cheek. “Sleep now, love. You’ve had a busy day.” He whispered. Brushing his thumb over my plump bottom lip his eyes looked at my mouth and back up at my eyes. He leaned downwards, his soft lips pressing against mine, leaving a small kiss. I didn’t even know if I kissed back or not I was too shocked. Pulling away he licked his lips as if he was getting the rest of my taste off of his mouth. “Rest, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Drew promised. With that he turned on the heel of his nice black dress shoes and left my room. 

That night I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was being in a new environment, the fact that I’ll probably never see my mother again or it was the memorizing kiss Drew planted on me before he left. Laying in bed, I stared at the white ceiling above me. The kiss kept playing in my head, over and over again. Squirming underneath the blankets I froze, I was getting wet from the event that happened hours ago. Swallowing thickly, I ran my dominant hand down my body. Shivering from my own touch I exhaled shallowly as I reached my soaking entrance. 

A soft whimper escaped my lips as I touched my sensitive clit. How could I get wet at the thought of kissing my kidnapper, a total stranger to me! Tossing my head back into the soft plush pillows as my index finger entered me. My tightness wrapped around the single digit. Slowly pushing and pulling my finger in and out of my pussy, I slowly sped up the pace. Flashes of Drew filled my head, how he towered over me, how built he was. His suit stretched as his muscles flexed with each movement he made. Remembering how his eyes looked at me over everything I did. 

My pussy clenched around my finger, I was close. Panting heavily, I used my other hand to play with my clit. The last memory I had with Drew struck my mind. His lips soft against mine, how they moved against me and held me close to his large body. My orgasm hit in an instant, the hand that was playing with my clit flew up to my mouth, muffling my moans as I overcame my climax. 

Panting, I slowly pulled my finger out and laid in bed, calming myself down. Once I came down from my high I pulled the blankets off my sweaty body. Rolling out of bed, I decided to roam the empty halls. Slowly opening my door, I peaked my head out looking up and down the dark hallway. Seeing no one about, I slipped out of my room. The large house seemed a bit spookier with no lights on. 

My feet pitter pattered down the hallway on the cold marble floor, I slightly cursed at myself for not wearing socks. Making a right turn I ended up in the kitchen. My stomach growled, realizing I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. Then again how could I eat after all of the events that happened. Walking towards the fridge, I open the door. Squinting as the bright light inside blinded me, I looked at all of the options. I’ve never had this amount of food to pick, we didn’t have much back at my house. Grabbing a water bottle and a container of strawberries, I turned around and jumped at the figure behind me. “Can’t sleep?” His soothing accent filled the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and hitting my ears. 

“No.” I murmured, moving past him and placing my small snack on the counter. Opening the water I took a few gulps.

“Well, sounds like to me you were having a nightmare.” A slight smirk appeared on his face as I choked.  Drew walked closer to me, nearly hovering as his lips grazed my ear. “My room is next to yours and the walls are very thin.” Shivering at his deep voice I finally had the courage to look up at him. “Tell me, bana-phrionnsa” he placed his large hand underneath my chin. “What made you moan ever so sweetly, hmm?” Drew asked, eyeing my appearance. “And don’t lie, I know the sounds of a naughty girl masturbating when I hear one.”

My face became bright red, I nearly forgot how to speak as he made my body tremble just by the way he was speaking. “I- I…” My mouth became dry even though I just drank the cold liquid. Swallowing my nervousness. “What does b- bana-” Before I botched the word Drew chuckled deeply and cut me off. 

“Bana-phrionnsa, means princess in my country.” He stroked his soft finger against my cheek. “You’re my bana-phrionnsa.” He hummed, leaning down he pressed his forehead against mine. “Do you like it when I call you my bana-phrionnsa?” 

I had no words, he was speaking so sweet to me. Even though I knew what and who he was I couldn’t help but to eat up his words. I nodded, not wanting to embarrass myself. I saved my words. 

“So tell me, what made you moan so loudly tonight?” He questioned, pulling his head away. He wasn’t going to give up on this question.

“You, I was thinking about you.” I breathed out. 

Drew smiled as I finally admitted it and stopped dodging his question. “Is that so?” He licked his lips. His muscular arm pushed the bottle of water and container of strawberries off of the counter, making them fall onto the floor. He gripped my waist, picking me up and placing me on the cold, smooth surface of the counter top. “And what were you thinking about me?” He growled, eyes darkening slightly. Drew leaned into me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. 

“Please don’t make me say it.” I whined, embarrassed. I cried out in pleasure as Drew bit down on my flesh where my neck and shoulder met, his warm hand slipped underneath my shirt, cupping my breast. 

Suckling hard, Drew pulled away from the dark hickey he left. ��Say it.” He pinched and tweaked at my nipple. 

“You fucking me! I thought about you thrusting your cock in me.” I moaned as he switched onto my other breast. 

“Hmm, good girl.” Drew whispered huskily. He pulled his hand out from under my shirt which made me whimper from the loss of contact. Drew gripped the bottom of my night shirt, tossing it over my head he threw it behind him. His eyes darkened at the sight of my bare chest, his 

hazel eyes scanned over my half naked body. “Stunning.” He hummed, leaning down he latched his mouth around my left nipple. Suckling and lightly biting, his hand started to play with my right breasts. 

Tossing my head back, I moaned in pure bliss. My hands gripped at his long dark hair, giving it a slight tug. Drew pulled away slightly from my chest, soft moans left his mouth from my actions. He left a kiss trail as he made his way to my other breast. Doing the same thing, sucking and flicking his tongue over my hardening nipple, I grew wetter in my panties. 

Drew pulled away from my tender chest, he grabbed his dark shirt and pulled it over his head. My eyes traveled over his body, his biceps flexed as he tossed his shirt to the side, chest strong along with his chiseled abs across his stomach. He obviously never misses a day at the gym. Drew grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. His fingers dipped in the hem of my pajama pants, pulling them down my legs along with my panties. I shivered slightly as the cold countertop touched my bare ass. 

“Oh my sweet, Melody.” Drew’s husky voice rang in my ear. Looking up at him, I caught him licking his lips. “I don’t know whether to eat you out or fuck you full of my come.” Drew chewed on the inside of his cheek as if he was making a decision. 

My heart hammered against my chest, no man had ever shown how much he wanted me before. Growing the courage, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. “You can eat me out whenever I need you.” I pouted, my eyes glossy as I looked over his features. As if he couldn’t believe the mouth I had on me. 

“Whatever my bana-phrionnsa wants.” Drew smiled. His large hands left my waist and started to push his pants and boxers down his muscular legs. My eyes widen slightly at the sight of his large cock twitching against his lower fit stomach. He grabbed underneath my chin, lifting my attention to his face. “It’ll fit.” Drew smirked, my reaction to his cock must have been concerning. 

Drew placed his hands on top of my thighs. Drew had surprisingly soft hands for being a killer. I wondered how many people he’s killed, if not him how many people he’s ordered to have killed. Knowing he’s in the mob life he’s broken the law many times, not only killing being on top of the list. Being a mobster also had perks, money, cars and women. Swallowing thickly, my mind thought about his sex life, how many women has he fucked? As I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize Drew spread my legs and dipped two of his fingers into my dripping cunt. “Ah!” I squealed in surprise as he slowly pulled out. He brought his glistening finger to his mouth. Wrapping his lips around his finger, he sucked off my juices. “Hmm.” He growled, slowly pulling his digits out of his mouth. “Taste so fucking devine.” He purred. “You sure you don’t want me to eat you out?” Drew teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

“I’m sure, now please fuck me.” I begged, my legs still spread. My juices dripped down onto the surface of the counter. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely.” Drew fitted in between my thighs, he grabbed underneath my knees and wrapped my legs around his waist. His raging cock throbbing with need. Drew grabbed the base of his cock, pumping his dick a few times in his hand. Guiding his mushroom tip against my entrance he slowly pushed in me. My hands grabbed at his swole shoulders, digging my nails into his tan flesh. 

“Fuck.” Drew hissed out, not just because of the stinging pain in his shoulders, but my pussy wrapped so tightly around his tip. Drew slowly pushed his hips against mine, his cock sinking inside of my cunt. 

“K- Keep going, don’t stop.” I moaned, resting my head against his slightly hairy chest, my eyes shut tightly. He didn’t stop one beat as his cock slowly inched his way deeper. 

Drew exhaled loudly, now balls deep inside of me. He growled lowly as my pussy fluttered around his cock. “I need to move.” His hands resting on my waist. 

My head snapped up, my eyes full of lust. “Then fucking move.” I demanded. Drew flashed a devilish smirk towards me, showing his white teeth. Pulling his cock half way out of me, he thrust back inside. I whimpered as his rigid cock hit a different angle this time. 

“So fucking tight.” Drew huffed a low howl as he kept thrusting. Drew looked down, watching his glistening cock fuck in and out of his lovers pussy. Drew looked at me, watching my face twist in bliss and pleasure, he couldn’t help but smile. “I can tell you’re close, bana-phrionnsa.” Drew dug his fingers into her hips, leaving bruises. “Hold it for me, Melody. Just a little longer.” Drew announced as his cock slipped in and out at a faster pace than before. 

The kitchen was full of hot sex sounds, moans and whimpering along with dirty talking and skin slapping against skin. The wetness of my pussy squelched with each thrust Drew did, making me blush. “I- I can’t hold on much longer.” I warned, my stomach tightening with each thrust Drew pushed into me. Everything Drew was doing made my body hot and bothered. His touches, the way he’d angle his cock differently with each thrust. Drew leaned down, his heavy breathing hitting my ear. 

“Be a good girl and wait.” He growled, his lips latching onto my neck, suckling hard he growled as he left hickies. I gritted my teeth slightly as my orgasm became closer and closer as Drew fucked me faster and harder. 

“I- I can’t hold it!” I cried out, hot tears slid down my cheeks as I held my orgasm back. Feeling Drew’s cock twitch inside my walls, I nearly exploded. 

“Come, fucking come all over my cock Melody.” Drew demanded, his heavy balls emptying his seed inside of me. Feeling his warm come enter my body, triggered my climax. My eyes fluttered shut as my body shook from the intenseness. Screaming out Drews name, I raked my nails down his arm, leaving marks. Drew hissed at the slight pain, pumping his cock a few more times in me, pusing his load deeper.

As we came down from our high and caught our breaths, Drew rested his sweaty forehead against my shoulder. The scottish mobster mumbled something I didn’t catch. “W- What?” I asked slightly out of breath. 

He brought his head up, repeating what he said. “Marry me.” Drew looked down at me as if he was staring into my soul.

“Marry you?” I choked out, this man took me from my family because of my father’s debt. “I… “ I looked away from him. “I don’t know what to say.” I mumbled, looking at the shiny floor, it must have been cleaned earlier today. 

“Say yes.” Drew spoke softly, grabbing my jaw and making me look at him. “You’re all I’ve ever thought about.” Drew confessed. “I visited your father when you were a minor, warning him about his debt. Melody, your father had two years to pay me back and he never did, I took you away from that abuse. I saw your phone on the shelf and I fell in love with you.” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “I had plans for you.” Drew looked down, his soft cock still in me.

Two and two clicked, my eyes widened as I realized he wasn’t wearing protection. “You had planned to get me pregnant?” I swallowed thickly. 

“I mean, this wasn’t planned.” Drew cleared his throat. “I was planning on taking you on our wedding night but hearing you moaning in your room I couldn’t stop myself.” Drew was still caressing my face. “I’ll make a deal with you.” 

“Yeah, like you did with my dad?” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my breasts, trying to hide myself. 

“Don’t be like that.” Drew warned, he gave me a slight glare. It was best to keep business and relationship problems separate. “If you marry me, you can see your family whenever you want.” Drew promised. 

Biting my lower lip, I thought about it. Marrying a handsome Scottish mobster that was also great at sex along with seeing my family or don’t marry him and he could possibly do the worst to me. Biting my cheek I weighed my pros and cons. 

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Yes.” I quickly said, meeting his eyes. Drew blinked as if he didn’t understand. 

“What?” He questioned.

I smiled softly at his confusion, I played with the tips of his hair flowing over his shoulder. “I said yes.” 

“You sure you don’t want to think-”

I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes to him wanting to be respectful and wanting me to think about my answer. “I said yes, I want to marry you. Now, where’s my ring?” I giggled.

Drew McIntryre's Masterlist

[vote-gaara]

This is neither here nor there but I love the idea of gaara being super into music but *solely* to have deep thoughts about the lyrics while almost disregarding the music itself entirely. mcr famous last words 'I am not afraid to keep on living/ I am not afraid to walk this world alone' 🤔 wow just like when I spoke to kankuro. carly rae jepsen call me maybe 'before you came into my life I missed you so bad' 🤔 the depth of yearning for a precious thing missing from your life that you dont even realise you're missing. billy joel piano man 'they're sharing a drink they call loneliness/ but it's better than drinking alone' 🤔 the pain of loneliness leads one to seek companionship in the most unlikely of places. Do you see my vision

Thank you for this ask as it has allowed me to consider aspects of Gaara I would've never thought of.

Mostly, I think Gaara is a little...hmmm....BORING! But then again, I don't think that's true, either. Let me explain:

I don't think that, according to his "default", he has appreciation for things like music, art, fiction or movies. Likely this is the result of how he was raised in isolation, where the feelings conjured by artists eluded him because he couldn't relate to the characters nor appreciate the source the story came from. This habit of disregarding things that weren't "more serious" or "relevant" to his everyday life then carried over to his current self, as since becoming Kazekage, he really has no time to partake in leisure (but very necessary) practices like experiencing art.

Now here's where the complexity of Gaara's character really comes into play:

I believe, wholeheartedly, that Gaara would actually make a FANTASTIC artist, and that he could learn to be moved through art with the right guidance and proding.

Gaara has poor art literacy. He doesn't see a movie or read a book to explore themes; rather he sees them as very objective plot lines such as "first A happened, then B, then C, then it ends."

Basically, Gaara can parse through a story for information but he needs to work on tapping into his empathy for characters that may not exist.

I guarantee that if you get this man into a book club, he would show up to the second or third meeting after reading a few chapters and he would be BLOWN AWAY by what other people had observed; the emotion, the themes, the ambiguity, the subtle things he missed because he wasn't reading the book "correctly."

It would be a borderline religious experience for him, I swear to you.

Even with music, as you suggest. Gaara would see it as "noise" but you get him to really think about what emotion in conjures - what power can be moved through lyrics - and suddenly his mind would be completely and totally blown. Especially if you get him with the symbolism of different instruments. He would suddenly see it as a language that he didn't even know existed (which he would find really cool)!

As I said before, he would probably make a really great artist himself. If you sit him down and you tell him to paint, draw, sculpt, or even write a poem about his life you would get something very moving and powerful. The type of art that brings you to your knees. But alas, he wouldn't really be moved by his own piece, either. Sure, it would be lightly therapeutic for him to have created something from his soul, but it would seem almost mundane to him.

Any art he creates he would see as just being a reflection of his life - or at least how he would see it - and it wouldn't mean anything to him passed "this is what happened to me, and it hurt, but things are better and the world is a better place."

Which begs the question:

Is Gaara really artistically illiterate? Or has he experienced so much in his life that anything that would move the masses, emotionally destroy you or me, simply be too elementary to him?

Either way...I vote that you drag him to concerts and plays, and you share music with him. At the very least, he would (as his current self) appreciate the bonding moment.

[good-beans]

1, 2, 10 for Haruka and 3, 4, 12 for Muu, if you don't mind ♡

Ahh thank you so much!! Love them ;----;

1. favorite song lyrics?

I’m between two:

You praised me by saying “You’re crazy.”/Thank you, I’ll do my best

First of all it’s just such a telling line that drives home how the (negative) attention he was receiving only encouraged him to do more harm, and really puts his situation into perspective. It’s also a common painful neurodivergent experience to not realize you’re being bullied/criticized, and really makes my heart ache for him…

But I’m always incredibly insane about the entire “mama, look” section. There’s something so heartbreaking about him crying out to her in pride and desperately imagining her kind response. Plus I love wordplay!!! The Muu pun is very cool. Not to mention Shun Horie ripping my heart out and stomping on it when he performed live…

2. favorite mv moment/frame?

This expression combined with the “ah” makes for such a perfect and painful emotion – even though he’s shown bloody and dangerous, the moment manages to paint him more distressed than anything :( It really got me when I first watched it, and still can get me emotional now.

10. is the answer to the previous question different from your vote(s) on the character themselves (do you vote them based on anything else aside from the crime)?

I do forgive his crime, and I would have voted accordingly :’) I joined right before INMF so I missed both his voting periods so far, but I both forgive him and want him to be safe ;-----; Yamanaka please… I beg you…

3. favorite non-mv official illustration?

I really like her door art!! She looks so pretty and confident and just a lil sneaky but that’s what she deserves! I also just love whenever they draw her with chubby lil cheeks in the minigrams… WAIT I forgot the karaoke art -- I love her in that one too!!

4. favorite minigram episode/moment?

Speaking of, I love this one where she refuses to go on the walk but then immediately gets jealous – it’s such a mood and I love her little “muu” pouting adsfsdf. Another big mood is her imagining herself as a sad wet little dog when facing someone intimidating LMAO I think of this panel all the time 😂 (eng versions from thinkin-bout-milgram)

12. what do you wish would be discussed more often about them in the fandom?

That she is just as needy/easy to be manipulated as Haruka! :( It’s hard enough to get people to realize she’s not really doing any malicious manipulating, so it never gets around to any discussion about how she’s equally starved for attention and love. Even though it seems like she’s had friends and he hasn’t, they’ve had the same trouble with connecting to others. They both have no clue what a healthy friendship looks like, and they’re doing their best! Like Kotoko, I think people fall for the front she puts up that hides how much she really doesn’t have her shit together inside :( Someone give her a hug!

[burning-sol]

REASONS TO VOTE ME COUNCILBLR WEIRDO!!!!!! @councilblr-voting-rights

1. Spoiled milk posting 1a. Spoiled milk gif set 1b. Gillion fitties spoiled milk

2. Charlie Dykecicle edited to be on a date w/ you 2a. Sent Grizzly an ask with the edit attached and the caption "POV: you're on a date with Dyke Charlie Slimecicle. Thoughts?"

3. Exandroth's number 1 fan. 3a-1. Set up the @exandrothinadresseveryday blog with the intention of drawing Exandroth is a day everyday until he came back for a Just Roll What If. 3a-2. This included me drawing Exandroth in a cat maid outfit. 3a-3 Despite being currently on break I drew Exandroth in a dress propaganda for the JRWI girlfriend bracket. 3a-4. The propaganda for said bracket got so intense the slogan became "KILL KIAN STONE" as the Exandroth fans hunted him down for revenge. 3b. Founder of @exandrothexanonymous a support group for Exandroth fans (*AHEM* WHICH YOU SHOULD JOIN IF YOU'RE AN EXANDROTH FAN PLEASE...)

4. Invented Eldritchstrings 4a. Drew Eldritchstrings making out during the JRWItwt JRWIblr fued.

5. Declared Exandroth a bottom. 5a. Declared Exandroth a bottom who could not reciprocate sex because she is not bothered. 5b. "Exandroth could suck no one silly" "The only head game he got was when he made that decapitated head relive their dying moments on repeat." 5c-1. Canonical Exandroth x Rumi sex exists and is relevant to Exandroth's character 5c-2. Eldritchstrings sex REAL

6. One time could not spell the world "agenda" and confused my mutuals as I repeatedly and with increasing distress typed "AGENDER" in several reblogs. No this was not autocorrect, I was physically typing this every time and could not stop my hands.

7. Having once said that I would punch a Council member if they approached me, I am the only user (as far as I'm aware) who got a comment on a post from Condifiction on the blog condiforreal. It was weeks(?) after this incident happened that Condifiction confirmed the blog was his sending me into hysteria. 7a. This begs the question of if he has seen the dress a day blog (if you thought Charlie Dykecicle in Grizzly's inbox was bad...)

8. Have you seen my pinned. 8a. The reviews are in "Reading your pinned in full is like tripping and getting mud in your hair and then getting hit in the face by a baseball bat and then finding out that the person with the baseball bat is the one who tripped you." 8b. It was not intended for the pinned to look like that but now it's just like that and I call it a beast affectionately.

9. HATES sexyman Exandroth. 9a. Made a DNI banner for it. 9b-1. The truth is I instead draw Exandroth as an entity who cosplays anime girls the likes of the 2000s completely insane kind who would definitely set his pfp to black when its having a bad day. 9b-2. I created a hypothetical screenshot of Exandroth's tumblr blog and everyone thought it was very funny.

10. I made a poll recently and none of the voters called me normal so that's just democracy.

11. I cannot think of anything else because I'm on mobile and do not have references. 11a. Followers idk do my propaganda for me.

[l3vi4than]

Hello, I see you’ve discovered the post soviet election fraud frustration? I don’t know how it’s been for you earlier, but I know that feeling. Let me share with you some insights we slavs and other eastern people had painfully tested for the last couple decades while fighting against imperialistic regimes in our countries:

Ignoring the elections and keeping your vote to yourself DOES NOT WORK. Your vote is not going to be counted as absent — it will be counted as a vote supporting the richiest candidate (or the one who has the influence over the electoral process)

Votes of your deceased and disabled close ones will be counted against their will in the same manner, so it’s your responsibility to show up at the election site and make sure their names aren’t on the list of the voters. Yes, cross their names out if you have to.

As OP said: vote against works. Make sure your vote is counted. You don’t have to vote for a candidate if all candidates disgust you, you can always spoil the ballot (if thats a thing in your country electoral rules). Like draw a kitten on top of candidates list or use the free space to write DARTH VADER and a checkbox with a mark in it like you just voted for him. Limitless creativity. Just make sure your vote is counted — either as support for one of the candidates or a “fuck yall” statement.

Teaming up works. Uniting around one single “lesser evil” candidate on a simple premise “this is our against all candidate” can be disastrous for the electoral system. Use this.

Don’t think your vote matters. It does not. It will be altered and manipulated statistically to fit the numbers they want to see. Your vote is not you participating in the political process — your vote is an “I AM STILL HERE” statement. Make it loud. Make it harder for them to ignore you. They will anyway, but other people all around your country — they will hear it, and they will join.

Use legal tools available to you. Malicious compliance is a marvellous thing able to drive huge changes. Call your district to gather at the site at the same time — this isn’t illegal for a few dozens people to come to vote simultaneously, but it’s a huge and annoying problem to deal with for the system.

Leaving you with no choice is a deliberate tactic used against you to shut you up and push whatever agenda the current regime wants. It is almost never a coincidence that all candidates are “the same shit”. Spoiler effect is a thing whether you’re aware of it or not. Do not fall into this trap. Don’t let them strip you from your rights if you still have them.

I’m not going to lie to you: you’re not gonna change anything. Your impact is invisible and you’re not important. That’s exactly why people at power think they can do whatever they want. Like make a girl a living incubator to produce soldiers or send you as a meat bomb to war on the other side of the planet that you had no idea about. But you are the girl, you are the soldier. It is always up to you how you’re going to deal with this attitude towards you.

If nothing works and you’re (or your family) in the immediate danger (or will be soon enough) — I am very sorry, but immigration has been the only proven way to avoid becoming “collateral damage”. I’m not saying this with easy heart, but I want you to know that it’s an option. Think about your personal safety first, mentally-wise included.

Trust me, I understand the level of apathy that is hitting you right now and how impossible it seems to actually change anything. I know, I’ve been there (ngl still there). We all watched Putin with his 80% “support” just a month ago. Don’t let your country fall into the hands of another Putin, I beg you. You are still in the civilised part of the world (I know it doesn’t feel like this, but believe me — there ARE places where everything is even worse, and even worse than that too), so use it. Weaponise it if you need to. But don’t let them strip you from your agency.

Apathy kills.

If you won’t make the choice — someone else is going to make it for you. Every single day. Keep that in mind.

Please be safe 💖

So, there's a lot of USians around who are very clearly fucking fed up with their political choices this election cycle, and planning to sit it out.

And I get it! What's the point of voting if there's no one to vote for?

The thing is, I'm Australian. In Australia, voting is compulsory. We don't get to sit out our elections, and I'll be real honest with you - we don't exactly get better choices than you lot. So how do you vote if there's no one to vote for? You find someone to vote against. And there's always someone to vote against.

Now, we have the pleasure of preferential voting in Australia - We get to rank every candidate from 1 to X, and I'll tell you, there's something so cathartic about putting the biggest bastard of the lot at the very bottom of your preferences. I understand that USians don't get that option - you get to mark one person, and that's it.

That means that you get one shot, so aim it at the biggest bastard of the lot. The candidate you most utterly detest. Put your vote in the worst possible place for them. Don't even think about who that vote's going towards, that's not the point. Remember, every vote is a vote against someone. Make sure you fuck up that someone's election day!

[judeswhore]

instagram au: my valentine - jude bellingham

a mini collection of valentine’s weekend posts and a tiny piece of fluff <3 it’s incredibly short and not the best but it’s a start :)

pictures are not mine, credit to the original owners

judebellingham✔️

liked by sanchooo10 and others

judebellingham that shirt doesn’t belong to her🙄

view all 936 comments..

yourinstagram i bought it

↳ judebellingham for me..

↳ yourinstagram finders keepers

sanchooo10 forget about the shirt watch where you’re putting your hands

↳ judebellingham y/n had no complaints

jobebellingham socks and sandals🤔

↳yourinstagram i begged him not to

↳jobebellingham send him home the fresh air isn’t doing him any good

yourinstagram

liked by judebellingham and others

yourinstagram sea ya later

view all 76 comments..

sasha__rebecca the prettiest girl🥰

↳yourinstagram missing u!❤️❤️

judebellingham you’re not funny

↳yourinstagram that’s weird, i swear the caption was ur idea

↳judebellingham wasn’t like i’m funnier and u know it

↳yourinstagram okay mr all my jokes are from the back of a penguin biscuit

↳judebellingham watch it missy

judebellingham you’re fit though

↳yourinstagram i love u🤍🤍

yourinstagram

liked by laurennjjames and others

yourinstagram my bf is prettier than urs <3

view all 675 comments..

reecejames open your eyes bellingham

judebellingham who’s that handsome boy??

↳yourinstagram think he’s called jadon? might be wrong tho

yourinstagram ps: jude’s wearing my shirt

judebellingham✔️

liked by benchilwell and others

judebellingham ☀️

load all 1,726 comments..

yourinstagram im looking like a whore

↳judebellingham you need your phone taking away🤣

yourinstagram did u know i fancy u

yourinstagram the level of disrespect for u to post this knowing how weak i am

erling.haaland looking good bro

↳judebellingham my bro❤️

johnstonesofficial finally cracking a smile😂😂

yourinstagram

liked by sasha__rebecca and others

yourinstagram the most perfect view

load all 135 comments..

judebellingham 😍😍

judebellingham you or the sunset? i vote you

laurennjjames an absolute stunner

jobebellingham there’s no way jude took these

↳yourinstagram don’t be daft i had to pay someone

judebellingham✔️

liked by declanrice and others

judebellingham she downed that glass in 20 seconds, happy valentine’s day angel, i love you🤍

comments have been limited.

yourinstagram i adore u more than anything❤️❤️

yourinstagram

liked by masonmount and others

yourinstagram couldn’t ask for a better drinking partner, happy valentine’s day baby💞

comments have been limited.

judebellingham 🤍🤍

yourinstagram

liked by jobebellingham and others

yourinstagram thank u for the most beautiful weekend i love u more than life🤍🤍

comments have been disabled.

Jude couldn't hold back his grin as he gazed at you across the little restaurant table, his eyes following your every movement. You were staring down at the menu, brows furrowed in concentration and his tummy gave a funny little flip when your rocking foot gently knocked against his ankle. It didn't matter that the two of you had been together for so long, you still managed to make his heart race and his cheeks heat up. You gave a little huff and then glanced up at him, brows drawing in deeper when you caught his smile.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" You set the menu back down between you and settled your chin in your hand, elbows propped up on the table. He just shrugged in response, leaning his own elbows on the table so the two of you were only inches apart thanks to how tiny it actually was. Your eyes locked and a slow soft smile curled at your lips.

"You’re beautiful." He watched the blush that trickled over your cheekbones at his words and his smile only grew, his ankle hooking around yours beneath the table. He let his eyes flicker down to your lips. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was a gentle barely there whisper but still had a kicking impact on Jude and he leant a little further forward so he could press his lips to yours. The kiss was quick and fleeting, your nose bumping his as you turned your head away and let out a laugh. “You’ll get us kicked out for PDA.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It definitely is.” He lifted one hand and tucked your hair behind your ear, the soft caress of his fingers across your jaw making you shiver, your lashes fluttering. His thumb brushed just beneath your eye and you didn’t complain as he kissed you again, your mind short circuiting when his tongue met yours. You were thankful for the tiny restaurant and your corner table because you weren’t too fond of having people constantly snapping photos of the two of you but in the moment, with Jude’s mouth on yours, he was all you could think about.

He was slow in pulling away this time, his fingers still cupping the side of your face. He kissed the tip of your nose and grinned. “I hope you know that this weekend has been the best of my life. Because of you.”

“Mine too. I know I’ve said it about a thousand times but I’m grateful that you did this, you didn’t have to.” Jude just shrugged and settled back slightly, his fingers tangling with yours so he could bring your hand up to his mouth. His lips ghosted over the back of your knuckles when he spoke.

“You know I’d do anything for you. My girl deserves the best of everything, yeah?” He kissed your ring finger, unaware of the way it lit up your eyes. “Happy valentine’s day, baby.”

“Happy valentine’s day, Jude.”

[dirtywresling102]

Forever in His Debt - Drew McIntyre (18+)

Mafia!Drew McIntyre x Melody

Commission: @tokipanda68

Summary: Melody’s father owes money to the mafia. He can’t afford to pay them back so Drew takes what he wants. 

Warnings: 18+ Blog, Minors DNI, Mafia, Smut, Cussing, Mentions of drinking and gambling

Word Count: 4,194

Follow My Main Blog: @dirtywrestling

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Enjoy!

“Please, Drew- Mr. McIntyre, I'll get you the money. I swear!” The small round man begged. Drew ignored every word that was coming out of his mouth. He’s had people like this before, borrowing money for whatever reason and not being able to pay the mafia back. Drew looked around the small house, it was pretty obvious that there was nothing valuable here that would cover the debt that this man dug himself in. 

“You see, when you borrowed money from me, from my mob I expect you to pay me back and on time.” Drew’s eyes were cold as he looked at the man. He knew this man’s gambling troubles and drinking so it was no surprise that the banks turned him down for a loan. Drew clicked his tongue, eyeing around the house, his goons behind him, their guns loaded. Of course no guns were out just in case there were children. Drew wasn’t that heartless, he did violant things, he was a fucking mobster for Christ sakes but he knew when to draw the line if children were involved. 

Parents were smart to tell their children about the mafia as a scary story before bedtime. So arriving here and if there were children, they knew better than to do anything stupid. Drew’s hazel eyes scanned over the shelf, soon stopping to see a picture frame. ‘Oh, what’s this?’ Drew thought to himself, arching his eyebrow to see the man that borrowed money from him and a stunning girl who was no older than sixteen. Drew was shocked by her beauty in the picture. Tearing his attention away from the picture he looked around the house once more. There were pictures of her all on the wall now that he noticed, he stopped looking for anything valuable. “Is this your daughter?” Drew asked, pointing to a picture. 

Steve- the man who was in debt quickly nodded his head. “Yes, she just turned sixteen.” He swallowed thickly. “Her name is Melody.” Steve spoke, rubbing his knuckles nervously.

Drew licked his lips seductively. “Melody.” Drew whispered, the way her name rolled off his tongue made him shiver. 

Steve didn’t miss the way Drew licked his lips. “Please, Mr. McIntyre, she's all I have.” 

“Let’s make a deal.” Drew spoke, ignoring Steve. “If you don’t have my money by the time Melody is legal age I will take her and we can forget about you being in the negatives with me.” Drew straightened his tie, brushing his sleeves. 

“I- I.” Steve didn’t know what to say, it was a hell of a deal and it was extremely hard to make deals with the leader of the mafia. “Are we talking about voting age or drinking age?” 

“Legal age.” Drew gritted his jaw, the thick Scottish accent seething through his teeth. His fist hitting the wall closest to him, making Steve and even his goons jump. Drew cleared his throat, running his thick fingers through his long raven hair. He didn’t like repeating himself. “I’ll see you in two years on Melony’s eighteenth birthday. Better pay me back if you want to keep your little girl.” With that Drew took a few large steps and left the small house. Drew’s heart was hammering and it wasn’t because of intimidating Steve. 

Coming home after a long day of college was the best part of the day, especially on my birthday. Pushing the key into the lock I twisted it, surprised that the door wasn’t locked I swung the front door open. “I’m home!” I hollered, taking my bag off of my shoulders. I placed it on the floor by the door. I tossed my keys onto the nearest table. “Hello?” I asked, it was too quiet in the house. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen or smell. No sign that my mother was cooking my favorite meal, we were probably going out to eat. 

Entering the kitchen I saw my parents sitting in chairs and two large men in suits behind them. “What’s going on?” I asked, instantly noticing the tears streaming down my mother's cheeks. 

My father finally spoke up. “Honey, you’re going to go away for a while.” He wouldn’t dare meet my gaze. 

“Away?” I asked, this was a weird birthday present. “Uh why?” My eyes darted towards the two strangers standing over my parents. 

My mother let out a sob, her hands coming over her face. “What’s going on?” I asked, this wasn’t what I was expecting for my eighteenth birthday. “You guys are scaring me.” 

“Honey, you know how your father has a problem. He did something unspeakable and without my permission or knowledge.” She hiccuped.

I was growing angry as they beat around the bush and wouldn’t spit it out already. Taking a step backwards to run up to my room, my back collided with a larger figure. “Hello, love.” A male’s Scottish accent hit my ears. “The name is Drew.” Spinning around I looked up at the tall man. I noticed how Drew’s hazel eyes darken as he looked at me. “Pretty young thing you are.” He whispered so only I could hear him. 

I blinked at his comment, “Oh hell no.” I instantly knew what was going on as my eyes looked down at the gun tucked away in his waist. With my father’s financial problems and the way this man dressed and looked how he had money. Realizing who Drew was, I whipped my head around, glaring at my father. “You did not fucking pimp me out.” I snarled. 

Drew laughed loudly at my assumption. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. “Oh on the contrary, doll.” Drew bent down low, his lips near my ear. “You see, your daddy borrowed money from me and we made a deal two years ago on how if he doesn’t pay me back that you’ll mine at legal age.” 

“You bastard!” I screamed at him, tears threatening to spill but I tried holding them back. 

“Shh, love. He’s not worth it.” Drew placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from the kitchen and down the hallway towards my room. “I’ll give you ten mintues to pack up and we’re leaving for good.” Drew’s voice was giving off a warning sound as if saying ‘don’t do anything stupid’. Nodding I turned around, entering my room and slamming it shut. Tears streamed down my face as I realized what was happening. My father sold my life because he was in debt. 

Quickly gather clothes and other things I could think of and shove it into my bag. Opening the door I stormed out, slightly jumping to see Drew leaning against the wall. “You’re already done?” He asked. Nodding, I walked past him. “That was only like three minutes.” Drew checked his watch that was wrapped around his wrist, arching his eyebrow.

“Just get me the fuck out of here.” I demanded, not even thinking what Drew’s plans with me were. 

“Melody, wait.” My mother sobbed out, trying to get my attention before I left the house. Ignoring her pleas and cries I stepped out of the house. I didn’t even notice the large black SUV with tinted windows until now. 

“Right this way, love.” Drew placed his large hand on my lower back and guided me to the vehicle. Drew reached his free hand and opened the door. Climbing in, I scooted to the farthest seat, my attention towards the window. 

“I’ll pay him back sweetheart, don’t you worry!” Was all I heard my father yell. 

Drew smirked at my father and shook his head. “Don’t even worry about it, you’re debt free.” He winked, climbing into the car he slammed the door shut. The two other goons climbed into the front, they soon started the car and we left. 

My eyes were everywhere in the large house that Drew was guiding me through. I looked at all of the expensive and unique paintings hanging on the wall, large soft rugs stretched on the marble floor. I was so distracted, I wasn’t even paying attention to his words. “And this is your room.” Drew pushed open the door. The bedroom walls were dipping in my favorite color along with the covers on the bed. It was much larger than the room I had back at home. Drew took my things from me as I explored the room, there was a large bathroom connected to my room. 

As I walked back into my room, I saw Drew searching through my things. “What are you doing?” I asked. He tossed my clothes around until he found what he was looking for, my laptop. 

“Don’t need this.” He flashed the only nice thing I had in my life.

“Hey- wait no! I need it for class.” I frowned, trying to reach it but he raised it higher for me not to grab. Damn his tallness.

“I can’t have you blabbing about my secrets now, love.” Drew informed me, raising it higher as I tried to climb on his large form.

“I won’t, I promise!” I begged, my eyes looking back at the laptop. 

Drew grabbed my chin, the pad of his thumb rubbed against my cheek. “Sleep now, love. You’ve had a busy day.” He whispered. Brushing his thumb over my plump bottom lip his eyes looked at my mouth and back up at my eyes. He leaned downwards, his soft lips pressing against mine, leaving a small kiss. I didn’t even know if I kissed back or not I was too shocked. Pulling away he licked his lips as if he was getting the rest of my taste off of his mouth. “Rest, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Drew promised. With that he turned on the heel of his nice black dress shoes and left my room. 

That night I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was being in a new environment, the fact that I’ll probably never see my mother again or it was the memorizing kiss Drew planted on me before he left. Laying in bed, I stared at the white ceiling above me. The kiss kept playing in my head, over and over again. Squirming underneath the blankets I froze, I was getting wet from the event that happened hours ago. Swallowing thickly, I ran my dominant hand down my body. Shivering from my own touch I exhaled shallowly as I reached my soaking entrance. 

A soft whimper escaped my lips as I touched my sensitive clit. How could I get wet at the thought of kissing my kidnapper, a total stranger to me! Tossing my head back into the soft plush pillows as my index finger entered me. My tightness wrapped around the single digit. Slowly pushing and pulling my finger in and out of my pussy, I slowly sped up the pace. Flashes of Drew filled my head, how he towered over me, how built he was. His suit stretched as his muscles flexed with each movement he made. Remembering how his eyes looked at me over everything I did. 

My pussy clenched around my finger, I was close. Panting heavily, I used my other hand to play with my clit. The last memory I had with Drew struck my mind. His lips soft against mine, how they moved against me and held me close to his large body. My orgasm hit in an instant, the hand that was playing with my clit flew up to my mouth, muffling my moans as I overcame my climax. 

Panting, I slowly pulled my finger out and laid in bed, calming myself down. Once I came down from my high I pulled the blankets off my sweaty body. Rolling out of bed, I decided to roam the empty halls. Slowly opening my door, I peaked my head out looking up and down the dark hallway. Seeing no one about, I slipped out of my room. The large house seemed a bit spookier with no lights on. 

My feet pitter pattered down the hallway on the cold marble floor, I slightly cursed at myself for not wearing socks. Making a right turn I ended up in the kitchen. My stomach growled, realizing I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. Then again how could I eat after all of the events that happened. Walking towards the fridge, I open the door. Squinting as the bright light inside blinded me, I looked at all of the options. I’ve never had this amount of food to pick, we didn’t have much back at my house. Grabbing a water bottle and a container of strawberries, I turned around and jumped at the figure behind me. “Can’t sleep?” His soothing accent filled the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and hitting my ears. 

“No.” I murmured, moving past him and placing my small snack on the counter. Opening the water I took a few gulps.

“Well, sounds like to me you were having a nightmare.” A slight smirk appeared on his face as I choked.  Drew walked closer to me, nearly hovering as his lips grazed my ear. “My room is next to yours and the walls are very thin.” Shivering at his deep voice I finally had the courage to look up at him. “Tell me, bana-phrionnsa” he placed his large hand underneath my chin. “What made you moan ever so sweetly, hmm?” Drew asked, eyeing my appearance. “And don’t lie, I know the sounds of a naughty girl masturbating when I hear one.”

My face became bright red, I nearly forgot how to speak as he made my body tremble just by the way he was speaking. “I- I…” My mouth became dry even though I just drank the cold liquid. Swallowing my nervousness. “What does b- bana-” Before I botched the word Drew chuckled deeply and cut me off. 

“Bana-phrionnsa, means princess in my country.” He stroked his soft finger against my cheek. “You’re my bana-phrionnsa.” He hummed, leaning down he pressed his forehead against mine. “Do you like it when I call you my bana-phrionnsa?” 

I had no words, he was speaking so sweet to me. Even though I knew what and who he was I couldn’t help but to eat up his words. I nodded, not wanting to embarrass myself. I saved my words. 

“So tell me, what made you moan so loudly tonight?” He questioned, pulling his head away. He wasn’t going to give up on this question.

“You, I was thinking about you.” I breathed out. 

Drew smiled as I finally admitted it and stopped dodging his question. “Is that so?” He licked his lips. His muscular arm pushed the bottle of water and container of strawberries off of the counter, making them fall onto the floor. He gripped my waist, picking me up and placing me on the cold, smooth surface of the counter top. “And what were you thinking about me?” He growled, eyes darkening slightly. Drew leaned into me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck. 

“Please don’t make me say it.” I whined, embarrassed. I cried out in pleasure as Drew bit down on my flesh where my neck and shoulder met, his warm hand slipped underneath my shirt, cupping my breast. 

Suckling hard, Drew pulled away from the dark hickey he left. “Say it.” He pinched and tweaked at my nipple. 

“You fucking me! I thought about you thrusting your cock in me.” I moaned as he switched onto my other breast. 

“Hmm, good girl.” Drew whispered huskily. He pulled his hand out from under my shirt which made me whimper from the loss of contact. Drew gripped the bottom of my night shirt, tossing it over my head he threw it behind him. His eyes darkened at the sight of my bare chest, his 

hazel eyes scanned over my half naked body. “Stunning.” He hummed, leaning down he latched his mouth around my left nipple. Suckling and lightly biting, his hand started to play with my right breasts. 

Tossing my head back, I moaned in pure bliss. My hands gripped at his long dark hair, giving it a slight tug. Drew pulled away slightly from my chest, soft moans left his mouth from my actions. He left a kiss trail as he made his way to my other breast. Doing the same thing, sucking and flicking his tongue over my hardening nipple, I grew wetter in my panties. 

Drew pulled away from my tender chest, he grabbed his dark shirt and pulled it over his head. My eyes traveled over his body, his biceps flexed as he tossed his shirt to the side, chest strong along with his chiseled abs across his stomach. He obviously never misses a day at the gym. Drew grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. His fingers dipped in the hem of my pajama pants, pulling them down my legs along with my panties. I shivered slightly as the cold countertop touched my bare ass. 

“Oh my sweet, Melody.” Drew’s husky voice rang in my ear. Looking up at him, I caught him licking his lips. “I don’t know whether to eat you out or fuck you full of my come.” Drew chewed on the inside of his cheek as if he was making a decision. 

My heart hammered against my chest, no man had ever shown how much he wanted me before. Growing the courage, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. “You can eat me out whenever I need you.” I pouted, my eyes glossy as I looked over his features. As if he couldn’t believe the mouth I had on me. 

“Whatever my bana-phrionnsa wants.” Drew smiled. His large hands left my waist and started to push his pants and boxers down his muscular legs. My eyes widen slightly at the sight of his large cock twitching against his lower fit stomach. He grabbed underneath my chin, lifting my attention to his face. “It’ll fit.” Drew smirked, my reaction to his cock must have been concerning. 

Drew placed his hands on top of my thighs. Drew had surprisingly soft hands for being a killer. I wondered how many people he’s killed, if not him how many people he's ordered to have killed. Knowing he’s in the mob life he’s broken the law many times, not only killing being on top of the list. Being a mobster also had perks, money, cars and women. Swallowing thickly, my mind thought about his sex life, how many women has he fucked? As I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize Drew spread my legs and dipped two of his fingers into my dripping cunt. “Ah!” I squealed in surprise as he slowly pulled out. He brought his glistening finger to his mouth. Wrapping his lips around his finger, he sucked off my juices. “Hmm.” He growled, slowly pulling his digits out of his mouth. “Taste so fucking devine.” He purred. “You sure you don’t want me to eat you out?” Drew teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

“I’m sure, now please fuck me.” I begged, my legs still spread. My juices dripped down onto the surface of the counter. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely.” Drew fitted in between my thighs, he grabbed underneath my knees and wrapped my legs around his waist. His raging cock throbbing with need. Drew grabbed the base of his cock, pumping his dick a few times in his hand. Guiding his mushroom tip against my entrance he slowly pushed in me. My hands grabbed at his swole shoulders, digging my nails into his tan flesh. 

“Fuck.” Drew hissed out, not just because of the stinging pain in his shoulders, but my pussy wrapped so tightly around his tip. Drew slowly pushed his hips against mine, his cock sinking inside of my cunt. 

“K- Keep going, don’t stop.” I moaned, resting my head against his slightly hairy chest, my eyes shut tightly. He didn’t stop one beat as his cock slowly inched his way deeper. 

Drew exhaled loudly, now balls deep inside of me. He growled lowly as my pussy fluttered around his cock. “I need to move.” His hands resting on my waist. 

My head snapped up, my eyes full of lust. “Then fucking move.” I demanded. Drew flashed a devilish smirk towards me, showing his white teeth. Pulling his cock half way out of me, he thrust back inside. I whimpered as his rigid cock hit a different angle this time. 

“So fucking tight.” Drew huffed a low howl as he kept thrusting. Drew looked down, watching his glistening cock fuck in and out of his lovers pussy. Drew looked at me, watching my face twist in bliss and pleasure, he couldn’t help but smile. “I can tell you’re close, bana-phrionnsa.” Drew dug his fingers into her hips, leaving bruises. “Hold it for me, Melody. Just a little longer.” Drew announced as his cock slipped in and out at a faster pace than before. 

The kitchen was full of hot sex sounds, moans and whimpering along with dirty talking and skin slapping against skin. The wetness of my pussy squelched with each thrust Drew did, making me blush. “I- I can’t hold on much longer.” I warned, my stomach tightening with each thrust Drew pushed into me. Everything Drew was doing made my body hot and bothered. His touches, the way he’d angle his cock differently with each thrust. Drew leaned down, his heavy breathing hitting my ear. 

“Be a good girl and wait.” He growled, his lips latching onto my neck, suckling hard he growled as he left hickies. I gritted my teeth slightly as my orgasm became closer and closer as Drew fucked me faster and harder. 

“I- I can’t hold it!” I cried out, hot tears slid down my cheeks as I held my orgasm back. Feeling Drew’s cock twitch inside my walls, I nearly exploded. 

“Come, fucking come all over my cock Melody.” Drew demanded, his heavy balls emptying his seed inside of me. Feeling his warm come enter my body, triggered my climax. My eyes fluttered shut as my body shook from the intenseness. Screaming out Drews name, I raked my nails down his arm, leaving marks. Drew hissed at the slight pain, pumping his cock a few more times in me, pusing his load deeper.

As we came down from our high and caught our breaths, Drew rested his sweaty forehead against my shoulder. The scottish mobster mumbled something I didn’t catch. “W- What?” I asked slightly out of breath. 

He brought his head up, repeating what he said. “Marry me.” Drew looked down at me as if he was staring into my soul.

“Marry you?” I choked out, this man took me from my family because of my father’s debt. “I... “ I looked away from him. “I don’t know what to say.” I mumbled, looking at the shiny floor, it must have been cleaned earlier today. 

“Say yes.” Drew spoke softly, grabbing my jaw and making me look at him. “You’re all I’ve ever thought about.” Drew confessed. “I visited your father when you were a minor, warning him about his debt. Melody, your father had two years to pay me back and he never did, I took you away from that abuse. I saw your phone on the shelf and I fell in love with you.” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “I had plans for you.” Drew looked down, his soft cock still in me.

Two and two clicked, my eyes widened as I realized he wasn’t wearing protection. “You had planned to get me pregnant?” I swallowed thickly. 

“I mean, this wasn’t planned.” Drew cleared his throat. “I was planning on taking you on our wedding night but hearing you moaning in your room I couldn’t stop myself.” Drew was still caressing my face. “I’ll make a deal with you.” 

“Yeah, like you did with my dad?” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my breasts, trying to hide myself. 

“Don’t be like that.” Drew warned, he gave me a slight glare. It was best to keep business and relationship problems separate. “If you marry me, you can see your family whenever you want.” Drew promised. 

Biting my lower lip, I thought about it. Marrying a handsome Scottish mobster that was also great at sex along with seeing my family or don’t marry him and he could possibly do the worst to me. Biting my cheek I weighed my pros and cons. 

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Yes.” I quickly said, meeting his eyes. Drew blinked as if he didn’t understand. 

“What?” He questioned.

I smiled softly at his confusion, I played with the tips of his hair flowing over his shoulder. “I said yes.” 

“You sure you don’t want to think-”

I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes to him wanting to be respectful and wanting me to think about my answer. “I said yes, I want to marry you. Now, where’s my ring?” I giggled.

[hardylettuce]

Okay but Biden is not America's driver. He would not be the only (or even main) one in charge for the next four years. That's your house reps, governors and senators, who you should also be voting for in November.

And yet even if he's not America's boss or king, it IS still important that he wins the election. We already saw what Trump does as president- executive order after executive order, with other politicians shaking their heads, but never really doing anything. Lawyers drawing up lawsuits that won't go to court for years. He'll put even more conservatives on the Supreme Court in lifetime positions. People will die. It might be our last election.

It sucks that both viable options are old, for a variety of reasons. But I'm begging people to understand how politics work in America (besides "badly and slowly"). You don't just show up and vote every four years. You vote blue in November, then you come back home and get into local politics. You try to radicalized your town as much as you can. You get progressive mayors and house reps, and eventually that builds into progressive governors and senators. You protest and call your elected officials and give them hell for the next four years until they do better. And THEN maybe 2028's election is someone you'll be proud to vote for.

Biden sucks. I will still vote for him because, unfortunately, a lot of modern American politics are about harm reduction rather than bold progress. Please make informed decisions instead of letting angry and apathetic people on social media convince you to stay home or do a "protest" vote.

[cryinginthebackseat]

the trick is to keep breathing

AO3

Fandom: Silent Hill

Pairing: James Sunderland x OC, James Sunderland x Mary Shepherd-Sunderland

Words: 9.132

Summary: They're both lonely and miserable creatures. Maybe that creates a bond. (Pre-Silent Hill 2)

Warnings: Swearings, smut, adultery, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Author’s note: this fic is purely self indulgent that i've been working on since december.

again, i would have to thank my sister/best friend @mortifying-macaroni for introducing me to the world of silent hill, especially silent hill 2 because that game... boy, what a masterclass in writing.

the fic takes before silent hill 2. also i didn't plan for the story to be this long, but here we are, i guess.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When we are strongest— who draws back?

Most merry— who falls down laughing?

When we are very bad— what can they do to us?

- Arthur Rimbaud

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Einstein once predicted, in his theory of general relativity, that when two neutron stars collide, they would create a ripple in the fabric of spacetime known as gravitational waves.

On one Sunday afternoon, James Sunderland walks alone inside a cafe, shaking off the rain from his jacket.

He bumps into Mauve Shepherd-Graves.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"God, I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?" Mauve asks him later after they squeeze into a booth in the corner.

James is eyeing the coffee-stained table and gives her a tight-faced closed-mouth smile. It's been a while since someone asked him that.

“I'm fine," is what he can come up with as an answer. He doesn't know what else to offer her. He feels like he doesn’t know much these days.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

To start from the beginning, you would have to go back to Ashfield.

It was a long time ago, long before his whole life fell apart. A house party being held by one of Mary’s great-uncles and Mary had begged for James to come with her.

Of course, he said yes.

This was the role he meant to play for the night: James was supposed to be rubbing elbows with several members of her family— notably her father; making a good first impression, securing the vote as they say, if there was any political aspect to this, but what did he know about fucking politics, right? Except everyone has a role in everything.

That, and coupled that with the fact that he is never too good at any of this: socializing. There’s no safety net in talking. Anything could go impossibly wrong, anything could collapse. And James almost did, that night. He was smothered with questions and curious glances by the rest of her family. He felt pinned. He was being observed, processed and assessed like he was taking a shit at the Guggenheim.

He needed to get out of here.

"I'm going outside for a smoke," James whispered to Mary, almost in a hurry. She nodded, but her voice was drowned out by the boisterous, overlapping conversations around them.

Alone, James headed out from the house into a chilly and blustery February night. He buried his nose in his coat— it was fucking freezing, but he found it he could breathe easier here. There's no need for masks out here.

He reached for a cigarette pack from his pocket only to remember he’d left his lighter in Mary's bag.

"Here." Said someone cheerily from his left. James tilted his head to the side to find a young woman in an oversized overcoat offering her lighter to him.

"Thank you," he said as he handed it back to her, a plume of smoke coming out of his mouth. "How did you know?"

"Smoker's instinct, I guess.”

James chuckled. "Well, that’s quite the instinct you have. I appreciate it, though," he told her, kind. A beat, then: "I'm James, by the way. I came with Mar—”

"I know who you are, Mr Man of the Hour,” she interrupted, lifting her cigarette to her mouth. “Seriously, there wasn’t a conversation I participated in where the aunts or the uncles didn’t mention your name. You’re like, I don’t know, an astronomical phenomenon or something.”

Something dour settled over James’ face before he chuckled again. This time sounding dry and forced. “Yes, I guess I am,” he said. “Are you family or…?”

“Mary’s dad and my mom are sibs.” She shrugged. “So yeah, I guess that makes me family."

Recognition quickly settled over him. “You must be Mauve.” The Mauve in question nodded, grinning when she did. Like the rest of the world had the habit of forgetting she even exists in the first place. The idea rang impossibly absurd in his head. “Mary might have mentioned you once or twice.”

“And Mary might have mentioned you once or twice.”

James smirked, feeling a new taste in his mouth. It wasn’t awful, for once. “I’m terribly sorry, I should have recognized you.”

Mauve shrugged again. “No harm done. It’s not like we’d met before,” she responded glibly. “Tell me something, though, shouldn’t you be inside, trying to win over the old dinosaur cull that is my uncle and the rest of the family’s blessings instead of being out here?” Her mouth twisted slowly, equal parts shit-eating and knowing. “I mean, you can’t be hiding from my family, can you?”

James stared at her with vague apprehension. He didn’t know what to make of her yet; Aegean sea-eyed and windswept dark hair. A relative of Mary’s or not, she was a stranger to him and he didn’t trust her enough to have this conversation with her.

“I… I don’t know what you're talking about."

Her smile grew into something less easily identifiable. The bright light from the lamp post they stood under made her feature glow translucent and otherworldly.

“Sure you do," she said, then dropped her cigarette onto the ground, stomped it into ash and went back inside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Naturally, James told Mary about his encounter with Mauve once they’d got back to her place.

To his utmost surprise, she only laughed at him.

“Mauve is a wildcard. You never really know which side of her you’ll catch,” Mary started. She sat down at the vanity table and took off her earrings. “That, and she's always been too keen on giving her heart away and far more perceptive than we thought she was. In another life, she might have done well sitting next to Poirot or Dupin.”

James nodded absently. He had not taken off his jacket and tried his damndest not to stare at Mary's mauve-colored duvet.

Somewhere in the back of his head, James couldn’t help but classify Mauve Shepherd-Graves in the same category as landmines and Punji sticks.

He made a mental note to tread carefully around her.

“She didn’t always have this enigma about her, though,” Mary continued. “There was a time when she would wear her heart on her sleeve. I suppose it’s true when they say really knowing someone doesn’t mean anything. People change.”

Silence settled for a long moment, before he prompted, “What happened to her?”

“Her father happened.” And that was it. Mary never cared to elaborate and James didn’t know how to ask her without sounding like Sherlock Holmes being high as a kite on a fuckin opium, so he kept his mouth shut.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So, how’s our Lady Magdalene holding up these days?" Mauve asks now, slipping a finger inside her mug and licking the remains of the eggnog latte. James watches her over the rim of his glass, the conversation stalled.

He looks away sharply. "I don't know. I haven't seen Mary for more than a month."

Mauve frowns. "Why not?"

James peers out of the stained windows, rain tapped and dripped at the skylight. The cafe is a few degrees colder now. It’s late afternoon; rainy autumn, golden and damp and gray clouds cosset down the sleepy sky.

"The last time I went to visit her, she made it very clear she was not happy to see me," he utters, feeding himself on the knowledge.

"Oh. I'm sorry,” she says quietly. “Mary lashed out on me too, when I visited her. Told me I’m taking away everything from her, whatever that means.”

James snaps to attention. “She did?” he asks, trying to contain his disappointment for his bedridden wife, but failing.

She waves a hand. “It’s fine. Didn’t stop me from coming back.”

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. You're her cousin, not just some dummy she can verbally pummel on whenever she feels like it. That’s not fair.”

“True. But I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt and assume that it was the medications talking,” she says but James is already shaking his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He doesn’t think he has the capacity for it.

“I don't think it's the meds."

"What are you talking about?” she questions, confusion bleeding into her voice.

James pretended not to hear this. “So, how about you? How’s college?” he asks instead, pivoting the conversation.

Mauve catches that, keen-eyed as ever. “Fine.”

“That’s good,” he says, much to himself than her. This is good. He could use this kind of distraction. “You’re in your final year now, right? Have you chosen what topic you’d want to discuss for your Bachelor's thesis?”

“James, what are you doing?”

James releases an unexpected sigh. For a moment, he hates her. To hell with Mary and her thrice-damned family. “Look, can I…" he ducks his head. "can we not talk about her right now?”

He feels her face narrow into assessment, aimed at him and James lets it- he has no cards, no motives- while sipping on his cooling coffee and feels the strangeness of his life.

"Okay.” She pauses. "Okay," she repeats, her voice firm. “Whatever you want, James.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They fall into an amiable silence. Unsurprisingly, it does not last.

"Are you going to eat that?" James motions to the almond croissant he bought for her. He knows her enough to know she likes it, he's seen her eating it on several occasions.

Mauve has been picking at the pastry with the fork, pokes it, slices it with some effort, then abandons it altogether for the past few minutes.

She pushes the plate aside.

“I don’t eat gluten anymore,” Mauve drawls. “Jayden told me it’s bad for my health.”

James lifts an eyebrow. He once heard, over straggling one-way conversations at the dinner table over a plate of turkey that looked as if it had died long before the colonists had set foot on this land and someone roasted the mangled corpse in a wood-burning stove then thought that it was good enough to serve it for Thanksgiving, how one of the cousins had eloquently put it that: “Mauve’s diet depends on whatever the man she’s screwing tells her what’s bad for her and what’s not.”

And James can’t help but ask, "Who's Jayden?"

Mauve blinks in a way he understands she didn’t expect the question. "Just some guy I've been seeing,” she answers after a pause.

“I see.” It isn’t his business of knowing, yet he really can’t help himself. “Is it serious?”

Mauve pauses longer. Reconsidering her answer, she wants to see how he responds.

“I don’t know.” She adjusts her posture. She looks very guarded suddenly and uncharacteristically calculating. “Maybe it is, I guess. Why do you want to know?”

He regards her solemnly. James knows what it's like to pledge yourself to another in the eyes of god. In sickness and in health, he’d vowed, but words are complicated airflow. And frankly, he’d rather not have her plunge into something she’s not ready for, but he doesn’t say that.

“Nothing,” James breathes instead. “I’m happy for you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Another year, another one of Mary's many cousins threw a New Year's Eve party at her apartment; Mary dragged him to it.

There’s a recurring pattern here: James being thrust into an environment he was both familiar and unfamiliar with. Someone had cranked the heater all the way up, he had to take off his jacket. It was the kind of night where everything was too loud and too bright (and too warm, in his case) with too much booze and everyone was caught in crosstalk and soundbites.

Mary had circulated. Now, she was helping the hostess in the kitchen with some kind of artichoke dish thing going on. James had decided not to intervene. The further he got from the kitchen, the better he thought.

So, James made a beeline towards a vacant armchair by the bookshelves. He found Mauve wandering about with a drink in hand. Her eyes lighted up as she spotted him.

“Hey,” she greeted. “You doing okay?”

James slumped onto the armchair, sighing. “I’m fine. Just needed to stretch my legs.” He looked up at her standing beside him. “Are you having a nice time?”

"Nope." Was all Mauve offered as an answer and moved over to sit on the coffee table across from him.

“Tell me, is it me or is it hot in here?”

“It’s not just you. I think someone messed with the thermostat.”

A breath escaped her. Like the start of a laugh, though it sounded a lot like a scoff. “I knew it. It’s probably Bob. He’s also probably the one who let Alex replace the DJ halfway through the party. He wants us all to suffer,” she says and James laughed at that.

"Well, I've been around your family long enough now to know that it's probably his aim.”

“Yep. Just cousin Bob trying to suck us all inside a black hole of terribly hand-picked songs and fry us all to death on New Year’s Eve. No biggie," Mauve drawled, her own smile mirroring his. James laughed again. But now she was looking at him strangely, he thought. She must be slightly drunk- or at least veering into it.

A pause, then: "Can you keep a secret, James?”

James stilled. He didn’t know why he stilled, but he did. “Uhm, sure, what is it?”

Mauve looked over her shoulder, as if making sure no one was listening, then leaned in toward him. James swallowed. Fear lurched in his chest. What was this or where was it going, he had not the foggiest clue.

“I’m organizing a prison break,” she murmured in his ear. “Operation: Getting The Hell Out Of Here and I’m in a dire need of an accomplice. What do you say, partner? You in?”

James exhaled, like he’d been underwater and now came up for air.

“I’m in.” There was a tremble to his voice, but he was grinning. “Let me get my jacket and I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”

"That's the spirit." Mauve giggled approvingly with a tipsy edge to it. Her cheeks flushed pink. James couldn’t look away.

“Oh, I haven’t asked,” Mauve said after coming down from her high. “How was Silent Hill? What’s the Sunderlands’ consensus to the foggy town?”

"It was beautiful. Mary wouldn’t let me check out of the hotel until I promised that I’d take her back there one day.” And Mauve smiled endearingly, chuckling a low “that’s our Mary, alright.” James continued, “Though I’d suggest you visit in the summer if you’re planning your next vacation there.”

“I'm good. I’d take foggy mornings over the sun trying to burn me into a crisp, thank you very much.”

James smiled. “Mary pretty much said the same thing. I have a feeling you’d love it there, too.”

“How about you, though? Did you like it there?”

The question itself was not a challenge. She was not mocking him. She was genuinely curious. Mauve wondered if he was as cagey as Mary had once claimed him to be. She had experience with men like him, she thought. She knew how to make them cough it up.

“It was nice,” he told her. He almost sounded like he meant it.

Mauve rolled her eyes. Of course, she could see through him. “Sure. And I’m Barbra Streisand.”

“You don’t believe me?”

"Call me crazy, but no."

Something was happening behind James' eyes, but she had no idea what. "Okay, I guess you're crazy."

Mauve arches a fine eyebrow. "Am I though?"

James leaned back in his chair, his chest expanding as he breathed deeply. Any other day, he would have swatted her question with his usual grim, self-evasive ease, but tonight, he leaned forward; faint amusement settled over his face, their nose merely inches from one other, and muttered,

“Can you keep a secret, Mauve?”

Something very odd crowded Mauve’s face before her mouth flexed into a wide, knowing smile. “Yeah?”

“Actually, I happened to find the place rather dull,” he said and it was like untying someone else’s thick scarf from his throat.

That's a new thing about him: courage. It wasn’t really in his nature to escalate, to take the bait, yet here he was.

Mauve was silent for a beat. The smile still lingered on her face as she leaned back, her eyes were huge, disbelieving- like he’d just woken up from a coma and sputtering nonsense in another language or something.

“My, my, James Sunderland…” she said, mouth still curling in a smug grin. “I knew you had it in you. I just knew it."

Later, in the car on his way home with Mary, she asked him what he and Mauve had been talking about.

“Oh, we were talking about Silent Hill,” James answered her. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but neither it was the truth and Jesus fuck, Mauve was right; he really had it in him. He really was that person and he didn’t know what to feel about that.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mauve follows him out of the cafe, hands shoved deep inside her pockets.

“When do you think you’ll be visiting her again?” she asks, eyes blinking up at his ridiculously tall frame.

James reaches for his umbrella from the umbrella stand, puts it up and offers to share it with her. She joins him wordlessly.

“I haven’t really thought about it. Soon, perhaps,” he answers as they walk along the sidewalk. “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, I got here by bus."

He stops abruptly. "What? Can't you call your Jayden to pick you up or something?"

"No, Jay's out of the country. Just drop me off at the stop and you can go,” Mauve says, jerking her thumb towards the bus stop not far from where his old Pontiac is parked parallel to the curb. “I'll be fine, James. No one has ever pulled a Speed on every bus I rode in so far."

They start walking again, but he doesn't seem happy with her answer.

"Where are you heading?"

Mauve resists the urge to roll her eyes. “What, you’re offering to play chauffeur for the rest of the evening?”

“I won’t leave you out here in the rain, if that’s what you’re asking.”

"Technically, you wo-"

"Mauve, come on." James looks sidelong at her, a pleading note in his voice. "Let me do this for you. It's not like I have much to do at the moment, anyway."

She sighs. There's no talking her way around this, she thinks.

"Fine. There’s this bar a few blocks from here. You know, the one’s adjacent to the motel?”

They're stopping again. He glances at her in surprise.

"The Brightwater Inn?" James asks, chuckling when he does. Mauve nods, but she looks at him like there’s some inside joke she isn’t getting. “Sorry. I’m actually about to head there.”

“Seriously?” And James nods. “Well, what are the odds? It looks like you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.”

James smiles gently at her. “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They’re sitting side by side at the bar. He’s facing her while she glances up at the shelves— the bottles showcased like stones, reflecting in the low light.

He ordered them gin, straight over ice witha wedge of lime while she had to make a quick stop to the restroom.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she'd said as James flagged down the bartender and for lack of anything else, he did.

“Whoa. Holy shit. That’s- that’s really strong. And I’m pretty sure that’s only gin,” Mauve says now as she chokes down a sip. “You drink your gin like this?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty uncommon, I know, but trust me when I say it’s the best way to enjoy it.”

“Please, tell me you’re joking.”

He could laugh; instead, he grins, small, yet it tells her that he is humoring her. “I wish I were. I've been drinking it straight for as long as I can remember."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone who drinks gin straight," Mauve says out loud, kinda laughing. She takes another sip and winces. “Gah. This is awful, but I can’t stop drinking it.” Another sip. “Okay, never mind. I think it’s growing on me.”

James is watching her intently. His curiosity is ever-present. Years ago, he saw a double pendulum at a science center. The nonlinear motions fascinated him, which was unusual from any model of regular pendulums he’d seen before; the very appearance of chaos. The pendulum is here, today, embodying the very woman sitting next to him.

He chances one last look at Mauve, and then goes to throw back his drink in one chest-burning swallow. The inside of his bottom lip feels numb from the gin. He bites it down, hard, willing for the pain to the surface.

It never comes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning sun drenched his bedroom Tuscan gold. James woke up, hungover and miserable, to the sound of the telephone ringing on the bedside table.

He blindly reached for the handle and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello.”

“Son, hey. Did I wake you?”

James sat up in his bed.

“Dad?” he cleared his throat, voice hoarse and underused. “No. No, no, I was just, uhm…” he trailed off. He couldn’t handle hearing his dad’s voice. Not now.

“I called the office earlier, and they said you aren’t in?"

"Yes." Blurry eyes glanced at the alarm clock. 9:20 am. Fuck. "Yes, I'm taking PTO, dad." Fucking shit.

“I see.” A pause. “James, are you sure you're alright?”

“Dad, come on—"

“Well, forgive me for making a fuss out of this, but can you blame me? I haven’t seen you in weeks, let alone hear from you and now you sound distinctly hungover- from what I can tell, you don't seem okay."

His hand knotted tight in his hair, it was shaking. Fuck, he was going to lose it. He was going to have a breakdown on a call with his father on a Wednesday morning.

“I am okay, dad.” The words coming out of his mouth were not his. “I guess I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

He heard his dad sigh on the other end. “Son, I told you you don’t have to go through this alone,” Frank reminded him, almost rueful. “I’m here for you, but I can't help you if you keep shutting me out.”

"I know,” James said, mouth full of tears, but he would not shed them. His pride, shredded as it was, refused. “Thanks, dad. I appreciate it."

But what Frank Sunderland didn’t know is that it was too late; nobody had heard James, as he lay moaning, much too far out all his life and not waving, but drowning.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Another thing:

James now drops his glass noisily on the counter, he and Mauve are pleasantly drunk. The bar is packed now and they have continued to drink. It’s a classic recipe for disaster. If he was smart enough (and good enough, and fill-in-the-blank enough) he’d make a cease to this, walk out of the door, catch the cab and go home.

But he isn’t. James Sunderland wears many names and being good and smart aren’t one of them, unfortunately.

Maybe that’s why he first allows this to happen; Mauve, still holding the glass and still pretty much looking at him (she rotated her body to face him on her third glass, their knees almost touching), as she asks, “I don’t think you answered my question.”

James fixes her with a look, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “I… I didn’t?”

“At the cafe," Mauve elaborates, even-toned. "I asked you how you were and you didn’t answer.”

James’ mouth curls softly into a tortured smile only to grow corrosive. In all honesty, he’s been bracing himself for this, a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate whenever she feels like it.

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth. “I think I told you I was fine.”

“Which is a cop-out answer."

“I know.” His smile falls. James looks away coldly, firmly, but without malice. “What do you want me to say, Mauve?”

“The truth?” She shrugs, like it’s self-evident. “Or at least a sliver of it? I don’t know, isn't it exhausting keeping everything bottled up to yourself?”

“I’m fine.”

She snorts. “Right. You keep telling yourself that and you might as well patent it and turn it to a… I don’t know, a James Sunderland soundbite.”

“Shut up,” James snaps. He sounds like a child. He doesn’t quite know how to behave around her at the moment. He shuts his eyes at the look of hurt she’s sending him. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Mauve, don’t,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why not? I’m trying to do you a favor here,” she argues, steely and unyielding.

James opens his eyes and lifts them back to her. Is she even serious?

“Mauve, I’m not going to use you as a…” he gesticulates. “As an emotional punching bag just because my life is falling apart. I’m not—” Mary, what he meant to say, but he’s not crazy enough for that. “I’m not that cruel.”

The brunette stares at him carefully. James wants to look away but he won’t let himself.

“Use me.”

He blinks stupidly slow, once, twice, thrice and he can’t think of anything besides the context juxtaposed to the words.

Shit. James thinks he might be a little drunker than he first realized. Which brings us back to the part where he should stop drinking and go home, but he’s not going to do that.

“What?”

“Use me,” she repeats, looking straight into his confused green eyes. "as your emotional punching bag. Talk to me. Heck, you can lash out at me if you want. Just lay it all on me.”

"No,” he spits the word out. “No, I refuse to do that."

"Why not?"

“Because that's not fair for you,” James counters. His mouth thins, his shoulders tensed, like he wants to run away. It’s all performance, though, considering he’s still here.

“James, when the fuck has life ever treated us fairly, honestly?”

James twitches his shoulder. She’s hit a nerve and he knows that she knows it. He can feel his resolve crumbling. Underneath it all, he misses it, talking, having someone to listen to him, to understand, so he starts to talk and it’s like word vomit, a book that’s been opened and its spine has been completely torn apart.

He tells Mauve everything; about his new routine, going to bed hungover and waking up drunk. It’s not pretty, but it’s enough to mute the pain for a few hours. Sometimes, he thinks he forgets how it feels to be James Sunderland, not simply an extension of Mary’s misery and he hates her for it. He’s not a good man, he’s well aware of that for so long, but he’s never really called it by name until now and he’s not sure what to do about that.

On one hand, James is miserable, exhausted and frustrated. He went to a bar last month intending to get jackhammered shit into the weekend. He nearly fucked a woman there. He didn’t really know what he was thinking except maybe, just maybe, he could hurt Mary like this. That there’s some sort of twisted bastardization he could subscribe to just to punish her except he backed off the minute he got into the bathroom with her. He couldn’t do it. Maybe there’s still hope for his morals, or maybe he wasn’t simply drunk enough to be able to sink this low, but it doesn’t matter. He's adrift now; a planet without its orbit and he’s going to collide into something absolutely destructive. He knows he will. It's only a matter of time.

"Jesus, James," Mauve manages after a while.

He returns to his drink. He thinks he very much wishes he could sink into the floor and cry his eyes out, but the thought disappears as soon as it comes.

"Do you know what Mary told me this time? The last time I visited her?" James finally says. Mauve doesn’t think she wants to know. "She told me she was not happy. And I thought who would be, when you’re chained to your bed 24/7 from a terminal disease? But then she clarified that she wasn’t happy with me. She doesn’t think my love is sincere, that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed for her is only performance because I’ve nowhere else to go- and she wasn’t not even on her meds at the time.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, James.” Mauve tries to change the mood, steering the conversation the way she only knows how.

James shakes his head briefly. He doesn’t believe her. He refuses to believe her.

“I don’t know, Mauve. It didn’t seem like it to me.”

“James,” Mauve says softly. Heartaches and misery is definitely not a look she’d want to see on him. “Come on. Don’t say that.”

Someone told him, a long time ago, that love is a game you should play with all your cards, and all your dice and whatever else you have in your pockets. When you love, you have to give them everything you have. He did that with Mary— still does. He laid his entire life at her feet, but now… now old routines begin to feel more like an obligation than a cocoon.

How could this happen? He can still recall feeling so happy and content with her, not just the illusion of it and have they changed that much, and he’s only noticing it now? Do people really change that fast? Is she even capable of change, given her current state? He has so many questions.

"Sometimes, I can’t tell if the pain I’d have without having her with me, would be less than the pain I get from being with her. Yet I still love her. I don’t know how that is possible despite everything she’s done to me, but I do.” James lifts his eyes to Mauve. “Am I crazy for feeling this way?”

“No,” she says. Her voice almost overlaps his, passing on the word to him like an invocation. “Trust me, you’re not crazy.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“So, you know why I drink, why do you?” he asks nearly half an hour later.

The bartender stops by to deposit their drinks on the counter and leave. Mauve reaches for her glass. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sips, slow and considering.

“It’s the same as why any of us did it in the first place, I guess.” Mauve shrugs. “To take away the pain and all that.”

“Yeah.” His voice is small. James thinks with startling clarity despite the drink in his hand that maybe, just maybe, he and she are not so different. “I’m sorry you feel that way, though.”

“You too. Who knew life would turn out this way, huh?”

“Yeah,” James says again. He cranes his head to her when he hears her sigh. "You can tell me, you know? If you want." He adds, “Use— you can talk to me. I’m all ears.”

Mauve pulls a face. "Isn't it a little late on my part for another soul-baring confession for the night?"

He turns to fully face her again. "Well, in case you still haven't noticed, I've got all the time in the world.”

She frowns. James doesn't know what that's supposed to mean. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. She silently debates what to say. Mauve wasn’t planning on showing her cards to him, but he offers it like a dare, like his words are the only rope that would swing her to the other or she’ll tumble into the abyss if she said no.

“Has Mary ever told you anything about me?” she asks, breaking the quiet. “Anything at all?”

“Well.” James clears his throat. “She did once mention something about your father and I assume your relationship with him isn’t exactly…” he hesitates. “ Ideal?”

Mauve starts laughing.

“Ideal is an understatement of the century, but okay, sure, I’d take ideal,” she says. “I know you and yours are close, though.”

“Yeah. We get along just fine, I guess.” He shrugs a shoulder, thinking back of the conversation James had with Frank a few weeks ago. He wonders if he’s okay. If he’s hated him yet.

“I can tell he cares a lot about you.” And James doesn’t move. It’s awful that he knows that. “I remember seeing your old man going all misty-eyed and grinning like the proud father he is at your wedding. It’s really wholesome.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. Rather, polishing off his third drink and contemplating a fourth. James decides he will check in on his dad in the morning.

“My old man, on the other hand,” she continues. “He’s a��� I don’t even know what he is, really.”

“What’s he like?”

James watches her attempt to steel herself; the corners of her mouth grow slant. Mauve moves her glass to her left hand, her eyes unfocused and red-rimmed.

“He’s selfish, a bred-in-the-bone gambler who only cares about more about what he can spend than what he can earn,” she says, and she thinks, embarrassingly, Christ’s sake, of all the daddy issue cliches.

“When I was fifteen, he forced me to work a double shift to keep the dough rolling in the household. I had no idea that he gambled everything - everything I toiled and sweated for for his own pleasure. I confronted him about this and he hit me. He hit the only person who cares for him. I ran away since and have never returned.”

Sympathy slots inside of him. His jaw works; he utters, “I’m sorry, Mauve.”

“Yeah.” She’s crying now, her face flushed with something that makes James’ heart compress. “Sometimes I wish mom hadn’t died. I don’t know, I thought,” she says, then stops. “Shit, I guess it wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You don’t know that.”

"Maybe, but I don't know." She sighs shakily. "And you know what’s worse, though? That even after everything, I can’t deny him. Heck, I still care for him, even. He called last week, asking if he could borrow some money and I couldn’t say no,” Mauve confesses. She’s jittery, almost manic. “God, I’m so pathetic.”

James doesn’t know what to say, he truly doesn't. He has no clue with this Mauve when she’s drunk; all self-loathing and volatile. He didn’t know this side of her even exists in the first place, it honestly scares him.

“Mauve, hey.” But she’s raising her drink to her mouth again, gin sloshing out of the glass over her hand. “Mauve, look at me.” When Mauve doesn’t obey, James cups her face and tilts her to face him. “Stop this.” The alcohol leaves him angrier, there’s a force in his voice that finally commands her attention as Mauve looks at him, albeit dimly. “You’re not pathetic, okay? There’s nothing wrong in wanting to love those who’ve hurt us.”

“But that’s not right, isn’t it? They don’t deserve our love.”

James sighs a long-suffering sigh. “No, they don’t,” he says, running an idle thumb along her cheek. “We deserve more than this.”

“I… yeah." she sniffles loudly into his hand. People are watching now. They could give a rat’s ass about it, though. “Yeah, we do.”

“We don’t deserve any of this.” His face looms close to hers. Something rings on the back of his head, but he can’t tell what it is. His forehead pressed against hers and his hands drop from her face beneath the counter, gripping her smaller ones.

James can feel her breath on his face this close. She can feel his, too; warm and gin-stale against her mouth. They’re too close. Their hands still knotted together. He knows they’re going to do something entirely foolish but it’s too good, too much of a satisfying remedy to the misery they’ve been feeling. This feels wrong, this feels right and it never occurred to his inane, alcohol-induced, touch-starved self just exactly how much he misses this, something as mundane as body heat.

“You and I deserve more than this,” he says again as if it’s something sacred, straight out of a holy book or whispered by the gods themselves and Mauve pulls back. Something switched behind her eyes.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changes, goes taut and heavy. For a moment Mauve goes still and so does James, like they've just stepped on a landmine and are just waiting for the explosion.

For a minute, they just look at each other, and he finds his gaze dropping to her mouth, the spot right in the center that is wet from tears and gin, the white edge of a tooth. He wants so badly to smear her lipstick all over her lips, but he doesn't.

Instead he kisses her.

And she kisses him back. Eager, hot and not entirely coordinated. Kissing her is much worse and better than he imagined it would be and he’s not entirely sure what he wants, or what she wants at this point, but that hardly matters now.

The lines have been crossed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

James once heard a saying:

With every person we meet, we run the risk of taking a little piece of them with us.

Perhaps it’s inevitable— unfair, even, that others can use our skin to bury their stories in and there’s nothing we can do about it. And there is always that outcome, a question that does not take shape and it’s always far too late until it dawns on you that maybe, just maybe, life would have been easier if you never met them.

(He only tells himself this because he's hurting, but really, he’s only fooling himself at this point. He knows he's fucked)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

So, none of this is supposed to happen- that, he's certain— but it's happening none of the less.

And now, they’re in the back seat on his Pontiac. She’s on top of him, her lips against his jaw, his neck, smearing lipstick with every kiss and all James can do is dazedly stare up at the headliner.

His first line of defense is this: he has never thought of Mauve like this. Even as he holds her hips and gently rocks her against him; mind lost. He’s painfully hard. She bucks against him and she’s making these high-pitched, little whimpers against his skin that spurs him on.

He moves to her ass and squeezes hard, rough enough to bruise. Mauve yelps and she grips at the back of his neck to pull him for another kiss, filthy and rough just like how he handles her. How he ruts against her and yes, this is really happening. He’s really going down this road with her.

“Use me,” Mauve pants against, into, his mouth. He can taste the salt and alcohol in her mouth and all he thinks is the ocean. “Fuck me, James.”

And so, he does. His hands are clumsy, out of practice as they slide inside her short skirt, as he yanks her underwear down her hips, past her knee. His fingers skim up the flesh of her thighs as James bunches her skirt up.

It’s him who groans when he touches her, wet and warm against his fingers. He shuts his eyes. The flat of his palm grinds against her, the band of his wedding ring getting slick with her want (and she does want this. She bucks down onto his hand, desperate for some relief. She will table just how wrong and fucked up this is in the morning) before he slips his fingers inside her.

He feels her jerk against him. He opens his eyes and watches as she trembles, moans, clenches hard around his fingers. Her own ones in his hair, scratches and pulls and digs into his scalp and James grunts hard against the junction of her neck, fucks her harder, more deliberate with his fingers and pushes and pushes her so far onto the edge until—

"Fuck! ”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

If he closes his eyes, he wonders if it would be possible to imagine that it's his wife's head bobbing up and down on his shaft, that he hasn't broken any promises yet. But even his illusions can't save him from this. It's still Mauve's mouth sucking him off, her brunette strands he's twisting in his hand.

But his mind is too winder and slippery, gin numb, so he lets them escape.

“Mauve, Mauve, Mauve,” James babbles. His eyes opening and shutting, his brain stalls. His tongue burning up. He can’t remember if they have locked the car, if the windows are tinted enough to hide them. For a single breath, he imagines getting caught and a low moan catches in his throat.

“Mauve,” he manages again, his voice twisted low and pleading. “Shit. Come here.” He reaches down and tugs her by the hair. Her mouth disconnects from him with an audible pop. “Get back on my lap.”

She obeys wordlessly. James sheds his jacket and shirt, she frantically pulls her t-shirt over her head. He shoves her bra down her chest as she settles back atop him. His mouth closes around her breast and bites softly, his teeth dragging through the flesh, taking a nipple.

"Use me," Mauve begs and he's too broken and selfish to deny her.

She settles onto him slowly, he guides her until he's fully inside her.

"I'm doing it," he snarls against her sternum. She shouldn't feel this good, he thinks. Something that'll be bound to bury him shouldn't feel like this, yet he wants this, right? In fact, he initiated this. "I'm doi— I'm fucking you."

He kisses her as she starts moving. She bites and takes and lets her nails scratch red lines across his chest. They both have the same foreign concept of intimacy. They both are lonely. Her body arched back. He watches her throat work as she moans.

Without thinking, James raises his hand and wraps it around the warm skin of her throat.

She gasps, he feels the way her throat bobs as she swallows. He doesn’t move, gauging her reaction. Her face is lit by something he can’t recognize. She wants this as much as he does and his head is so intoxicated by her taste, her smell, her heat, but it's easy to blame it on the alcohol.

Mauve covers his hand around her throat and squeezes, just faintly.

“Fuck. James, please.” And his dick throbs inside her and holy shit, what more can he want from her?

Wordlessly, he gives in. He gives her what she wants— what they both want. James starts to choke her.

His fingers cruelly dig into her throat and he shows her, all the violence and darkness in him, what he’s capable of doing. Her mouth gapes open, her eyes black in the dark. Mauve’s making falling noises, desperate and encouraging. He chokes harder, revelling how power surges through him. She picks up the pace and his other hand grasps at her waist, trying to match her rhythm.

“James," she gasps out, her words barely audible. “Oh god, James.”

James groans a shapeless word against her jaw. “Keep moaning my name like that.”

At this rate, he fully expects her to swat his hand away, but Mauve bites through it. Her body spasms and she comes apart before him, pressing her lips to her ear, biting hard on his earlobe, whispering brokenly between choked breaths: “ James.”

And he follows her over the edge like that. He collapses like a dying star as James spills into her, moaning into her shoulder. His hand still presses around her throat before he lets go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Promise me that you’ll take care of me. You said ‘in sickness and in health.’ you said that. That was a promise, James,” Mary muttered.

It was years ago, it was yesterday, it was two weeks ago. The thing is, time behaves differently when you stop paying attention; your days and weeks and years bleed into the next.

For the first time in his life, the words rang more like a chain to the feet than an oath. James opened his mouth, only to stop himself. He dropped her gaze and held his mouth tight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The horror, guilt and self-loathing is slow crawling before it hits him like a sucker-punch in the gut.

James remains frozen in the back seat of his car, fully aware of whose sleeping head rests on his shoulder. He keeps staring at the window he cracked open hours ago. The temperature in the car has dropped significantly now. He does absolutely shit nothing to resolve this issue.

He closes his eyes again.

James suffers in silence. It’s the realization of what he’s just done, that he chose to do this and… Oh, god, this is real and it’s permanent. He can’t take this back. James thinks that the worst of this all is that he wants to do it again. He really does. He thinks about taking her back to his apartment. Perhaps she’d let him take her against the kitchen counter. Perhaps he’d let her eat her out until her body won’t stop shaking. It’s easier than thinking about anything else.

Just then Mauve’s phone rings. He feels her stir next to him, but dozes back off.

“Mauve.” He shakes her once, and then again, harder. “Mauve, wake up.”

She does, her face scrunches up as she blinks owlishly at him. James can clearly see the still marks his hand left around her throat. He did that. He hurt her.

“Huh?” she croaks.

“Your phone,” he tells her, and she nods, struggling to rifle through her bag for her cellphone. The ringing stops when she finally finds the pitiful device.

Suddenly, he feels her tensing.

"Shit.” He can hear the panic in Mauve’s voice. She scrambles up, clad only in her coat and panties, staring at the small screen of her cellphone with half-shut eyes. “Shit. I have to return this call.”

"Oh. Sure." He hears himself say. “Do you want me to step outside for a bit?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

He shakes his head. Makes himself shrug. He needs some alone time to sort out whatever bullshit he finds himself in, anyway.

“Of course not.” James reaches for his shirt and jacket at his feet. Her eyes are on him as he gets dressed. She seems distant now. Closed off in a way he’s never seen her before. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure.” And he steps outside into the night. The last thing he hears before he closes the rear door is: “Jay? Hi, babe. Sorry, I didn’t answer earlier-” and James feels sick.

It’s not long before a rap on the window pulls him out his musings. James flicks away his cigarette, he shuffles back inside his car, finding Mauve already dressed back in her clothes.

"I have to go," she tells him, refusing to meet his eyes. Hands knotted together in her lap.

"Okay." He looks at her, wondering if he peers long enough he would see the accusation in her eyes, if she blames him for this. "I'll drive you back."

James doesn’t wait for her reply. He moves to the driver’s seat the way a man finds out he’s been sentenced to death and accepts his fate in acquiesce. He starts the car.

Mauve’s hand, shaking and cold, touches the pulse at her throat.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You have one new voicemail.

“Mauve, it’s Mary, I— Oh dear, I think I found something I wasn’t supposed to find. Hint: it’s round and has a diamond on it and it’s so beautiful, Mauve. I think it’s his mother’s but I’m not sure… counting your chickens before they hatch will make things worse, I know, but… God, I feel like cavorting around and squealing like crazy! [laughing] Please call me back as soon as you hear this. I desperately need your input. I will be waiting.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They barely say a word the whole ride to her hotel.

Mauve’s still in the back seat, silent, nursing a headache, watching out of the window like she’s about to cry. She doesn’t, though. Not until he pulls up in front of her building, at least.

Neither says anything. The elephant in the fucking car remains untouched. James tries to catch her eyes from the rear-view mirror. Eventually, they find his. Her face reflects his own: fear.

He chokes on the words that threaten to come out of his mouth— it's all my fault, I didn't mean for any of this to happen . The back of his head is vertiginous. Mary's words ricochet truer and louder than ever, maybe she's been right all along. That maybe his love for her is not real.

She's the one to give first. "We shouldn't have done that."

James drags a hand over his face. "I know."

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Mauve gasps again- chokes, really. “Oh god, what were we— James, what have we done? How could we do this to… to Mary?— and Jay, oh my god."

He strives so hard not to recoil in his seat. But it's impossible not to react when someone is pointing a gun at his face.

"I know." James closes his eyes. "And I didn't even use a—" He ducks his head low. Elbows on the steering wheel, his arms are thrown over his head, like he's trying to escape a collapsing house. "Mauve, please, please, tell me you're on the pill."

“I am. Believe me, that’s not going to be an issue.” Her voice is so quiet, there are tears in her eyes.

“Okay. Good.” Something like relief swarms him, but it’s short-lived. His heart still feels like it’s being spaghettified. He presses his palms against his closed lids. “God, I’m so sorry.”

A choking sob escapes him before he hides his face in his hands. He didn’t mean to have a meltdown— least, in front of her, but he’s so tired and lost and angry at himself. He’s broken too many promises and crossed too many lines. He is abject, a shining example of moral depravity. He hates himself.

He doesn’t hear her move until she does, shifts forward in her seat and rests her forehead against the back of the driver’s headrest.

“Me too,” she breathes, choking on her own tears. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn't.”

James ignores her. “I started this. I shouldn’t have…” he clenches his teeth and sighs. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I didn’t stop you.”

“You were drunk. I was still co—”

“And I didn’t do anything to stop you!” Mauve snaps and James keeps quiet. “I could have pushed you away, I could have told you to stop, but I didn’t. It’s on me, too— it’s on us.”

"I'm sorry, nonetheless. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just…” he trails off.

“I know.” She breathes the words more than she says it, like she understands— and James really knows she does.

Hesitantly, James sniffs and leans back into his seat.

“Listen, Mauve,” he mutters lowly. He knows she’s still behind him, he can hear her breaths from here. “We can’t… no one can know.”

She laughs darkly, like there’s anything funny about their situation. “Oh, trust me, I’ll take this to my grave,” she says. “And I think it’s better if we don’t see each other for a while.”

His heart breaks, but he nods anyway. "Okay."

A long time ago, none of this would have mattered, but they have ruined everything now. And James doesn't know what he would do the next time he sees her, knowing how her body feels against and inside him. It’s too much.

She starts to leave, but he’s faster than her. She hasn’t even made it to the door when his hand, clenched around her covered forearm, ceases her in her place. Mauve flinches.

“James?” she asks.

“Mauve, I…” James trails off. Then, his eyes glide to her face, as if trying to memorize it. The small gap between her front teeth, her too-bright eyes. He thinks he can never say what he wants to say, but it’s better this way. It’s easier to pretend the unsayable never exists, anyway; shoehorned somewhere on the margin of his mind, lost and hidden.

Mauve stares at him curiously. There is something on his face that makes her pay attention, that stops her. It's not his genial eyes that she always searches for during one of her family's gatherings or the way they openly seared hers, hours ago; primed and loaded with want underneath her. It’s something different. Something shriveled and defeated.

She opens her mouth, he assumes she’s going to say something, but she only kisses him. Their lips touch, briefly, for one last time and he shudders. Unbeknownst to either how this will become the final moment between Mauve and James before they find him, months later, after he drove the car they'd fucked in, filled with Mary's body, into Toluca Lake.

But for now, they have this.

“Promise me, you'll take care of yourself, okay?” she whispers against his mouth now.

"I will. I promise,” he says and before he can add anything else, she’s gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mauve was to leave for college. Her plane left for Sea-Tac that evening.

Mary and some of her cousins had insisted on driving her to the airport, even though Mauve told them she would return every Christmas. For once, James found that he didn’t want to miss this moment.

“I suppose this is goodbye for now.”

James crossed the wide distance between them, his face was strangely contemplative. “Yeah. I really hope Seattle will treat you well, Mauve.”

“Thanks. Sure it’s a long way from home, but I’ll be fine,” she said, then added: “I think.”

“You’ll be fine. I know you will.”

A breath of nervous laughter from her, her mouth kinked upward and beautiful. “Says you.”

“You will. I believe in you— we all believe in you,” he told her, placing a hand onto her shoulder.

Something like melancholy stuck inside her, threatening to delude her. Mauve felt tears stinging her eyes, then before she could think it through, she propelled herself into James’ arms and even caught him off guard. His arms slowly snaked around her smaller form and she held onto him, tightly; eyes closed. His warm breath fanned the crown on her head, and then it was over.

When he pulled back, he smiled, wistful.

“Take care of yourself, Mauve,” he said.

“I will. I promise,” she said.

fin.

[novamirmirsblog]

Mission gone right

Hi guysss. This is 18+ ty :3

Word count: 1596

Genre: Smut, kinda dark? R is bad basically

Request: no

Warnings: Wanda sex magic, swearing, alcohol (think that's it)

A/N: we got votes for both angst and smut so I kinda combined both? I feel like this isn't angsty enough so imma write something super angsty next. Then I'll go back and do some more spidey duo xxx

"What to do, what to do, what to do..." You paced back and forth around your living room. "Ugh!" throwing your hands up in the air, you flopped down on the sofa, leaving your legs dangling over the arm. Switching on the TV, you saw that there was a new display at an art gallery. You looked around your walls and saw nothing as pretty as the painting on the TV.

"I guess one more couldn't hurt..."

The TV then changed to show that the Avengers were making a special appearance considering Tony Stark owned the gallery and it was it's opening night.

With newfound determination, you got dressed in a red dress with a neckline that dropped all the way to just above your navel and a slit that went all the way up to the middle of your left thigh. The dress gave you the freedom to move but still looked like it was just something pretty to wear. You grabbed your clutch (because god forbid a woman has pockets) and headed out.

~~~~~

Soft music played as people with more money than sense wandered around the gallery. Women wore pearls loosely and men had watches just begging to be taken. You had to focus. You were there for one reason and one reason only. The oil painting apparently cost millions. You didn't really care about that - it was a nice touch, sure - but not the reason you wanted it. You told yourself it was because it was a pretty picture but maybe it was more to do with the fact a pretty mindreader was going to be there tonight.

So far, you had done well to avoid the guards and cameras. You had stolen from this place a few times before and you knew that they rarely changed their security because you had cameras on them. You had seen a few of 'Earth's mightiest heroes' and had tried to ignore the disappointment you felt when it wasn't Wanda.

It's not like the two of you had history, but you were at HYDRA when the twins were too. You were a failed experiment. Your powers were useful, but not useful enough. They also took a little time to form. Time that Strucker didn't want to waste. You, Wanda and Pietro spent about a year together before they went to the 'good side' and you delved deeper into what your powers could do for you. You'd think that HYDRA would love the fact you could convince people of anything and erase all traces that you had ever been somewhere, but apparently they weren't looking for spies, they had enough of those.

You strolled around until you made it to the bathroom, waiting there for the rest of the evening. You had everything planned, walk up to the picture, take it from it's frame and leave out the front door. Everything was going according to plan until you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey! What are you doing there!" You opened your mouth to speak but you were grabbed and dragged round the corner and into a storage room.

It was Wanda.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Wanda whisper shouted as guards jogged past our hiding place.

"Same as you apparently." You realised Wanda hadn't noticed how close the two of you were, cupoards were very small...

"You just fucked up my night out."

"Sorry darling, at least my night is going splendidly." You winked and leaned in closer, watching as the anger transformed to lust on her face.

You were taller than Wanda by maybe half a head so she had to look up at you as she tried to formulate a reason to get out of there. Technically, she didn't even have to be there. She could walk out right now and the guards wouldn't even bat an eye and yet something was making her stay.

You moved slightly and Wanda groaned ever so faintly. It was so quiet that you would have missed it if you hadn't been so close to her. You then realised that your leg was conveniently placed between Wanda's, and what can you say? The storage cupboard was small. It wasn't your fault.

Okay, it was maybe a little bit your fault.

"Oh darling, has no one been taking care of you?" You mocked, leaning in and whispering over the shell of her ear "Want me to take care of that?"

Wanda froze even more. Her mind was racing so fast that there was no possible way for her to read yours even though she was desperate to do so. She hadn't seen you in forever but when she glanced over when Tony was telling her a particularly boring story, she couldn't help but gasp at how beautiful you were. Wanda had hoped that you were just there to admire the art work but she knew, deep down, that that would be too good to be true.

"Cat got your tongue?" You were unaware of the turmoil you caused for Wanda. Too focused on your own fun and the way her suit hugged her in all the right places. You wanted nothing more than to fuck her there and then. You didn't want a meaningful relationship with Wanda, just something physical. The two of you were occasional fuck buddies when you were both at HYDRA - the relationship turning slightly toxic very quickly.

You both liked to see how quickly one could get the other jealous. Whether that meant flirting with other people and making sure the other one saw, or just outright sleeping with whoever was nearest. While it seemed that Wanda had grown out of that toxicity, finding love with a glorified Alexa, you never had.

"Why save me darling? I can handle myself."

"You were two seconds from being caught" It was a little disheartening to hear her accent slipping, the last little piece that reminded you of the Wanda she used to be.

"No. No I wasn't." you lifted her chin up and spoke into her neck "I don't need you to save me."

Wanda let out another groan, much louder this time as her hips bucked on your thigh.

"Shhh" You chuckled lowly "We don't want anyone to hear you, right?"

You grabbed her hips and kissed her. It was rough and fast. Wanda whimpered and began grinding harder, trying to get more friction. One hand traced lightly on Wanda's thigh and the other tugged at her waistband. Wanda got rid of them instantly with her magic and you slipped your hand into her panties.

"Shit sweetheart, your toaster not giving you the satisfaction you need?"

"I don't want to think about him" Wanda let out with a slight growl, her accent getting heavier again, like how it was when you knew her.

"Sweetheart when I'm done with you, you wont think of anything else for months."

"God you're a cocky bitch. You're all talk and no action."

"No?" You pushed two fingers into her. You weren't feeling nice enough to start off slow and she was wet enough for it anyway.

Wanda's back arched as she let out a moan and you kissed her chest, her blazer falling open to reveal an extremely unbuttoned shirt. She tried to push your hand further, desperately chasing her release but you pulled away, taking your hand and licking your fingers, watching as Wanda gulped.

"Please..."

"But darling, I think the guards are gone." You smirked as the witch basically threw a temper tantrum.

"So? I haven't felt this good in so long" Wanda shoved her own hand back to where yours was. It was strangely extremely hot to see her try and get back to her high. She suddenly opened her eyes and looked at you. You could see the red wisps surrounding you before you nearly doubled over, looking up at Wanda who wore an evil smile.

"Now you know how I feel. Are you going to get back to it?" Wanda had never done this before. When you had known her, she had little to no control over her powers, only being able to control things with her mind and read others thoughts. She had been practicing.

"Fuck you."

"Well yes, that's what I'm trying to get you to do."

You dropped to your knees and took the rest of her underwear off, slowly licking her as she swung a leg over your shoulder. "Shit y/n, just like that."

You worked your fingers in and out of her, feeling everything you were doing to her on yourself thanks to her magic. You got slightly sloppy as you both neared your climaxes. You suck and bit along her thigh and on her clit until you felt her clench around your fingers. You both saw stars as her magic continued to fuck you, drawing out your orgasms until you were both sweaty messes.

~~~~~

You never did get the painting that night. You didn't really get anything you wanted that night. You sat on the top of your building, one leg swinging and a bottle of something strong in your hand, just watching the city buzz at night. As you sat there watching the tiny people come home from their jobs to their loving families, you wondered if you could have had something like that with Wanda. Then you laughed as you remembered that she was probably wrapped up in the arms of Siri, taking another swig from the bottle, you got up and prepared for your next job.

[abnormallyo-a-k]

guys guys please vote terrick I'm absolutely begging you

I'll do whatever you want, I can write fics I can draw (I'm working on requests as we speak) ILL DO ANYTHING PELASE VOTE TERRICK

my reasons?

they were best friends. they were absolutely best friends, Terry called Nicky his best friend. they were BEST friends and Terry IMMEDIATELY regretted what he did in the betrayal. it so clearly haunted him for years, considering the moment he died he hunted down Glenn to give himself the comeuppance he felt he deserved. He was ready, willing, and WANTED to pay for what he did. They so clearly have so much potential, a friends to enemies to lovers? mutual pining? betrayal turned love? GUYS THINK IT THROUGH

the potential, the angst, the working through things and the soft shit that could follow

give them a chance oh how I beg let me add to the propaganda, take my favourite headcanons : - When Terry had his goth phase in highschool, he taught himself to do makeup and dye hair. Whenever Nicky wasn't doing well or having difficulty dealing with the whole fucky timeline stuff, Terry would invite him over and basically do that hair therapy thing where he'd end up dying it to match whatever his own hair colour was at the time - and do some punkish makeup on him. - Terry held onto Nicky's inhalers for as long as he could until they expired after the betrayal, hoping that he could have them on hand if Nicky ever came back. Goes hand in hand with my other of he keeps the nameplate that was on his office door at DADDIES in a filing cabinet in his own office so it didn't get thrown away. - During highschool on, Nicky was one of the main people (aside from Terry's parents) who drove Terry around. Poor guy never got over that nat one. Nicky would tease the hell out of him and bitch and moan about it each time but he'd always be outside the stampler household waiting to pick him up. - Because of the fact Lark and Sparrow did NOT like "Nicholas" and his narc ways and because Grant was uh... not exactly all there after the chimera incident- I imagine that Terry and Nicholas spent a good bit of time together in Ravenloft. Part of it was to keep the twins away from Nicky because Terry was like a 13 year group mom but also because I think they had been like at least somewhat friends in the Jodie timeline before the soccer game. - And I mentioned this one in one of my posts but I stand by the idea that Terry was Nicky's best man at his wedding, and that he still has the photos of that day in his home office. He wanted Nicky to be his own, but then the betrayal happened and everyone split apart, and I don't think Terry had a best man when he married Veronica. - Nicky (As both Nick and Nicholas) had been Terry's unoffical "Second in Command" in Ravenloft. It was entirely different for both timelines as well. For Narcolas it was more of a "I'm gonna be bitchy to everyone, including you but it's different. Don't ask why. I'm your right hand man shut up- no this is happening because I'm so clearly fit to be in charge and not at all because I want to be around you more." and for Nicky it was just exactly what you'd picture it. Trying to do the same shit he did for Glenn in a different flavour and trying to find a way to impress Terry or get his attention. Trying to seem all cool and shit. Definitely more of a "Yeah I'm gonna bug the shit out of you so I can stay near you. You can not get rid of me because I will pester you nonstop, and because I just don't want to leave your side. Fuck you but hey stop walking away wait-" - Bonus: Nicky, post season 1 and when topside, would randomly show up to the stampler household unannounced and because Samantha is so good she just never questioned. Half the time Terry wouldn't be aware until he'd get up from his desk and turn around and scream at the sight of Nicky just lounging on his bed painting his nails. Nicky would then scold Terry for startling him and making him mess up his nails, as if he wasn't the one to scare the hell out of Terry.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Part XV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII, part XIII and part XIV.

Being Sebastian's boyfriend really isn't that much different from being his friend. They do a lot of the same things, and talk about the same stuff, only now there's hand-holding and kissing and cuddling with it. Apart from the touching though? Nothing really changes much.

Which kind of makes it sound like how it was with Blaine.

It's not though.

Sebastian will hold his hand in the hallway without worrying about being seen. And yes, Dalton is different from McKinley – so, so much different, and safer – but Blaine even hesitated to hold Kurt's hand in the choir room, surrounded by friends.

Sebastian kisses him in a way that never leaves Kurt doubting there's attraction, and has to stop his hands from wandering too far on a regular basis – yet never making Kurt worry he won't stop.

Sebastian makes Kurt have to stop himself, both from allowing it and from doing his own wandering. They're still too new to go there, no matter how much Kurt's hormones sit up and beg every time Sebastian touches him. (They'll get there, Kurt's sure, just... Step by step, and not yet.)

Sebastian reaches out for Kurt without looking – sometimes seemingly without thinking – to pull him close, and always makes a space for him.

And when Sebastian sings, it's with Kurt, or for him, not at him.

It's a far cry from scheduled make-outs and avoiding even PG13 levels of PDA and being made to feel like his boyfriend is more interested in his own hand than in Kurt.

It's amazing.

There's a rainbow rose hanging on Kurt's door on Valentine's day. He and Sebastian have been dating for two days – a day and a half, if he was to be picky – and Kurt knows from last year's insanity that there's not a flower shop within two hours of Vesterville that carries rainbow roses. They have to be ordered special, and with a lot more warning than two days.

Kurt's not the least bit ashamed about how he squeals, or how he turns on his heel and kisses his boyfriend (!) for long enough to be a little dizzy afterwards.

This isn't to say that Sebastian is a perfect boyfriend. He's not. Then again, neither is Kurt. He's working from romantic movies and the examples from the New directions, and of course from his time with Blaine. Neither is a good road map. Romantic movies have so many flaws Kurt don't really want to examine, and a lot of his favorites are set too far back in time to be useful as guidelines. The loves lives of his old glee mates are...well. They're flawed too, when seen without rose-colored glasses and envy.

As for his relationship with Blaine... Even if he's not counting how it ended that relationship was so very less than perfect, and honestly it was both their faults. Kurt's not without blame, he knows that and can admit it without somehow pretending what Blaine did wrong never happened.

So he's trying to learn from his mistakes, and other people's mistakes, and he does his best to communicate with Sebastian – who does the same in return.

Also, no one can say that they don't argue. They definitely do. They have from the beginning, and they're both opinionated passionate people, so why should they stop now? Their relationship has changed – they themselves haven't.

It's just that they manage to argue in a way that works. That doesn't makes Kurt pull out his claws to eviscerate Sebastian, that doesn't scare Kurt, or make him give in to “preserve the peace”. That, right there, was one of the things that had sent his relationship with Blaine down the wrong turn. When he'd first told his dad that he'd begun dating Blaine Burt Hummel had told him never to go to bed angry with his partner. He'd meant to sort out arguments and disagreements, but Kurt had interpreted it as needing to back down and push down his anger or hurt. With Sebastian he doesn't.

They argue, because that's who – and how – they are, but they do it in as mature and healthy way as they are able to, being teenagers. And they apologize if they step over the line. Not Kurt apologizes, regardless, with Sebastian pouting until he does, but both of them.

If Kurt had to, he'd call it damned near perfect. Instead he'll just say it's good, and he's happy.

That's never something to look down on.

The week of Regionals is weird. Kurt's never felt as prepared or as calm with a competition approaching, which is rather telling. The rest of the Warblers are a different story though. Kurt has made it clear that his primary goal is to beat the Troubletones, and his friends are feeling the pressure. They even ask if Kurt and Sebastian won't reconsider singing 'Human Nature'.

“Look, guys, I'm honored, really, that you would trust me, us like that. But I want to win more than I want that solo. And even if we ignore the fact that Ohio doesn't seem ready for a gay duet, I really do think the setlist we have is stronger as is. The Troubletones have a great presence, and both Mercedes and Santana are awesomely talented. However, everything about the Troubletones are built around them. The rest of the girls are background and dancing. If we go on with a number that's the same they are going to win, for no other reason than that most people find girls prettier and nicer to look at.

“But if we go on as an actual choir, for a show choir competition? We'll win. I'm sure of it. We've worked so hard with our songs, and I wouldn't change a thing about our setlist.”

And it's true. They have an amazing setlist, and everything flows in a way that makes Kurt feel practically professional, and he's not giving that – and its chance to win – up to stare longingly at Sebastian while singing a song that exposes them to the core.

No. Kurt's going to have quite a lot more time in the spotlight than he'd expected when turning down a proper solo. He's going to sing with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he's going to show McKinley what it means to be a team onstage.

The Troubletones are just as amazing onstage as Kurt thought. They've done a good job picking their songs, and Mercedes still has the best voice he's ever heard live. Santana's not quite as talented, but give her the right song – which these are – and she'll blow your mind. Their choreography showcases the girls poached from the Cheerios without making Mercedes look too far behind, and their clothes look good.

Kurt would vote for them any day, even with Rachel being given a place in the background, except this one. This is going to be his day. He meets Sebastians eyes as they line up and nods.

Showtime.

'I want You Back' does exactly what it's meant to, namely getting the audience in a party mood. As the last notes flows into the first from 'Man in the Mirror' the mood shifts and Kurt feels his own shift with it. His solo feels a little raw, because in no way can he sing those lines without being reminded of all the crap he's gone through over the past 6 months.

“...a willow deeply scared, somebody's broken heart and a washed out dream...”

Well. His heart might have been broken, and his dreams about Blaine did wash out. But he's got new dreams, and his hearts healed, and no matter the scars he's whole where it matters. And even if he wasn't? He's looking in the mirror, and he's changing.

They bring the party back with their last song, giving their all transforming the sounds of 'Beat It' to sounds that can be reproduced by the human throat. The dancing is the most demanding Kurt's ever done onstage, and he knows he will definitely be beat after. But they look and sound awesome, and that's all that matters.

Or maybe not, he ruefully thinks as he sees Finn on his feet, jumping up and down and whooping as the Warblers are proclaimed the winners and Rachel looks like she's been pelted with eggs again.

“You stole our songs!���

Of course. All Kurt wants to do is get on the bus, go back to Dalton and celebrate. Okay, shower, then celebrate. So naturally Rachel is waiting to ambush him. Well, that's not going to go the way she's probably thinking.

“Really? Really Rachel, you're going there? You know very well that we didn't steal anything. Oh, I know that there was a suggestion that the New Directions do Michael for Sectionals, but I also know that you were the one who refused to accept it.

“You really blew it there. Michael is a great choice for Sectionals or Regionals, what with the Ohio mindset, and I'm pretty sure you would have won with the setlist the guys suggested. I'm not surprised you put a stop to it though.”

Rachel draws back, looking first shocked, then insulted, then finally like an angry goose, complete with hissing sound. He's not letting it touch him though, lets it run over him, one might say, like water over a goose.

“There are no songs in Michael Jacksons discography that's a given for you, no certainty that you'll be featured. And in the end, that's what mattered, wasn't it? Not that the New Directions won, but that you won. You wanted to beat the Troubletones, didn't you? Wanted to show that you were better than Mercedes, wanted to prove that her beating you when auditioning for Maria was just a fluke. Wanted to prove what everyone knows, that's she's every bit as good as you, and sometimes better, is wrong.

“Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted in terms of the setlist and the spotlight, but you fucked up everything else. And not just for you, but for everyone.”

An expression of pain flies across Rachel's face, and he pushes the knife in a little bit further.

“We weren't as blind though. The minute Finn told me about the Michael setlist I knew it was a winner. As did the other Warblers. I asked Finn first, and Sam and Puck. They didn't think we needed their permission, as you didn't use the songs, but they gave it any way.”

Kurt looks at Rachel, looks at the way she's still fuming, still refusing to see any other side than her own. It won't matter what he says – she'll keep ignoring any and all arguments against her. Once he might have tried harder to make her understand, but as things are he just wants to leave. His boyfriend's waiting and that makes Kurt out of time to spend on his former friend.

“Your loss, our gain.”

He starts to leave, but thinks better of it. He's got one more jab in him.

“Oh, and Rachel? Don't worry. Going to Nationals is a privilege, and we won't waste it. We've already gotten started on a setlist.”

It's petty, but. So's she.

That evening the Warblers celebrate as thoroughly as a bunch of uniformed boys in a well-staffed boarding school can. This means that it's late when Kurt drags Sebastian to his room (unlike him Sebastian's in a single), but neither of them is under the influence of anything but happiness.

That's important to Kurt as they tumble into Sebastian's bed while kissing, because he doesn't want there to be any doubt in Sebastian's mind that when Kurt pulls off his shirt and then goes for his fly it's because he wants to.

Having Sebastian stop him is frustrating, to say the very least.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

It's only the fact that it's Sebastian, and that he's shown himself trustworthy in so many ways over the past months that stops Kurt from storming out.

“I thought we... You know?”

It's so hard to say, to open himself up like this, years of being told he's a predator, or ugly, or plain wrong getting just as much in his way as the fact that he's never done this, and the only time he's been even close wasn't even about him.

Apparently he's going to have to use his words regardless, because Sebastian's not taking the opening.

“I thought we could have sex.” There. Words. Consent. Door wide open.

And yet Sebastian's still not taking the opening.

“What's the hurry?”

Kurt pulls back a little, hurt blooming.

“No, no, don't. Talk to me, okay? I'm a bit surprised I guess. We haven't even been dating for two months yet, and I know this is new for you.”

“So? It's not like I'm waiting for marriage.”

Kurt knows he sounds a bit snippy, and he has sort of been waiting – not for marriage, but for something, some feeling of more. He's got that feeling with Sebastian, so what's the point of waiting any longer? Everyone else his age (or so it feels) is having sex so why can't he?

Some of it must bleed through because Sebastian gets that “aha” look, and nods a bit.

“Look, regardless of what I might have said or implied when chasing Blaine, I'm actually not the whore of Babylon. I have, however, rounded a few bases and enjoyed them. I think you'd enjoy them too, and I would love to find out first hand. But that doesn't have to mean we go straight to fucking.” Kurt blushes, because he might be ready to do it, but those words...

“So. I'm not going to push, and I'm not going to rush. I am more than interested though, I'm just happy to take it a bit slow. To build up to every step. As far as I'm concerned you've earned that.”

Sebastian's looking so earnest it kills Kurt annoyance, and then lightning-quick it's replaced by a vicked look than makes him shiver all over.

“I wouldn't mind showing you the first of many, many bases now though. How about it, babe?”

Kurt doesn't mind either, neither then nor the next day.

[writing-in-april]

Painted Nails

Spencer x Female Reader

Big thankies sent to @zhuzhubii and @clean-bands-dirty-stories for beta reading this!!! Go check them out! This also fulfills my request from @thatsonezesty13 for more sub Spencer!! I have more coming for him as well, stay tuned.

Summary: Spencer’s dom paints his nails for date night and she goes crazy at the sight of them.

A/N: Y’all asked for it!!! This is the one out of three fics people voted to come first. Next up is mismatched then car wash to round out the three.

Warnings: femdom, bruising, marking, leg spreader bar, spitting, begging, praise kink, slight choking, slight edging, cream pie, blanket consent (in the beginning)

Masterlist Word count: 3.5k

The bottle of deep plum colored nail polish sat open on my white vanity, though I wasn’t using it for myself. Spencer’s hand sat delicately in my palm as I painted each nail perfectly, getting him ready for date night. He patiently sat naked on my fluffy white stool as I alternated each finger while standing over him in a black lace lingerie set and stilettos. He was always so good for me, never daring to break any rule that I set for him; he lived to please me. As I finished his last nail I set each palm to sit carefully on the vanity with his fingers spread apart.

“Don’t move sweet boy” I whispered into his ear as I went to go pick out his outfit for the evening. Our walk in closet was mostly filled with my fancier clothes, but to the left side hung Spencer’s nicer cardigans and button ups. My plan was to drive him crazy by wearing a violet colored dress as it was his favorite color, so I decided to go with a similarly colored button up and black cardigan. Moving to his dresser on the other side of the room I searched through the neatly folded clothes to find perfect slacks, socks, and a tie to all match.

He hadn’t moved an inch from where I placed him, being the best sub he could possibly be. I waltzed back over to him with the clothes in my arms ready to dress him and he surrendered his body to me, letting me slip his arms through his shirt and slowly button it up. Draping the tie over his shoulders I expertly knotted the fabric into a perfect half Windsor knot. I always did this every time he wore one, I loved taking care of my sweet boy.

“Thank you m’lady.” He mumbled under his breath almost inaudibly as I finished tying the knot on his solid black tie. My hands wound around the length of the tie and yanked him to my eye level so he could initiate eye contact with me.

“Now I know my sweet boy didn’t just mumble.” My eyes formed a glare as I grabbed his chin with my other hand to reposition him as he tried to escape my eyes.“You know to use your big boy voice when you want to speak to your Duchess.”

“Yes, m’lady. Sorry, m’lady. Thank you, m’lady” His cheeks heated up to form a beautiful blush along his cheeks, he often got embarrassed when I reprimanded him for breaking my rules, he just wanted to be a good boy always.

“Good, sweet boy.” I cooed, loosening my strong grip on the fabric. He let out a slight puff of breath, a silent tell that he was relieved that he wouldn't get a punishment from me tonight.

The silence between us once again surfaced as I finished dressing him, getting him to be the picture of perfection for our date tonight. I stepped back to admire my work, the purple button up I had chosen was set off perfectly by the darker hue of his pretty painted nails. The combo of colors stirred something deep inside me, desire, and I hadn’t even meant to match them so perfectly.

My hands tangled themselves in his hair pulling him down to capture him in a heated kiss, he was caught off guard for a moment, but soon melted into the exchange. Even though my stature was smaller then his I swiftly dominated the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth and pulling a deep seated groan from his chest. It quickly devolved into sloppiness, our noses bumping into each other as it became more heated, though he didn’t dare touch me without permission.

Gripping his jaw into my hands I forcefully cocked his head to the side so I could gain access to the column of his throat and suck dark bruises into his neck, adding yet another shade of purple to his attire. When I became unsatisfied with the amount of skin that he was showing I started to forcefully tug at his tie, undoing the impeccable knot I had made earlier. The clothes weren’t coming off fast enough so I tore his shirt open, the buttons popping around me. I did like the shirt, but I needed to gain access to him faster. Soon after he was completely naked besides his boxers; all of the progress I had made to get him dressed was completely nixed, though there was no way we were getting dressed again tonight. In my mind dinner was already cancelled.

I backed him into the edge of the bed and started to pepper hickies further down, covering from the bottom of his sternum up to the edge of his jaw. I pushed down on his shoulders to make him sit perched at the edge of the bed with his feet rooted to the floor. Towering above him I explored his form, adding as many marks as I could to his tan skin while still being careful to not give any relief to his half-hardened bulge, wanting to make him as desperate as possible for my touch. His chest was now laden with hickies, enough that he would have to dig out the concealer I had bought him when we first started dating to avoid teasing from Derek later.

“You look so pretty in purple, I just had to add some more.” The smirk was evident in my voice; I was proud of the petechia that speckled his skin to mark him as my own.

Once I was satisfied that I had painted his chest enough, I moved to capture one of his nipples into my mouth, drawing the second moan of tonight out of him. I carefully bit on the hardened bud while I moved to pinch the neglected other, beautiful whines escaping freely from him now as his hips jutted up from the bed trying to find some relief.

I caught a glimpse of his nails again when he fisted the sheets of the bed. Moving away from his chest, I grabbed one of his wrists letting my gaze fall onto the polish. Instinctively I lurched forward and captured his pointer finger into my mouth as I moved my hips to straddle his. He gaped at me in awe as I began to rock my hips into his own, matching the rhythm with my bobbing head around his fingers.

His bulge was hitting perfectly against my clit building an orgasm slowly from my core, though I decided to pull off and stop before it got anywhere. I still had plenty I wanted to do to him before giving him any release. He sat patiently awaiting my next move, even though I’m sure he would’ve loved to get his release now. The excitement was always better with a significant build up.

“I know I usually tie your hands, but I need them free today to have my fun so we’re doing something different,” I told him while maintaining a stare at his beautified nails. He flashed me an anxious look that would’ve worried me if I didn’t see his pupils deepen in want. I simpered at the look on his face, relishing in the fact that it took almost nothing for him to do anything I wanted. My heels clicked against the hardwood while I sauntered back over to the closet, I shifted through to locate the trunk of toys I had stashed. The trunk held something I had been saving for the perfect day - a leg spreader bar. It suited my mood impeccably. The stainless steel bar was adjustable so I could make him as pliable as I desired. Black leather cuffs were at each end attached to the bar with a delicate but unbreakable chain.

I took a slow walk back while hiding the surprise behind my back; I wanted to build the anticipation for him to an almost unbearable degree. When I finally made my way back in front of him he was sitting at the edge still waiting in bated breath for my surprise. My dominance remained unquestionable even as I sank to my knees, the object still hidden behind my back. I started to press dainty kisses and love bites to his inner thighs causing the bulge in his boxers to grow till he was painfully hard. Swiftly I pulled the surprise out, letting the cuffs dangle in front of him in all its glory.

“This ok Spencer?” Sometimes Spencer got lost in his headspace when I checked in with him, so I always made sure to ask firmly and use his name so he acknowledged me. Anytime I pulled something new for him I always triple checked that he was ok with my actions; I never wanted him to do anything he didn’t want to do just to please me.

“Yes, Duchess.” he whispered breathlessly almost inaudibly with his mouth slightly hung open in the beginnings of a gasp and eyes blown wide with lust.

“What did I say about muttering?” My tone wasn’t aggressive, rather it just held a slight edge to let him know that when it comes to consent I want to hear every word clear as a bell.

“Sorry again Duchess.” His voice clear but squeaky as he cowered at my reaction.

“Do that again tonight and you won’t get a reward.” I simply stated whilst I pulled his boxers down and began to attach the cuffs around his ankles making sure they were snug but not uncomfortable.

“Not too tight?”

“No it’s perfect Duchess.” This time he made sure to keep the volume of his voice up and steady. I started to adjust the bar, leaving it just under its widest position so he could still move his legs inwards just barely.

“Not too wide?” I asked. We had never used this type of apparatus before and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t hurting his hips by pushing them too wide.

“No, it’s perfect Duchess.”

I pushed his chest immediately after his final verbal confirmation until he was laying flat on the bed with his hands at his sides. I made sure to step out of his view as I stripped out of my lingerie and heels slowly; he wouldn’t get to peak just yet.

Sauntering back to face him, I let him stare at me in all my naked glory. Every time he saw me naked, he looked like he was seeing me for the first time, his face awestruck and filled with admiration. I straddled his hips once more, sitting further back this time so his bare cock couldn’t reach any of my skin.

“I want you to please me sweet boy, you always do it so well.” I pulled his hand up as I stated my decree, slowly licking up the outside of his pointer finger.

“Yes, m’lady.” He affirmed with a groan of understanding  before pulling his hand back down and getting straight to work. His perfectly manicured nails slipped between my folds starting to rub eager circles on my sensitive button trying to please me the best way he knew. A gasp slipped its way out of me when he moved downwards to slip a finger inside, bringing much more stimulation then the intiatial movements. I was dripping at the feeling of his singular finger crooking upwards to hit my g spot and he soon added another, barely fitting them together into my tight heat.

My hips started to rotate to help stroke the fire building in my core. His fingers pumped diligently with the same tempo that my hips bounced in, making sure to hit that special spot inside of me every time to please me perfectly. We maintained the rhythm for a while until I started to falter as my release approached. He picked up the pace to make up for my floundering, his eyes looking in wonder as I was worked into an earth-shattering orgasm.

When he removed his fingers from inside of me they were glistening with my arousal. I grabbed his wrist roughly and brought it up to my eyeline to get a good look at the salacious sight. My tongue darted out, wetting my lips in hungry desire. He eagerly wrapped his lips around his own fingers as I pushed them to his mouth, bobbing his head ever so slightly around them to drink in the taste of my juices. I reveled in the sight before me, his eyes glazed over in lust, sucking eagerly on his own fingers that were adorned with the pretty plum polish.

As I pulled them out of his mouth strings of his own spit escaped, giving me a perfect idea. I thumbed the bottom of his chin, wanting him to open his mouth again for me, he opened obediently understanding my nonverbal queues with perfection. Pulling at the root of his hair with my other hand to tilt his head back to give me the perfect angle. I spat into his mouth letting it drip into the back of his throat before forcing his mouth shut with my thumb.

“Thank you m’lady.” He garbled out unprompted as he tried to swallow. A grin graced my face at his thanks.

“Good Boy Spencer.”

I spit again into my hand and wrapped my palm around his length, slowly pumping which in turn pulled beautiful whines from his bruised throat. My pace quickened as I jerked him off with expertise, precum pooling around my fist as a testament to his arousal. His hips tried to meet my strokes even though the bar was barely giving him any leeway, still I decided to squash his movements with a rough shove back down to the mattress. He was steadily reaching the precipice of an orgasm, though I refused to give him the satisfaction and pulled away briskly.

“Please Duchess, I’ve been a good boy for you!” He complained loudly which made my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. He wasn’t one to beg, usually he just sat like a good boy and took what I gave him with no qualms.

“Well I was going to fuck you as a reward…” My voice taking on a sing-song cadence just to tease him further. “But, I could just do this instead.” I said with an exaggerated sigh as I began to jerk him off again albeit more lazily this time.

“Please Duchess, I’m sorry. C-can you please fuck me?” He flashed me his perfect hazel colored irises which had taken on the infamous puppy dog eyes. The combination of his pout and glistening eyes made me relent. I positioned my entrance so the head of his cock was rested right at my opening, but not before dragging my soaked cunt along the outside of his shaft, eliciting a soft gasp from Spencer even though it was the lightest of touches.

We groaned in unison as I slowly sank down onto his cock, letting every ridge catch onto my walls. I sunk down to the base, keeping still at first to take pleasure in the fullness I felt from being with him. He always hit the deepest parts of me that no other man could reach; I truly believe he was made for me. His hands once again fisted the sheets while also trying to pull his legs apart in vain, trying to fight the primal urge to thrust upwards. I rewarded his good behavior by a languid roll of my hips, his legs jerking against the bar at the stimulation gained from the motion. As I started to build a slow but steady pace I traced up one of his arms like a ghost with the hand that wasn’t busy keeping me balanced. Lacing my fingers through his own I pinned his hand swiftly above him in a firm grasp causing a desperate whine to come from Spencer.

“You looked so pretty I just had to have you, sweet boy.” I said softly which was in stark contrast to my rough movements to pin his other hand above his head.

“Oh my God…” He continues to gasp out declarations of disbelief at his pleasure being completely lost in it. I bit hard into my lip as I let myself quicken my hips, rolling in fervor and attempting to gain as much pleasure as possible. My eyes raked over Spencer’s debaucherous appearance, his eyes glazed in a lustful daze, mouth open in a permanent gasp, sweat glistening over his entire figure, and beautiful nails gripped around my own digging into my flesh. I inwardly groaned at the sight of him lost in the throes of passion; he looked picture perfect to me.

“I just couldn’t look at your fingers without thinking about them being inside me,” I was dazed with euphoria, a slew of raunchy comments falling from my lips joining in with his muddled words.

A sudden orgasm took what little breath I had away shocking my core blissfully. The coil in my stomach snapped into a small but powerful high, though my hips continued to shift to ride out the end of my out of the blue orgasm.

I completely focused on bringing Spencer to his ultimate pleasure fervently rocking my hips in a fury. Only little squeaks were escaping him now.

“Say thank you to your Duchess for fucking you.” I said to assert my dominance again.

“Thank you Duchess!” He yelled out into the air, loud enough that our neighbors could definitely hear. Another orgasm was coming around the corner for me, my body getting off to Spence’s desperate pleas.

My hips started to stutter as I teetered on the edge of my release, I could tell he was close too, the gasps from his lips increasing in volume at each time I rocked my hips.

“You’ve been such a good boy Spencer, I just want to give you the biggest reward possible.” I gasped out, his eyes widening in understanding as I let go of his hands and repositioned them to rest on my hips. “I’m going to let you cum inside tonight.”

Spencer's eyes rolled back into his head at my words while arching his back to the steepest angle he could manage causing my nipples to rub against his chest in blissful friction. He started to meet the bounce of my hips as best as he could while restrained with his own thrusts, causing a jingle from the cuffs around his feet. Normally I would berate him for the act, but I was so close to shattering into a million pieces for the third time tonight that I didn’t find myself caring. As I leaned forward to be as close as possible to his body my hand wound around his throat like a necklace applying pressure that I knew would send him over the edge.

“C’mon my sweet boy cum for me” My hot breath caressed his skin as my whisper hit his ear. One last whine fell from him and with one last swirl of my hips he filled me with his warmth, his nails digging into the sides of my hips as he rode out his high.

“Thank you Duchess.” He incoherently whined as his release flooded through him in waves. My teeth sunk into the shell of his ear as the last rope shot into me it caused me to be shoved over the edge for the final time. Our bodies were shaking in pleasure as we finished our respective orgasms, our breaths intermingling as we tried to catch them.

Once I steadied my breath, I guided his fingers to dip between my folds to collect our cocktail of juices, then I pushed them up to his lips to mimic my earlier actions. This time, however, he got to taste the culmination of us together. He swirled his tongue over his own fingers that were manicured to perfection, sinking his lips down as far as he could take them, only stopping when he reached the back of his throat with a choke. He pulled off his own fingers with a pop, flashing me a smirk as he did, which I then matched.

My body was still shaky as I got up to go to the bathroom, preparing to pamper Spencer with aftercare. I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and got redressed, though this time in a much less form fitting outfit, just a simple flowy robe. I got my little collection of aftercare items, a wet washcloth for cleaning, some snacks, lotion for his inevitably bruised ankles, and the softest blanket we owned. Spencer whimpered quietly when I cleaned his length, the overstimulation a bit too much for him. Squirting some lotion onto my palms I massaged the areas I had abused with kisses, then I squatted down to rub the lotion over his bruised ankles as well.

“Sorry for ruining date night Spencer.” I giggled out as I finished. I pulled the large fluffy blanket over us enveloping us in warmth.

“Don’t worry, I thoroughly enjoyed it.” He said pairing it with a characteristically Spencer kiss to my forehead. “Though I am a bit hungry now.”

“I'll make pancakes for dinner.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Do you welcome Your Turn to Die asks?

If so, how about YTTD boys react to Reader dieing? You can make that death as bad as you want (slow, instant, etc)

Why? Cus some agnst is good, hehe

Oh always!!

.........

Humans

Joe

“N-No, c’mon [y/n]..you can’t just give up now! After we just got here!”

It’s unfortunate how a hardly-noticeable trap spelled the end of you--before you even got to the Main Game Miley was blabbering on and on about.

Joe isn’t sure whether to get help or not, so he stays with you, trying his best to figure out a way to stop your bleeding.

But it’s no use.

He beats himself up for being useless--for failing to protect you--but you take his hand and reassure him it’s alright.

“Just look out for Sara...sh-she needs you now more than ever..okay?"

Gin

At first..he couldn’t comprehend you dying.

Thankfully it wasn’t a bloody and painful death, but you were still suffering despite your attempts to cling to life.

He approaches you, already crying as he apologizes for not protecting you. But you reassure him he did his best, and you already felt better because he was by your side now.

He promises to become stronger and to escape with his newfound family...for your sake.

You weakly pet his head one final time, and as your hand becomes limp, Gin panics and tries keeping it on his head, shakily asking you to continue.

You never do.

Sou

He never should’ve let you get so close to him.

Not because of you potentially betraying him, but because he didn’t want to grow so attached to someone he could lose at any time.

But when it’s your turn to die (lol), he panics and deactivates your collar, begging you to run and save yourself. 

Instead you stay in place, refusing to abandon him, and your stubbornness frustrates him.

“S-So that’s it?! You’re just gonna give up and die here?!” He shouts with tears in his eyes.

You reassure him it’s okay. You’ll only suffer a worse death for breaking the rules, and you tell him not to hold onto anger at the others for their votes.

He couldn’t look away from your execution, and that bitterness remained in his heart for a long while.

Kai

He tried not to let your death shake him.

But it was clear he was very broken up over it..despite how calm he seemed on the surface.

Only Sara caught a glimpse of him shedding tears as he knelt by your body--bloody and ruined from the execution.

This was all the more reason to backstab Asunaro. He didn’t want this...he didn’t want any of this.

Could you have been saved? Could trading cards with you have changed your fate?

He didn’t know the answer but..one way or another you’ll be avenged.

‘Damn this organization’

Keiji

You just needed help with one last attraction. That's all you asked for.

It was Quick Draw--and when a gun had to be drawn, Keiji froze in panic, unwilling to shoot.

Unfortunately that brief moment of hesitance was long enough to allow the monster to strike.

He shouted at you to run while he fought back against it, somehow killing it and clearing the attraction.

“I-I did it..hah..that was a close one. Alright now where’s....?” 

But as he turns around, he sees you on the ground--your motionless body impaled by a sword.

He’s utterly devastated, feeling like he’s to blame for not protecting you like he promised--even though he only expected people around him to die.

And by the time he makes it back to the lobby, he already collapsed from his wounds and the grief.

Alice

In the Room of Lies, Alice was panic-striken about where his real sister was. But when Ranger presented her head to him, you could tell that couldn’t actually be Reko. 

There was no blood. It had to be another one of the lies.

Yet the ex-prisoner took the bait...a decision that would’ve cost him his life had you not grabbed the head as it detonated.

Your hands became bloody stumps, and your stomach had a gaping hole in it.

Yet you refused to focus on the pain, only smiling as you saw the real Reko emerge.

Your final wishes were that they reconciled and survived the game together, before you finally succumbed to your wounds.

Alice is heartbroken and conflicted about why you’d sacrifice yourself for a murderer like him..but he’s gonna carry on your wish no matter what.

Q-Taro

You find Q-Taro trying to use the vending machine, and he explains the supposed “escape” it would grant him.

But it was odd he never mentioned this to anyone. So you can’t believe him when he said he’ll get outside help.

Ranger soon informs you two of the consequences of him leaving alone: the death of everyone else.

You beg the baseball player to reconsider---only to be horrified at his remorseful expression as he puts the final token into the machine.

Then your collar beeps rapidly, sending you collapsing to the ground as a poison within it slowly kills you.

Q-Taro has immediate regret, especially as the confused and panicked screams of the other participants reach his ears. 

But he can only mumble apologies as he rushes through the door...and you laid dying, feeling betrayed.

Mishima

No..how could this happen to one of his beloved students/acquaintances??

In the test run of the voting system, he didn’t think there would be any lethal consequences for whoever had the most votes.

He was among the people who voted for you after you pleaded with him to do so. And only moments later did he watch the collar burn your head right off your body

Was he a killer? Just because he respected your wish?

No, he couldn’t be. It was that foolish doll’s fault for not saying anything.

He’s gonna be shaken up for a while, but he has to be strong--for his students and the other young ones who just witnessed something so brutal and traumatizing.

Dolls

Rio Ranger

You failed an attraction, the monsters overwhelming you and your partner. While they already died, you lived long enough to see Ranger enter to take an item from them.

But he sees you and shows a frowny card. “Wow you bastards died to the easiest attraction?! That’s pathetic!”

Even as he scorns you, he seemed to be upset. Despite all his jests, you were kind to him no matter what, and that kindness made you more..."tolerable" than the others.

He didn’t know why he felt so damn guilty, especially when you offer your bracelet/necklace.

“N-No..you can’t just give me that! You’re stupid for thinking you could befriend us dolls to the end!”

“I may be stupid, but..at least I tried..” You smile as your dying breath creeps out, while Ranger stands there in distraught, before taking what you offered him and quietly leaving.

Hayasaka

When the book Obstructors cornered him after the group failed to ward them off, you made either an incredibly brave or incredibly stupid decision:

Shoving him out of harm’s way and letting them attack you.

The pain of their sharp teeth tearing into your flesh was agonizing as you hit them with all your strength--until you had no more.

Hayasaka couldn’t believe you’d sacrifice yourself for him....he was a doll! He could’ve withstood it! 

You weren’t even his partner. So why did you....?

He probably would never understand, but he was alive thanks to you....and he won’t forget that.

[mi6-cafe]

THE FINAL DRABBLES ARE IN!

COME READ THEM AND DECIDE WHOSE IS THE BEST, BETTER THAN ALL THE REST!

But first, what was the prompt again?

Our writers had to use the phrase “be careful what you fish for” in their 300-word drabbles verbatim. 

See the drabbles below the line and VOTE!

(Image description: James Bond off on a fishing expedition)

But how, mods, how do we vote? you ask.

Step 1: Read the drabbles, making notes along the way.

Step 2: Pick three favourites and vote for them in the VOTING FORM while adding feedback for others if you so choose!

Step 3: Profit! (Because it’s all anonymous and even the writers you didn’t vote for end up getting your lovely feedback and it makes them so happy!)

You have until Sunday at 8:59 9.m. PST/11:59 p.m. EST/3:59 a.m. UTC to cast your vote.

Now, come READ&VOTE! (You can also read on wordpress for nicer formatting)

#1

Title: Compliments Author: sunaddicted Warnings: explicit flirting Summary: Q wasn't expecting to hear such a compliment

Seeing Silva bent down over his computer still sent a thrill down Q's spine; despite the fact that the man had become a more or less permanent fixture in Q-Branch, it didn't mean that the adrenaline kick he got out of facing the former rogue agent had gotten any weaker.  

"That's some of my best work."

"Is it."

Q swallowed as he went to stand by the other man, peering down at the lines of code that Silva was studying with the kind of keen eye that made Q squirm, feeling naked even when Silva was looking at his work rather than directly at him.

Though, what was his work if not an extension of his being?

"Are you fishing for compliments, Quartermaster?"

Saying his title in such a caressing and satiny voice should have been made illegal. "Do I need to?" Q tried to ignore the hint of neediness in his voice, even as the flush he could feel blooming up his neck surely betrayed him. He couldn't help it: in his life, he had only met a man who was his equal - better, he had only met a man who could code circles around him, pushing him to do better; to think faster; to outgrow himself. It was exciting.

Raoul slowly turned around, a smirk already painted on his lips. "You have a great arse I would like to bend over this sturdy desk of yours."

"Wh- what?!"

The blonde bent down, lips ghosting against the shell of Q's ear in a caress that was barely there. "Be careful what you fish for, Quartermaster," Silva reached down and closed his hand on the other's hip in a steadying manner, fingers digging into the jutting bone there "You never know what kind of compliment will get thrown your way."

#2

Title: A Fine Kettle Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: LIke shooting fish in a barrel, really.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I said I needed an exit," Bond groused as his feet squelched in his ruined shoes. He'd never get the stink of fish out of this suit. He'd be lucky to scrub it off his skin.

"Well, you know what they say, 007. Be careful what you fish for," Q said, snorting at his own joke as Bond groaned.

"Don't even start, Q," Bond growled. Well. Tried to growl. If it came out as an amused whine Q was polite enough not to call attention to it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Q said primly. "I found you an exit and left your adversaries floundering. You didn't even pull a mussel."

"I've endured torture more pleasant than—"

"Stop your carping; you’re giving me a haddock."

Bond inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

"What will it take to make you stop?"

"You'll have to shell out more than a few clams."

"Q," Bond begged. Yes. Begged. And yet, he knew that if he were standing in front of a mirror right now his reflection would be grinning. Q's jokes were terrible, and his puns were worse, but hearing him so lost in his amusement was a glorious thing.

"Bring all of your gear back for a start. No losing or breaking anything just for the halibut."

"I'll do my best," Bond promised.

"And dinner."

"I beg your pardon?" Bond asked, shocked. He'd been asking the Quartermaster to dinner for weeks.

"You need time to mullet over. That's fine. Just let minnow."

"Yes, Q. Obviously, yes."

"Excellent. I'm thinking sushi."

Bond couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. He could hear Q's smug grin.

"Just squidding," Q said, then hurried to add, "About the sushi. Not about dinner. And dessert. And afters."

"Afters?"

"Cuttles."

#3

Title: Retrieval Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: Q knew it had never been about her

Q came upon Dr Madeleine Swann serenely fishing from the riverbank. “Got one,” she announced, before handing the rod to him and walking away. Bemused, Q tugged, and the fish leapt from the murky river into his hand, scales flowing like water to engulf his entire arm. Face to face, it gave him a toothy grin.

“Be careful what you fish for,” it snickered as the trees around him exploded with gobbets of blue flame. Q dove into the river to escape and was dragged deeper, drowning, webbed hands holding him tight.

He flailed awake to a bed stained green with murky water, strands of river weed draped about. The windows were wide open, moonlight making the wet marks on the floor glisten.

“James?” he whispered. There was no answer. Not since James had taken the damn car and driven off. But there had been enough clues.

----

He took the river road, heading north. Every bridge was washed-out, every access to his destination blocked. He finally came upon an old-style ferry, its raft drawn along a heavy cable strung across the river.

The old raftman eyed him, then shrugged. Halfway across, the raft slowed as if hung up on something. The ferryman cursed and stamped his boot on the boards. As the raft drifted free again, he gave Q a wry look. “Hope you know what you’re about, lad.”

----

The waterhorse waited for him at the loch edge, burning eyes watching him warily as he approached.

“I never believed you left for her,” he said, tangling his hands in the wet mane. “And all the warnings of all the fair folk in the world couldn't keep me away.” He swung astride and held on. “You can either drown me or come home with me, James. It’s up to you, now.”

#4

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: Alec is just trying to have a nice vacation. James has other plans.

Alec is fishing. He’s taken some much-needed vacation time after a knife to the leg on his last mission, and he’s chosen to go to Jamaica, in part because of how James’ face falls when he learns Alec is going without him. James loves Jamaica. Alec, for his part, loves having anything that James can’t have. The sky is blue. The ocean is a beautiful shade of blue-green. Alec lets his line dangle down into the warm water, and leans back in his boat with a sigh of contentment. And then the peace of the summer day is shattered as the water erupts, and a black-clad figure in scuba gear surges up out of the sea, gasping, and clambers into Alec’s boat, almost upsetting it. Alec’s hand flies to his gun, but before he can draw it, the diver pulls off his mask and reveals James’ familiar face. James is bruised and bleeding, and he gasps out, “Near miss. Good thing you were here.” “What the hell are you doing here?!” Alec demands. “I’m on vacation, James!” “Underwater base,” James explains, pointing down into the depths of the ocean. “Spying on our submarines. Blew it up and escaped.” “How do you do it, James?” Alec says, acidly. “How is it that no matter where you go - no matter where I go - there always seems to be some madman with an increasingly improbable scheme gunning for you? Can’t I have one vacation to myself?” It’s not James’ company he minds. It’s that this was supposed to be something he could take away from James. A chance to one-up the always charming James Bond. “Well, Alec,” James said, leaning in with his charming smile. “You know what they say. Be careful what you fish for.” “I hate you,” Alec said, with feeling.

#5

Title: Dare to Wish Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: A very nice welcome-home.  

"Are you going to put away that blasted machine?" Bond asked, not even looking away from his skilled cooking.  

"Hm?" Q hummed distractedly, not ceasing his typing.  

"Your laptop, darling," Bond complained, making 'darling' sound more like a demand than an endearment.   "Hm." The typing never faltered.  

Bond reduced the heat on one of the other pans that he was juggling on the stove. "I was gone for over a month," he grumbled. "I even dared to hope that you were looking forward to seeing me again."  

Q smiled, and the typing slowed. "One minute, and I'll be all yours, and yet you'll still be giving your attention to our dinner."  

Bond couldn't help but grin. "What's so terribly important anyway?"  

"Oh, just some matter of national security that I'd like off the table before we eat."  

Bond laughed. "Bare feet, unbuttoned shirt, and saving the world. A marvel, you are."  

"One step up from working in my pyjamas," Q quipped.  

Bond sighed. "I'm never going to live that down, am I? What about the incident where you basically plugged Silva into our network?"  

Q pulled a face. "That was... my first week as Q, and I desperately wanted to prove myself, and I may have-"  

"Q," Bond interrupted. "I won't let you live it down, but I'm not holding it against you."  

Q smiled. "Thanks. I do, on very rare occasions, get insecure."  

"There's no need. Everyone knows how brilliant you are. And there's no need to be fishing for compliments."  

"Not tonight. I'm just... fishing for affection."  

His typing instantly stopped when a small box of unmistakable shape was put in front of him.  

Bond caught his eyes and smiled. "Be careful what you fish for."  

Q's breath stuck in his throat, and his eyes lit up. "Never."

#6

Title: A Fishy Companion Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Bond makes friends with a merman

“Bond,” said the creature, his tone quite serious.

Bond merely grunted as he continued to mend his nets. He would not even look at the creature as he swam around him in the shallow water, his movements graceful. A bloody merman, for god’s sake. He’d found him tangled in his nets after a fishing expedition some way from the island and the merman, having been rescued, refused to leave Bond’s side ever since.

Now he queried: “Why is the fisherman so stingy?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not,” said Bond brusquely.

The merman replied, “Because his work made him sell-fish.”

Bond closed his eyes briefly. He’d been a double-O agent— a bloody good one— once upon a time. So long ago, it seemed. Retirement on this remote Caribbean island, in a wooden house with its own small pier, had been something he’d dreamed of, until retirement became more like exile and solitude gave way to loneliness.

Until this.

Bond found himself smiling despite himself as the merman persisted, “Why did the fisherman start doing drugs?”

“I don’t know. Why did he?”

“Pier pressure.”

The merman was beautiful, with dark hair and large green eyes that gazed into his rather owlishly. For reasons of his own, he’d named him Q.

Bond looked away. “I think I need a massage,” he said, wincing as he flexed his biceps.

“Have you heard about the Sauna that serves food?” Q piped up. “Their specialty is steamed mussels.”

“Why you—” Bond laughed before he could stop himself. “I ought to have left you in the nets. That might have made you less talkative.”

The merman swam up to him and settled his head boldly on his lap.

“Be careful what you fish for,” said Q, smiling.

#7

Title: Go Fish Author: soufflegirl91 Warnings: adult humour Summary: Q Branch tech must be recovered no matter where the double-ohs lose it.

“Another bloody spoon,” Bond complained, releasing it from the magnet and tossing it on the pile building up at his feet. “How do people even lose spoons in a lake?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the same way you lose proprietary weaponry?”

“Q, for the last time, I didn’t-”

“Can we get any closer to the middle?” Q cut him off, tapping a few times on his tablet screen. “Maybe if we start at the deepest point and move outwards?”  

Bond sighed, dropping the line back into the boat with a clatter. He pulled the engine cord, and with a roar, they were moving.

“THIS SHOULD DO,” Q yelled over the din.

Bond brought them to a stop, but Q didn’t wait for the engine to die down before continuing:

“I’VE ACTIVATED THE HOMING BEACON. THE LAKE’S DEEPER THAN I’D LIKE, BUT I SHOULD GET A SIGNAL ONCE WE’RE-” the engine died down with a final splutter, leaving Q yelling, “DIRECTLY OVER IT - oh.”

“You don’t get out on the water much, do you?” Bond quirked a grin at his flustered Quartermaster, flinging out the line on the starboard side.

“I wouldn’t have to get out on the water at all, if you didn’t go throwing away rocket launchers like they were crisp packets. Bond, what are you doing? I haven’t got a signal, yet.”

“Signal or not, I’ve caught something.”

Bond pulled on the Q-branch reinforced line, trying to reel it in. Whatever the line had caught, it was heavy. Finally, his catch cleared the water line.

He stared.

“Is that a tentacle dil-?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Q cut in.

He giggled. Giggled. Bond had a terrible feeling he knew what was coming next.

“No. Don’t you dare say it.”

“Be careful what you fish for!”

#8

Title: Do I Really Want To Know? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: none Summary: Mallory contemplates a recent mission and the behavior of agent and Quartermaster.

Mallory hadn't gotten to his present position without understanding the value of differing approaches to acquiring information. There were circumstances when a simple question was all that was required. There were others when a figurative bludgeon was necessary. That was more often the case when he had someone dead to rights and just wanted an admission. But when something was more delicate, a search for something he suspected but hadn't been able to prove, he needed the skills of a wily fisherman tricking a trout out from under a rock to rise to the bait.

It was unacceptable that his Quartermaster and 007 had gone off coms for eighteen hours. True, the mission was completed, but Bond's bad habits seemed to have rubbed off on Q. Interviewing both had been useless. 'Yes', 'no' and 'equipment failure' were the sum of the responses. Utterly respectful but complete obstruction from both.

They were hiding something and he was worried. Certainly, disloyalty was possible but he had thought better of both of them. There was a chime from his computer and he glanced at the incoming message from accounting. “Can we have some clarification on these charges, please? Uncertain whether these are mission related.”

Mallory scanned the receipts. A moderately expensive hotel suite, room service, and a concierge fee for a trip to a chemist. All charged to one of Bond's aliases. On impulse he called the hotel. Five minutes later he ended the call and stared at the phone. Well, better than treachery certainly but still, Bond and Q? The concierge had found the couple charming and was sure they were a couple. Be careful what you fish for. Now what was he supposed to do? Better that they hadn't admitted anything. He didn't have to act if he didn't officially know.

#9

Title: Shark Bait Author: Venstar / 1amvengeance Warnings: violence? People dedding Summary:  what would you do for those you love?

Bond swam to the ladder access of the dock. A creak of the boards and he froze in place. He swung himself up, his movement was swift and deadly. The guard dropped as suddenly as he had appeared. Bond rolled him into the water. Through the mist, he could just barely make out the tip of a fin. He smiled. It was cold, calculating, and lacking in teeth.

“Almost there.” Bond smiled as a soft breath was let out over comms. “Were you worried?”

“About you or my mortgage and two cats? Because if you live, then maybe M won’t find out about this.”

This time Bond’s smile was wide and bright. “I’m glad we agree then.” 

Bond cut a slit through his wetsuit until he could see his skin underneath. Slightly tan with a smattering of darker freckles. Was that a new mole? Maybe he should have it checked out. Too late. Blood welled up from where the mole had been. He grimaced.

“Bond? What are you doing?”

“Chumming the water.” He heard Q’s sharp intake of breath at the sound of him re-entering the water.

“Bond. This is the worst idea on the list of bad ideas.”

“I know what I’m doing, Q. Moving in, now.”

Silence from the other end as Q listened to him work. He slid through the water, coming up just under the opening of the warehouse. He pulled himself out, his eyes on his targets. He spared one glance for his lover, hoping that Felix could keep the two men distracted enough for him to...yes...to do that. The two men were tossed cut and bleeding into the dark water behind him. Their shouts of surprise turned into screams of pain and terror.

"Be careful what you fish for." Bond murmured, smiling at Felix.

#10

Title: Witnessed Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: James observes Q's methods. It pays off. Q is flexible. He can play an agent like a fiddle. Any time, any place. He knows exactly how to approach his agents — something James is rather impressed by. He'll let them stew for half an hour when necessary; he'll cosy up to them, all charm and innocence; or play up the socially inept IT intern. Sometimes, he gets mean. James particularly likes that part of Q. Whichever it is, though, Q's got them all wrapped around his long capable fingers. James can't look away. He hears from 002 about the 'banger of a DnD game' she apparently raked in the loot for. He also learns about the Deck of Many Things. It's surprisingly accurate for whatever happens next.

009 loses a chess match and gets equipped with a tractor instead of the Jeep he'd requested, although it goes 300 mph and has multiple cannons attached.

005 fails a coin toss and gains a squirt gun full of holy water for her mission at the Vatican. With a quirk of a smile, Q suggests Russian Roulette to Alec. He wins, but just barely.

Q equips his agents with the bare necessities, but unlike his predecessor, they all have to earn the goods. Q's gambling and James is determined to get his own. Q, ever the gentleman, asks what he's willing to play.

"Let's Go Fishin'," James tells him and just for a second Q looks startled. James' lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"Be careful what you fish for," Q tells him, voice low and enticing. James leans forward, distracted.

"I win," Q says, eyes alight with excitement.

"It's a draw," James corrects, hoping his exhaustion won't show. Q's gaze grows sharp.

On his next mission, James finds an exploding pen in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

#11

Title: To Fish or Not to Fish Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: Someone is sending weird presents to Q. He needs to figure out who that someone is.

The mug was ugly. Big, brown, and with a ceramic trout holding a plate “I fish you very much!” engraved in bold letters. It wasn’t the only thing that had been anonymously sent to Q for his birthday this week (other items included cheap chocolate and a teddy bear).

“This is getting ridiculous. Who would give me something so hideous?”

“You know what they say – be careful what you fish for!”

“That’s… not what they say.”

James smirked, obviously happy with himself.

Q continued: “Can you at least pretend that you’re jealous? It used to be you, sending me obnoxious gifts!”

“Don’t act like you thought it was romantic now, you hated it.”

He did. But he still had all the awful trinkets that James had sent him from missions before his retirement. They were displayed in his office, he couldn't force himself to throw them away. Maybe he was sentimental, after all.

“Perhaps it’s from a criminal who wants to infiltrate the MI6,” Q wondered.

James laughed. “I can guarantee you that it’s not a villain, the gifts are indeed from the heart.”

Of course he had something to do with it!

“And you can’t just tell me?”

“Nah. Let minnow when you figure it out!.”

“James, this was a terrible pun, even for you.”

“It’s not kraken you up?”

Truly not.

The question was who could send him these kinds of gifts? It seemed that they weren’t from some admirer either, seeing as James didn’t feel threatened. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Oh my God!”

Suddenly he knew. And it was horrifying.

“It’s from my mum.”

James grinned: “I love that woman. She understands that fish puns are fin-tastic!”

With horror, Q realised that against his better judgment, he had ended up marrying his own mother.

#12

Title: One Hell of a Strange Fish Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: none, just lols Summary: Fishing at lake Erie can be more exciting than you think. 

Felix sighed happily as he sat on his little bench in his little boat and let his mind wander. Bliss like this was hard to come by. A weekend of fishing, peace and relaxation was awaiting him and there was nothing that could spoil it.

Just as he’d finished the thought, a sudden tug at his fishing rod almost made him topple over the rim of his boat. Felix caught himself and cursed, put his feet down and with all his strength, he started reeling in the gigantic fish. It was putting up one hell of a fight. Gritting his teeth, Felix pulled and pulled, until, with an almighty splash, it broke the surface and screamed, just as the hook zinged past Felix’ ear.

Wait… Screamed?

Felix blinked.

“What do you think you’re doing, you bloody idiot!!” the man, not fish, exclaimed and ripped his diving mask off. He glared daggers at Felix, who still stood poised with his rod in hand.

Then the man frowned. “Felix?” he said incredulously.

“James?!”

“What on earth are you doing up there?”

“Me?! What are you doing down there?!”

James huffed, paddling against the water. “I asked first.”

“Well, I’m on holiday.” Felix held up the evidence. “Fishing trip. What about you?”

“Assignment,” James answered simply.

The mental image of a mushroom cloud above lake Erie filled Felix’ head. “Hell. Should I be worried?”

“Not particularly,” James said. “Anyway, should get going. Nice chatting with you.”

“Hold on, James, what –”

“Next time… Be careful what you fish for!” James called out, shoved his mouthpiece back between his teeth and submerged.

“Did you just…” Felix began, but James was already gone.

With a sigh, Felix let himself fall back into his seat and rubbed his forehead. They had to stop meeting like this.

#13

Title: Gone Fishing Author: Merc / the moon of mercury Warnings: none Summary: sometimes Bond prefers not to talk about his missions.

“Now you’re just preening,” Q says, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “Fishing for compliments. Really, Double-O-Seven, must you always make such a show of everything?”

Bond shrugs and finishes straightening his tie, not bothering to argue. He had been admiring his own reflection on the window of the newly painted DB10.

“Quite a dashing image, if I do say so myself. That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s the Geneva Motor Show, no one’s going to take me for a collector if I don’t look the part. What do you think?”

“I’m not the one you need to convince. All I care about is that you get the job done and bring back my car in one piece.”

“Why so grumpy, Q? I’d hoped you’d at least extend the sentiment to my person besides the car. And maybe wish me good luck? I have a feeling this one won’t be easy.”

“Bollocks, you’re going to seduce her, get the intel, and spectacularly blow things up. All of which you invariably accomplish every time. So, off you go and lay your bait. But please, do me a favour and think of the poor car while you’re at it.”

*     *

Q is right. The rich widow falls for his charms, spills her secrets, and buildings explode. Even the Aston survives. A success, all things considered.

Still, it takes him a week after returning to London to face his Quartermaster. The ugly love bites have faded and the overwhelming stench of perfume is nothing but an unpleasant memory. But Q has recordings of the events that went down in her boudoir, and Bond knows for sure he won't let it go.

Unfortunately, his foresight proves right.

“Be careful what you fish for,” he quips the moment Bond steps in, dissolving into laughter.

#14

Title: Look at the Bright Side Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: none Summary: The Quartermaster's job is never easy.

When Bill entered the office, it was dark and quiet. Q sat slumped, painted pale blue under the light of the computer screen.

“Q?” Bill whispered, unsure what he stepped into.

Q looked up, blinking slowly.

“Bill. What are you doing here?”

Bill approached the desk, turning on the lamp. Q flinched from the light, like the sleep-deprived vampire that he was.

“It’s midnight, Q.” Tanner sighed, taking in the wide eyes and the dark shadows under them. “Bond came back hours ago. Why are you still here?"

Q blinked. Bill could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Christ.

Q pushed a glass bowl from behind the screen. The water inside sloshed wildly from the sharp movement, stirring awake the creature inside.

“It's a... fish?"

“Bond brought it,” Q said. He glared at the fish like it's the source of all of his problems.

“He got you a fish?”

“No,” Q said, eyes narrowing. “He brought back the micro-sized, water-proofed, indestructible hard drive made especially for this mission, containing all the stolen information M asked for."

Bill glanced back at the fish. The fish, who had very sharp teeth inside its slightly gaping mouth.

“Is the hard drive -”

“It's inside the damn piranha!" Q hissed, smacking his head on the table.

Bill couldn't help it.

"Be careful what you fish for, huh?” He said, earning a sharp stare from under the dark mop of curls.

“At least he brought back the equipment this time,” Bill said, smiling apologetically. “Come on, you won’t get anything done by glaring at the fish.”

Q sighed, heavily, but took Bill’s offered hand and stumbled to a stand.

“At least it’s not a komodo dragon this time,“ Q said, as they stepped into the empty parking lot.

Bill couldn't help but laugh.

#15

Title: Cracked Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: n/a Summary: Bond and Q bring down a villain and have a few laughs.

Waves lapped at the sand, offering a gentle, rhythmic backbeat to the sounds of a madman’s island base crashing down in flames.

Bond and Q stood side by side on the beach, each sooty, disheveled, and soaked to the bone. They were sporting various bumps and bruises, some scrapes and burns, but they were pleased with themselves, nonetheless. It had been a grueling few days’ work, filled with more fire, gunplay, and close encounters with sharks and other sharp-toothed marine life than Q was usually comfortable with, but they’d done good work. Yet another villainous plot soundly foiled.

“Well,” Q sighed, “I suppose it’s true what they say.”

“What’s that, Q?” Bond asked idly.

Snickering preemptively, Q answered, “Be careful what you fish for.”

The expected eye-roll and long-suffering sigh never came. Instead, Bond’s expression went curiously blank, before a smile cracked over his face and he began to laugh. It started as a small chuckle before morphing into true, shoulder-shaking amusement, and Q’s own smile slid away in alarm. The joke wasn’t that funny – not that Bond ever laughed at his puns to begin with.

“Oh god, did you sustain head trauma while I wasn’t looking?” Q demanded, his fingers twitching towards Bond’s scalp.

Bond shook his head, still chuckling lightly. “I’m fine, Q. In fact… I’m fintastic.”

In spite of the suspicious anxiety churning in Q’s chest, he couldn’t help it; the pun was so terrible, so ill-timed, so entirely out of place, that Q had to laugh. “Oh, that’s it,” he gasped between giggles, “you’ve finally cracked.”

“I’m fine, Q,” Bond said again, then leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Q’s smiling mouth before giving him a small shove in the direction of their getaway boat. “Now let’s get out of here.”

*****

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