#I just want this pain and stupidity and anxiety and bullshit to go away so I can go back to normal

[jacksfandomrandom]

After re-watchinf Hazbin, i wanted to write something I really want to see in season 2 and tried to make as much in character as possible.

The nights are the hardest

Summary: Vaggie has a nightmare and struggles with self-hate

Tw: suicidal ideation

It was extermination day. It was supposed to be the best day of the year for the exorcists. The day they had trained hard for. The abuse and overworking Vaggie had endured just to get a few hours of praise from her commander. This was what she worked hard for. To kill sinners.

The group flew through the skies of hell, attacking every sinner they saw. Blood splashed everywhere. The screams of sinners echoed throughout pentagram city. After cutting right through a sinner heart, she saw one cannibal get away. Her sisters were busy so she knew she had to go for him. 

She followed the sinner through cannibal town till they were right next to the city. He ran into an alleyway, in hopes of hiding but Vaggie had found him. She cornered him but then realized, he was just a kid. Just seeing him made her start to regret her choices. What even was the point of killing these souls? To protect heaven? That was just bullshit. No one gave a shit about heaven down here until the exterminations. Hesitating, she lowered her spear.

“Go, run. Now!” She told him and he fled. However, she felt as if someone was behind her. She turned around but before she could even react, a large trident plummeted into her eye, pulling it out of her socket. She fell to the ground with a shriek of pain, glancing up at the attacker, only to find that it was Charlie.

“You obnoxious pig. You think you can just come down here and kill my people?!” She pinned her to the ground.

“Ch-Charlie! I-” Before she could get her words out, Charlie had grabbed her wings with her claws and pulled hard, ripping them from her back. She let out an agonizing cry as she was mutilated. Charlie threw the wings to the side as golden blood oozed out.

“You really thought I could love someone as fucking horrible as you?! Ha! That's rich. You know, instead of me killing you, how about you do it yourself!” Charlie kicked the spear into her hands, “If all you do is make everything worse, then what's the point of even being alive, bitch.”

Vaggie stared at the spear next to her hands. She shakily picked it up and lined it with her throat. Charlie was right. She was made to follow orders and service people. But if she couldn’t do that, what was the point of her even being alive? Besides, everyone in heaven hated her. No one would miss her.

Vaggie woke up with a gasp. She pushed herself up with her hands and sat with her knees close to her small chest. Tear marks trailed down her cheeks and her eye socket and back throbbed with pain. After every bad dream, she would always wake up with bad phantom pains. As the nightmare burned in her mind, more tears started to pour out. She tried wiping them away but only more came out. Quiet sobs escaped her mouth as she continued to try and wipe away her pathetic and weak tears. Her wings wrapped protectively around her arms and shoulders, trying to provide some sort of comfort for her.

Suddenly, she felt Charlie stir next to her. Seeing her made the nightmare feel ten times worse. Her breathing started to pick up and she could feel her anxiety heighten. She didn’t mean to wake her up! What if she was mad? What if she was going to hurt her?! No, this was Charlie! Charlie wouldn’t hurt anyone, would she? No, don’t think that.

“Vaggie? Hey, are you okay?” The princess asked, sitting up. Ever since they started dating, Charlie could sense whenever Vaggie was feeling bad, upset, lonely, or any other negative emotions. She was worried when she had woken up randomly in the night to find her girlfriend crying in bed.

After Charlie had asked her that question, she pushed away those stupid anxious thoughts. She knew that Charlie would never hurt her, but the dream had felt so real that it was hard to believe. Reminding herself that this wasn’t the same Charlie that was in her dream, she tried to untense a little.

“Shit, sorry, y-yeah, I'm fiNe” Vaggie’s voice cracked, indicating that she was in fact not fine. Her inability to lie was both a blessing and a curse

“Vaggie… love, talk to me,” Charlie scooted closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Vaggie flinched massively, making Charlie about to retract her hand, but Vaggie started to relax. She began to rub her shoulder lightly, knowing her back was probably flaring up and didn’t want to be touched. She had helped her partner though enough nightmares to know how to help them.

Vaggie shook her head, not yet ready to talk. Once she was sure it was safe, she threw her face into Charlie’s chest and let out more sobs mixed with many apologies. The comfort she received felt undeserving after everything she’s done.

“I’m sorry, Char, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered before snorting, really not wanting to get snot all over Charlie’s pajamas, but failing. Whenever she’d end up crying like a fucking weakling, she’d always get a runny and clogged up nose at the same time.

“Sweetie, it’s okay… was it a nightmare?” Charlie asked, combing through her long grayish white hair. Vaggie nodded, starting to calm down slightly. 

Charlie continued to cuddle with her before she quietly began to sing. The calming sound of her voice made Vaggie melt in her arms. The tears had dried up and Vaggie’s breathing evened out but she still lay in her arms.

After she had stopped singing, they cuddled in silence for a little bit. But then Vaggie stirred.

“Ch-Charlie? Am I… Am I horrible?” She asked, looking down, not meeting Charlie’s eyes. 

Charlie gave her a sympathetic smile and lightly grabbed her chin and moved it so she could meet her eyes. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but once she saw that Charlie wasn’t mad, or freaking out, she calmed down a little.

“Vaggie, I won’t lie, you have done some horrible things, but that doesn’t make you a horrible person. People make mistakes. They happen. But no one should be defined by a mistake they made.” She told her, lightly scratching her wings. Vaggie smiled a little. A part of her wanted to argue but she mostly just wanted to fall back asleep in her lover’s arms. Especially when she started scratching the right spot on her wing. She just melted immediately.

“I love you, sweetie…” Vaggie mumbled.

“I love you too, Vaggie. Mwah!” Charlie gave her a big kiss on the forehead, making Vaggie smile humongously. “Come on, let's go back to bed,” 

With the gentle scratches and cuddles, Vaggie’s phantom pain soon went down and she managed to fall asleep quickly in her lover’s arms.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

*scurries in* COULD YOU MAYBE PLEASE WRITE ABOUT A SICK AND INJURED HERO BEING TAKEN CARE OF BY VILLAIN????

*whispers* it's one of my favorite tropes

“I do not want you here,” the hero hissed. “Leave.”

With a calm and totally unfitting gaze, they surveyed the hero. Broadly speaking, the villain wasn’t one to take orders and when going into detail, it was anything but a secret that the villain was a stubborn and powerful person. The hero was pretty sure that they’d never listened to anyone in their life. Not that the hero cared about that right now. 

“I need to talk to you.” The villain’s voice was unbroken, clean and direct in a way that usually made the hero shiver. Today they were too annoyed to heed it. 

“Are you not listening to me? God, what’s wrong with you?” the hero asked. Their whole world started spinning again — fussing over the villain made them feel worse than ever. It had started innocently with a cough this morning and when they’d made the dumb decision to take over the morning patrol, it had ended in a sprained ankle. The hero wasn’t one to curse quickly, wasn’t one to get agitated but today was a real challenge for them. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“I need to talk to you,” the villain said again, unmoved. The hero stared at the cold coffee on the counter. There was really no privacy when one knew the villain, was there?

“What do you want?” The hero’s voice was sharp but the villain didn’t seem to mind. Actually, the hero felt stupid for giving in so quickly. They could’ve punched the villain for inviting themselves in. Through the window.

“Last week,” the villain said, “you kissed me.”

The hero took in a deep and painful breath. Sinusitis. 

It was this big pressure on their cheeks, on their forehead — it hurt and pushed and pushed and pushed.

“I also tried to kill you last week, what are you trying to say?”

“No, don’t do that,” the villain said carefully, softly even. They took a step towards the hero and the hero couldn’t even take a step back without wincing. “Don’t push me away like that.”

“I took advantage of you. It was for my mission. Satisfied?” the hero asked. One might expect the villain was hurt by that and yes, it was the hero’s intention to hurt and shove them away but their enemy just threw a confused look at them. Nothing about them said anything about defense nor attack and it made the hero slightly uneasy.

“Quit that bullshit. What is going on with you?” 

“Leave me alone. That’s all I want.”

It had been a mistake to kiss the villain, they knew that now. All in all it had been the best night of their life — recognising the villain had been easy, flirting with them had been easy and drinking the drinks had been easy. And when both of them had found themselves on the balcony, escaping the loud party and gazing up at the stars, the hero had thought to themselves: we’re not so different, you and I.

Living a violent life like this had traumatised the hero, they were scarred and hurt, more a broken thing than a healed one. Sometimes, they felt more like a monster than an actual human being. They were ashamed of that.

So, it had been easy to look at the villain with hearts in their eyes when they’d told the hero that they’d wished for another life than this. Grabbing them and kissing them was the right thing to do in that moment, tasting the chocolate cake they had for dessert on the hero’s tongue, pulling them close and feeling their hand on the hero’s lower back, the slight grip in their hair…

At that time, it was perfect and the day after that it still was. But when the weekend had rolled around, anxiety had taken over the hero in a harsh and unpleasant grasp. They’d gotten sick, sprained their ankle today.

If their boss found out about this…

“You were head over heals,” the villain said. 

“I wasn’t head over heels,” the hero said. They felt how they were heating up but this wasn’t because of the conversation. It was a fever. They were so overwhelmed, so sad…it was hard to live alone and be sick and then this was happening too.

“Ergo dum me diligis. That’s what you said to me. I know you love Latin, I know you mutter curses under your breath when the fight gets heavy, I know this language means something to you.” The villain sounded frustrated now. “You don’t say stuff like that for fun.”

The hero searched for some stability and grabbed the counter. Pain shot through their head, banging inside it mercilessly. They couldn’t breathe, it was like their whole respiratory system was on fire. 

“You…” Their vision blurred gently and they couldn’t hear properly. “You should leave—”

Before their head could crack open on the counter, the villain caught them and pulled them up. 

“Jesus Christ, you have a fever,” they mumbled but the hero couldn’t really understand the words. They heard them far away but putting them together in a smart line wasn’t possible.

The last thing they remembered before falling asleep was the villain’s other arm on their calves, swooping up the hero and carrying them to bed.

[isimpfortoomanypeople]

Our first Christmas together- Billy Hargrove x Female reader

The Christmas holidays was always hard for Billy especially growing up with an abusive father. He usually busies himself in work to distract himself from the painful day but when his boss gives him the day off, you try to help to make this Christmas bearable for him. (A continuation of my high school sweethearts one shots)

Warnings: abuse mentioned in detail, Neil (he’s a warning in itself), ptsd attack mentioned in detail and anxiety.

A/N: did you really think that i wouldn’t post anything for Christmas? Just like Billy I don’t find Christmas a great holiday due to a problematic family member so it inspired this. I also have ptsd so what I wrote for Billy is accurate for me and this is important if someone is having a ptsd attack don’t hug them unless the person says it’s okay. Sorry it’s a little dark but I imagine as Billy had an abusive dad Christmas isn’t going to be a happy time for him. Sorry if some parts sound overly British as I’m from the U.K. Apologises for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

Billy Hargrove hated Christmas and that was a fact. He hated the whole stupid holiday, all these commercials and stupid hallmark movies that depicted the perfect family life. Preaching that Christmas is a season for all coming together over a cozy fire with your family, forgiving those that have wronged you as it’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Everything about Christmas made Billy sick. what if you don’t have a loving family who loved and cared for you? What if home isn’t a safe place for you where there’s no presents only the threat of your drunken farther beating you till you could barely stand? What then!

Before his mom left Christmas was bearable, his mom tried her hardest to make a magical Christmas for the young boy. She would sneak into Billy’s room in the early hours of the morning to place a stocking at the bottom of his bed for him to open in the morning.

Billy grew up never believing in Santa Claus for his farther would never allow him to believe in such a childish thing, claiming that he shouldn’t believe in such childish bullshit and Neil should shake some sense into him if he wanted to believe in such a myth. The magic of Christmas was taken away from Billy as soon as he learnt to know what it was.

So when Billy received the stocking from his mom it was kept on low profile from his dad, Billy would wake up before his farther to open whatever his mother had brought him. As it was all done behind Neil’s back all he received was a candy bar and a small toy car, Billy was thankful for his mom to try to keep the magic of the holiday alive. But the tiniest spark of Christmas joy faded away when his mom left without even saying goodbye, she left him with the monster he had to call his dad.

Billy despised Christmas

Everything had gotten worse when Neil remarried Susan and moved to Hawkins. Susan was the sort of mother who loved Christmas and believed it to be a time for family, much to Billy’s dismay. Every year she would gather all of the family around the tree every Christmas morning while he had to watch them all play the picture perfect family which made him sick. Watching as his farther gave Max presents with a warm loving smile. Watching as he kissed Susan with such tenderness. Neil proved to Billy that he can be a loving farther which made Billy’s heart sink, Neil could be all the things that Billy wanted him to be but he didn’t want to be a loving father for him.

“Billy do you have any presents for Maxine and Susan?”

“No sir, I thought that we didn’t give presents” Billy’s heart sank to his stomach, he was sure that it stopped beating all together as he saw Neil’s smile turn into a scowl in a matter of seconds. All the love that his eyes once held turned cold and dark the moment his eyes laid upon his son. Billy tensed his body knowing what that look from his farther entitled.

“What!” Neil barked, Billy felt his blood run cold rapidly blinking back his tears as his farther walked over to him with his fist raised in the air.

“It’s fine honestly I don’t need any more presents” Max ran up to Neil, pleading with him to not hurt him. Her eyes clouded with tears blurring her vision, this wasn’t the way she wanted this day to go. She hated Neil with all her heart, she couldn’t understand why her mom would marry the monster known as Neil Hargrove. Max could see through the fake smiles Neil gave her, Neil wasn’t a nice man and the bruises that scattered upon Billy’s face proved that.

“Maxine go to your room” her mom ushered her up the stairs

“Mom he’s going to hurt him-“

“Maxine go to your room!” Her mom ordered, her face displayed little sympathy towards the abuse that was about to take place. Max desperately searched her mom’s face for the slightest glimpse that she could register that what her husband was doing was inhumane. But sadly Max saw barely any emotion on her face, like she was on autopilot as if this was normal to her.

Max scoffed and glared at her mom as she ran up the stairs, she couldn’t bare to look at her for a second longer as she felt sick.

“You ungrateful shit!” Neil bellowed, his voice shook the house, max flinched as she clasped her hands around her ears to block out the sickening thud of his fist colliding with Billy’s nose.

From that day forwards max hated Christmas and started to question her mother’s morality.

——————————————————————————

Ever since moving to California with the love of his life and his beautiful daughter, Christmas was still the most hardest holiday for him. He eventually opened up to you about his abusive upbringing but the subject of Christmas was still a sore spot to him, especially knowing how much you loved the festive period.

He begged his heart to try to feel something over the season for your sake, he wanted to share the same excitement you held whenever you saw it’s a wonderful life shown on tv or when you saw the local toy shop’s lavish Christmas display. But at last he felt nothing and when Kelly was born he felt like the world’s worst farther as he couldn’t bring the magic of Christmas that he knew that she deserved.

Every time the difficult holiday came around he busied himself with work, he conveniently forgot to give in his holiday notice to his boss till it was too late. So every Christmas Billy spent it at work, not that he didn’t love you and your family that you created together, in fact he loved you all to the point of insanity, his love for you knows no bounds. But he couldn’t spend a holiday with the people he loved the most with the occasion that held so much trauma for him. So he put up with sympathetic smiles from his coworkers as he showed up at work on the 25th, secretly glad that he didn’t have to spend a single moment reliving some of the worst days of his life.

But this year had different plans for Billy, his boss was adamant that Billy took Christmas Day off saying that it wasn’t fair as Billy had a wife and daughter that he shouldn’t work during the holidays. Billy awkwardly smiled at his boss, giving him his best attempt of being grateful even though his heart plummeted. Suddenly he was 16 years old at his father’s house bracing himself to receive a powerful blow from his dad, he tried his hardest to regulate his breathing from this panic attack he can feel bubbling towards the surface. Which led to his boss sending him home early as he believed Billy’s panic attack to be an illness from Billy’s sudden pale appearance.

Billy clung on to the kitchen counter as he felt his legs turn into jello before they gave way entirely. He fell to the floor, hugging himself tight into a ball rocking himself back and forth to try and feel some form of comfort in this hellish situation he was experiencing. His breathing was hitching rapidly to the point that he was feeling light headed from the lack of oxygen to his body, he couldn’t breathe as much as he tried to gasp for air he couldn’t breathe. Everything felt far away as if it was a dream and he couldn’t stop shaking as flashes of his father’s abuse flashed across his brain, forcing him to relive every moment.

You ran down the stairs when you heard the door flung open followed by the crash of Billy’s body on the floor. Your heart felt like it was in your throat limiting your breathing, your mind was racing jumping to all the worst case scenarios.

“Billy what’s wrong?” You tried to be calm but the panic made your voice erratic and loud. You saw him curled up in a ball, physically shaking with tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked glazed as if he was in a different reality all together.

Billy flinch when he heard the loudness in your voice call his name, he buried his face in his knees trying to drown out everything around him. Trying to tell himself that what he was experiencing in his head isn’t real, but the flashbacks were vivid and violent that it was hard to believe that he is safe when his farther felt like he was in the room with him.

“Billy?” You called his name again this time with a softer calmer tone in your voice.

He slowly lifted his head to look at you, battling with his own mind to remain in the room with you without being sucked back in to his flashbacks. His eyes looked like that of a wounded puppy, he looked so small and fragile, it was heartbreaking to see.

You slowly approached where he was curled up on the floor, wary not to startle him further. You’ve seen Billy experience a ptsd attack before so you knew how to comfort him, but you were confused to what had triggered this attack. Usually he would wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare about his farther or him being possessed again by the mind flayer.

You sat down next to him and wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace, allowing his head to rest on your chest to hear your heart beat and to feel the rise and fall of your chest to help to regulate his breathing in a calming rhythm. You rubbed small soothing circles on his arm as you softly spoke to him, reminding him that he’s safe. Helping him slowly come back into reality.

“I’m sorry” Billy croaked, his voice still strained and horse from those heart wrenching sobs, he clung on to you like a child would to their favourite toy reminding himself that he’s safe here with you.

“Billy you have nothing to apologise for” you soothed placing a gentle kiss against his sandy curls

Billy explained everything to you in one big outpour, he told you the extent of his father’s abuse during the holidays and how guilty he feels that he can’t make your favourite time of year special. You felt your heart breaking seeing the guilt appear through his ocean eyes, seeing the guilt and despair Neil installed in him making Billy apologise for things that isn’t his fault. If you could go back in time and take Billy away from his dad you would, but you’re far away from him now and that’s all that matters.

You listened to him allowing him to get everything off his chest while you held him, he just needed someone to listen to him and not to judge him.

“Billy baby, you don’t need to apologise none of this was your fault. What he did to you was never your fault. We don’t have to make Christmas a big deal this year-“

“But what about Kelly?”

“Billy it’s okay we’ll have a small family Christmas and we can do whatever you want to do. We can make our own traditions and create new happier memories”

He tilted his head to look at you, his eyes were soft as he felt the weight fall off his shoulders. He softly smiled at you and he reached up to lower your face to his as he gently kissed you.

“Thank you” he whispered when he broke away.

God he was lucky to have you. He loved everything about you, how you never judged him and made him feel safe even when his mind wasn’t. He loves you and couldn’t be happier to call you his wife.

—————————————————————————-

When Christmas morning came around Kelly woke both of you up by jumping on your bed.

“Mommy daddy wake up, it’s Christmas” she giggled with glee “Santa came and he brought me presents”

“Wow honey you must of been a good girl this year, you go downstairs and wait for us we’ll be down in a few minutes” you smiled, your voice still heavy with sleep and your voice horse from just waking up.

You waited for the sound of little feet running down the stairs to turn into silence before turning over to Billy.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay” his voice was weak with nerves, he was trying to put on a brave face but you could see the uncertainty that laid underneath.

“If it gets too much let me know” you reassured him, placing a kiss on the top of his head before climbing out of bed.

The morning though tough for Billy ran a lot smoother than what he expected. He started to feel some joy as he watched the excited face of his daughter as her face lit up with each present that she unwrapped.

Around lunch Billy was starting to relax, he no longer felt tense in fact he was starting to warm up to the day. There was no arguments or punches that he used to associate with the holiday, instead he saw the love and comfort that he had wished for. You were gentle and patient with him, allowing him to take the day at his own pace. The day consisted of opening presents and a small Christmas lunch and that was it as you didn’t want to overwhelm Billy on one of the days that was the most hardest for him. It was nice to have your husband there for Christmas, even though it was a small Christmas it was the best one you have ever had.

To finish the day you all sat curled up on the couch, Billy on your right with his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, while Kelly was to your left half asleep with her head in your lap while Miracle on 34th street played in the background.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“For everything you’ve done today, I’m sorry that this wasn’t the best Christmas-“

“Billy this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had, I mean that. I got to spend the day with the man I love and my daughter who I adore, this is the perfect Christmas for me”

“I love you princess”

“I love you too”

A/N: I just want to give Billy a hug and take him far away from the duffer brothers as they clearly don’t know how to write for someone experiencing abuse. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. As always my requests are still open

[josiebelladonna]

Perform a word association exercise with the word “sex.”

Nausea. Discomfort. “Big deal”. “No big deal.” Deserving. Undeserving. A contest. Popularity. Anxiety. Depression. Trash. Garbage. Taboo. Caught. Emptiness. Blackness. Immaturity. Disillusioned. Bored. Boring. Boredom. Lame. Uncomfortable. Elusive. Anger. Heartache. Heartbreak. Headaches. Stomachaches. Achy joints. Diseases. Infections. Oversaturation. Annoying. Obnoxious. Violence. Mistrust. Traditions. Daydreams. Nightmares. Awfulness. Disgusting. Stupidity. Tears. Cutting. Hitting. Horror. Trauma. Crosses. Bibles. Eye rolls. Pathetic. Arrogance. Powerless. Hopeless. Useless. Listlessness. Indifference. Anxiety. Uncaring. Cruelty. “Point and laugh.” Ridicule. Tedium. Unsafe. Abuse. Trauma. Bullshit. Horseshit. Gun to my head. Children. Babies. Baby fever. Tools. Sterility. Fertility. Infertility. Pointless. Pleasureless. Mindless. Loveless. Lies. Liars. Ugly. Cold. Gross. Unnatural. Cringe. Avoidance. Pain.

Would you say that you have or have not had a strong sexual drive in your life? How does and did this level of sexual drive affect your intimate relationships?

I don’t have a strong sex drive. In fact, I don’t think I ever had a sex drive. I barely masturbate, and the times I do, it has not given me any good feelings. Maybe… fleeting feelings of lust but it was nothing strong or powerful, though. It always wells up only to go away again. I just ask myself, “why bother? There’s no one here tickling my fancy, so why bother developing something that somewhat resembles to an appetite.” I know I’m not asexual because I have actually felt it before.

I’m not a sexual being. I’m a lonely person with creepy tendencies. I’m not a sexy person, and I have never seen myself as such when I think about it.

Growing up, I just told people I was straight because I didn’t want them to know that I’m actually not. But… I do love men, though. I really love men, actually. I think men are absolutely gorgeous and decadent and sexy. Hell, I have a crush on a man right now. But I also love women, and nonbinary people. I landed on pansexual. It’s good to know that there’s a name for it, but I still have so much shame and anxiety and frustration about it. I can’t picture myself with someone, no matter what gender they are, out of both the fact that I’m just terrible at meeting someone and the fact that my severe lack of libido scares me. I’m frustrated by the mere presence of my own sexuality that I don’t know what to do with it and I have disowned it. It’s not mine and it never was mine to begin with. I want you to make fun of it because I know it’s stupid. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings by pointing and laughing, if anything I expect it. “It’s natural, enjoy yourself!” If it’s so fucking natural, why does no one care about it?

What struggles have you had with your sexuality?

I just keep hitting my head against the wall with these stupid, cringe questions in the hope that they should be helping me unpack the shame but they only make me feel worse because I remember how much of a fool I am. I vent but I find no way out of it. The suggested way out of it is so hackneyed that I don’t even want to bother trying it. There has to be a better way.

I don’t know how to feel comfortable with my desires and every time I try and seek out advice on how to feel more comfortable with them, it just… doesn’t feel good enough. The fact I seek out advice should say that I want to feel comfortable, but it’s not enough. The other thing is I have very specific taste. I read erotica or kink and there’s just so much more of it every time I turn around it seems, and none of it gets me rolling. Maybe I’m just picky, i’ll admit it.

When I was a teenager, no one ever made a pass on me, and I don’t understand why this is so hard to understand, either. Girls didn’t like me, period, and boys always gave me that awkward little smile whenever our eyes met. I didn’t actually start getting looks until about two years ago. I never dressed the part: I didn’t have to, even though I did consider it at times.

I feel so much shame about my sexuality that I find it hard to even so much as move some days. It’s a dead weight on my chest that makes it hard to breathe. Sex is just… something I don’t think about, and something I actually don’t want, either, like when I really think about it, I can take it or leave it. “It’s a beautiful, natural thing!” I see help bloggers tell me. Is it really, though? What’s beautiful about the hordes of consequences to it? What’s beautiful about having your body violated? What’s beautiful about the inability to orgasm, either by nature or outside circumstances catching up to you? What’s beautiful about putting your faith in someone else and your relationship with them can end randomly at any time? Call me cynical, but I can’t think about sex or relationships without thinking about the worst parts of it.

I don’t think about it all the time because I really have no reason to. I get no questions or interest in this part of me anyway, so why bother? And whenever I do, it’s always presumptuous. Everyone always thought I was seeing someone and they were shocked when I said I was single. Now I get absolutely nothing. I’m not saying I miss being interrogated like that—and the day I do is the day we’re all fucked—but why should I even bother putting inventory in something that no one cares about and I find unpleasant to talk about on top of that. It’s unpleasant. My sexuality is unpleasant and worth no one’s time. Not an iota of good feelings or memories to be found here. No, it’s all shit. It’s all garbage.

I always befriended guys, too, and everyone always thought we were “a relationship” (never was, though, it was all platonic), so when I befriended more, I would hear words like “player” or “not like the other girls” or “secretly lesbian” thrown my way when none of it was true. It got lonely really quick.

Another struggle is labeling it. OH GOD THIS. That whole phase I went through in 2021-2022 consisted of nothing but this, and i’m admittedly back there again. It always feels like I have a gun to my head, too, like I’m supposed to figure out a label and NOW. They’ll tell you to take your time with it and, believe me I did. But when you’re changing labels like people change their socks, and you’re surrounded by people who are just soooo comfortable in their fucking precious sexuality, it becomes less reassuring so fast. “But you’re not alone!” I have really grown to dislike the whole “you’re not alone” mantra mainly because it’s everywhere. You see the same word or phrase over and over again that it loses meaning.

I think my desires are trash and I don’t see eye to eye with the “real” raunchy people on this, either. I’m supposed to just be into good ol fashioned missionary and cowgirl and doggy style and maybe some light bdsm, any other kinks are weird and gross.

In what ways do you nurture your personal sense of sexuality, and/or sexual relationships?

I have no relationship. Never have, never will, either. I guess I just have too many biases about sex and sexuality, and I don’t know how to undo them, either. I don’t know how to nurture my sexuality, if anything I just want to leave it to waste. I don’t care about it. I don’t know how I’m supposed to care about it.

I guess… I draw. I draw what I love. I draw to exemplify the female gaze (and no one seems to understand that, either: to other people, I just “draw musicians” when I don’t. I do plenty of other things). I write. …I live on a mountain top, 20 minutes away from a trump bastion. I have no options.

I like jewel tones. I like odd colors like bright pink and green. I like black and white. I like stuff that’s form-fitting and also low-slung jeans: I do not like anything high-waisted unless it’s worn with crop tops, otherwise I hate it. I don’t get why everyone clutches at themselves at the mere mention of anything low-rise. I like denim and leather and silk and velvet and corduroy. I like stuff that’s low cut—leftover from being heavy and struggling with weight most of my life as I’ve tried to wear T-shirts and the collar always feels like it’s choking me. I like camisoles. I like pajamas. I like underwear: as much as I cringe at the thought of wearing lingerie, I do like just wearing a bra, and I do have a teddy in my closet. I like to wear jeans: I have never felt good in a dress before, aside from the flannel Patagonia ones I used to wear when I was little. I dunno, I find most dresses a bitch to walk around in and sit in, and I hate how skirts always wants to blow up (I’ve lived in windy areas my whole life): those flannel ones were short enough I could play around in them without having to put on pants, but they were warm and soft.

After a shower, I let my hair hang down for a few hours before I brush it: if I haven’t showered in a few days, I comb my bangs up into this pompadour upon my head so I have this Dennis Miller thing going until I feel like climbing into the shower for another round. My mom says I look like I came from the beach. Only makeup I have is chapstick and nail polish: when I was little, I’d put on lipstick and eyeshadow and mascara but I look like a cross between a clown and a hooker. “You’d be so much prettier, though!” No, I’m not, trust me.

Is all of this supposed to make me feel sexy? I feel like I’m missing something here.

Nope, sorry, I can’t touch myself and feel an ounce of pleasure. I touch my lips and my breasts, and I’m having a hard time seeing pleasuring myself as an art, too—I don’t know, it’s hard to put my head around it. What’s artful about sticking my finger up my clit to stimulate myself even though I know I won’t enjoy it?

My body? What about it? It was very skinny, it got very overweight, and now it’s losing weight. Any questions?

Why should I play dress up when I don’t get any attention? Dress for myself… I watch project runway and I really don’t see eye to eye with fashion, what’s considered “high fashion”: I don’t know if I just have piss poor taste or if fashion really is bullshit.

Write about your first sexual experiences. Interpret sexual experience any way like, even it’s about you first kiss.

“Even if it’s about your first kiss” I love how this assumes that everyone who does these things have had their first kiss, like yes, everyone gets some no matter how undesirable, unattractive, and fucked up they are.

There was the first time I touched myself. I was very young—I would think all children do this when they’re extremely young. I was in front of a mirror and I opened my legs and looked at myself there. I touched my clit the first time and I remember it really tickled me. I felt my labia and even stuck a finger or two in.

I did it in front of my conservative grandmother and she swatted my hand. 27 years ago or not, I remember it.

Write about your last sexual experience. How was it different from your first sexual experience?

So I’m (attempting, anyway) to make a habit of putting my hand down my shorts to touch myself while I’m just watching tv, much like how I like to pump my dumbbells when I’m being idle. First time I did it was weird. It tickled and I unlocked some odd feelings within me, and I don’t know if it was arousal at all: I felt a lot of anxiety, a lot of nausea, a lot of old often painful memories. I don’t know if I’m going with it all this week, simply because I don’t know if it did anything positive. 

But I just did it while I was watching tv, like I didn’t even think about it. Fingertips and fingernails on my clit, that was it—my mom was in the room, too.

What were you taught about sex as you grew up? What did you not know that you needed to know?

Sex ed from middle school onwards, plus I was told that all guys don’t care about me and just want to get in my pants over and over by my drug addict father. I was never told about pleasure or anything good or that kinks are good or the range of sexual orientations or anything genuinely useful. Just your standard “insert penis into vagina, don’t have babies until you’re ready and only do it to have a baby” and that was it. It was always having babies, too, like god forbid you ever want to have sex because it’s fun or what have you.

I was also bombarded by these messages of “don’t be promiscuous or a slut, don’t get a reputation, no one will want you otherwise” and “girls aren’t supposed to want sex because it’s gross and not ladylike.” Level up and always be ladylike or no one will love you. You have to always be ladylike and proper. I also heard bullshit like “if you have sex, you WILL get pregnant, FACT.” (i.e., the whole “men force abortion on women” thing that pro-life feminists claim is science fiction to me)

I was also always told “if you have sex, you’ll contract a disease, guarantee it”. Cue the nausea whenever someone asks me about some sex life that I allegedly have because apparently fucking everyone has a fucking sex life and yet nobody told me. I can’t win.

How has your views of sex changed over time?

My view of it is… cynical, to say in the least. I’m kind of, admittedly, starting to get the whole “reclaim your sexuality” thing, but I just because I’m starting to get it doesn’t mean I’m feeling in my power, though. I have no frickin power (lol, I said “frickin”). And I still hate the phrase “sexual being” for the same reason as before: everyone says it but the meaning is elusive and everyone assumes you should just know what it means. The future is not bright on this level, like i can’t put my head around the idea of someone wanting me.

I found those other questions (the one with the question that asks about vibrancy and I’m scratching my head about it) from some psychologist and those have helped me more than these: those are more specific and I can just look back on the past week, whereas these always made me angry.

The whole concept of “desirability” is completely alien to me, like no one ever told me about this until just recently. No. I’m not desirable and I never have been, either.

Describe a sexual fantasy you have.

Something with merfolk and the beach. It’s a story that’s always crossed my mind but I have never really had the time or energy to write it out.

Turn a sexual experience into a piece of short fiction. Describe the setting. Use dialogue. Write erotic description.

When you’re so inexperienced that even this feels in vain. I honestly envy people who can write things like erotic memoirs.

Write about the best sex partner you have ever been with. Describe a special time together.

She had five fingers, all without polish on the nails, which were a bit short and freshly trimmed. Her skin was smooth, a little dry but smooth.

I hadn’t been touched in some time and yet, while laying in bed one morning, those fingers wandered down to my belly button for a gentle caress. When I rolled over onto my back, she worked her way down to inside my underwear for a touch. She ever so gentle scratched me on the hood and it felt interesting. Neither good nor bad, but interesting. It got me thinking.

(Got really tired of saying I’m a virgin all the time)

What changes if any would you like to make about your sexual self?

All of it. I want to change all of it. This is supposed to be pleasurable, right? Why am I so anxious?

I have no control. I have no sense of a grasp on it. I hardly ever think about it. I’m desperately trying—and failing��to figure out what I want and need. I hate that I have no sex drive once I really, really think about it—and I swore I did. I can’t handle myself. I have NO self-esteem in this area. And I’m so depressed about all of this that I find I’m just so completely overwhelmed by this.

Write a sexual confession to your partner or someone you admire. Be straight forward or as kinky as you would like.

I have a crush on you. That’s all I have to say. I don’t know how you’re going to react to me from here on out, and I also don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I have to be blunt now. I have a crush on you. I have no control whatsoever, but I have a crush on you. It’s stupid, I know.

What would you like to learn about your sexual self?

Really, just… why am I like this? That was a criticism I saw of my cartoons when I first started making them was “why do they look like that?” And I wish I could say more than “they just do.”

I have the worst luck with relationships—I really mean it: I didn’t start getting looks until a couple of years ago, NO ONE looked at me and I never believed it when someone told me about that boy checking me out (there never was any boy). I have never been asked out, only fixed up and spent a weekend with a friend that was jokingly treated as a date. 

What is there to learn here? Why I’m so bad at this? I can tell you that without even thinking twice about it: no one ever encouraged me. I grew up with the most backwards views on sexuality and there’s no end in sight even as I’ve grown up.

I’m not a sexual person. I just heard so many bad things and stories about sex and sexuality along the way that I fucking refuse to ever believe that it can even be a source of pleasure. I heard so many times to look away whenever two people kissed or that any romance was met with eye rolls (but you know, feel free to kiss out in public: cue the confusion). What does it mean to even be desirable, like what the fuck is that?

I have such specific tastes, like i can’t read anything erotic without wondering how it fits with what I like, and it never does.

I guess… my values? But I did that before—they’re love, curiosity, well-being, quality, autonomy, and fun—but I don’t feel good about it, though.

Really, the best way to look at my sexuality is to look at my art, because I draw what I love and what I find interesting. And yet no one seems to understand this. I remember when my dad pulled me aside and told me I should stop “because all I do is draw musicians.” No, I draw people I find attractive and interesting: some of them just so happen to play music.

What part of your sexuality seems the most mysterious to you?

Not necessarily to me specifically, but what’s this whole thing that sex is supposed to be holistic and sacred? The way it gets shoved into our faces on a regular basis while being treated as just the worst thing ever, it obviously isn’t.

I’m so lost on values. I mean, it’s bad enough that when I think about what I value on a non-sexual level, I can’t even answer that: throw sex into the mix and I feel like I’m walking through a fog.

I’m so lost on labels and who I’m attracted to, too. No, I’m sorry, I can’t take my time, this is driving me nuts.

When you hesitate to write something, what reminder can you give yourself to be as completely honest as you can, both factually and emotionally?

“I’m the only one here.”

What, if anything, about sex distresses you?

I worry about getting pregnant, and I’ve always known that this is why I’m so bored with regular old penetrative sex, and why I feel genuinely repulsed by the affluence of it in fanfic: it’s the weirdest thing to me, it’s like everyone has baby fever, whereas I don’t want children. Plus, I’m genuinely grossed out by the thought of being filled with cum.

I worry about falling ill, too. Need I say more.

My poor stomach has been through a lot, too: I worry about having to run to the bathroom.

The fact that i’ll never have it, either. I’m a virgin at 30. 30 year olds have had it several times, i’m lucky to have some rando on the street even look at me.

I just don’t like talking about sex, either. People are so comfortable talking about sex and all things sex and I’m usually thinking about a million different other things like it doesn’t even cross my mind.

Are we surprised that I hate this side of life?

What change would you like to make in your sexual behavior?

I don’t know how to be sexy, like I’m genuinely surprised when someone tells me something I did was hot. Worse, I don’t know if they’re saying that just because or if it’s sincere.

Wait. I’m supposed to enjoy myself? What?

What change would you like to make in your sexual attitudes or thoughts?

I don’t know what sex means to me. It’s just a thing that happens and I’m trying to understand the beliefs about it. No one is attracted to me, I get nothing out of it, and I simply don’t “get some”, either, so why should I bother?

The reason why I’ve been holding back so much is because I cringe at myself, at my true thoughts and I worry about being found out. I cringe at what I like, and it always happens after the fact. I cringe because I’ve been taught to cringe. I know nothing I think or feel matters, especially on a sexual level.

What even is sex appeal? Is it just some natural quality that just automatically comes to select people? What is this?

What change would you like to make in your sexual emotions or feelings?

I feel like there’s something wrong with me. There’s something wrong with me… for being attracted to men, like I’m so ashamed of this. I’m attracted to men and I feel bad about it. My sex drive is so fucking low and I’m helpless to change that.

I have emotions all tied up in sexual desire so it’s hard to tell the difference between the two.

What memories came to mind from the previous questions?

Nothing good or happy. 

What do you like most about your current partner? Least?

I’m a virgin. 🎵 I’ll be cleaning my gun… 🎵

Make three (or more) sexual wishes. Don't hold back!

I wish I could talk about this freely. I wish I was hot. I wish I was accepted. I wish I belonged. I wish I didn’t have to worry. I wish I couldn’t feel hysterical laughter whenever I say I’m a virgin. I wish I had a sexuality that worked. I wish I could crush normally. I wish I had power and prowess and agency. I wish I had everything that I don’t have and can’t have.

Make a list of your sexual partners and write a few phrases to describe the relationship. What patterns do you see?

After years of research, I finally came to the perfect scientific conclusion: I’m a virgin and I’m lucky to have anyone even look at me. STOP USING THE WORD “PARTNER”! PLEASE!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!

If you have a sexual partner now, write about this relationship. What works for you in this sexual relationship? What would you like to change?

Boy, you know, my hand not only does things to my clit and tits, but it can also become a fist to break the face of whoever implores the regular use of a clinical, completely loveless and soulless word like “partner”.

Describe what your ideal sexual relationship would look like today.

I don’t know. I don’t know what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. I know what an unhealthy relationship looks like, so I guess … healthy is the opposite? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.

If you have been sexually dissatisfied, what has kept you in the relationship?

Doesn’t apply.

Are you able to ask your partner for what you want sexually? How do you do that?

Nope, and I wouldn’t know how to ask, either. If I have a hard time asking my mom if we could get soup on a grocery trip, what makes anyone think I am going to feel at ease asking if I want to be fingered.

If you have difficulty asking for what you want, what are you telling yourself that makes asking difficult?

“They won’t care. They’re gonna laugh at me and reject me. They’re going to get angry with me. This is stupid and gross and crass and we all know it. Why do I even bother.”

What are your sexual limits with your partner?

First of all, don’t ever call me your “partner”, I fucking hate that word. I hate how normie it is, I hate how everyone uses it including couples who have been together a long time… I want to know when it was normalized because it’s so sterile and cold and influencer-y. Call me that and I’ll leave. “But nonbinary people use it”, see, that, I understand completely, barring it’s implied that someone in the couple isn’t cishet. But I can’t tell just by looking at you. Trust me, I learned the hard way on that. I have so much baggage with “partner” that writing it just leaves a weird taste in my mouth.

Second, NO CREAMPIES. I- no, just… no.

The word “daddy” has been all but ruined for me, too.

What sexual behavior won't you do or would do only under certain conditions? Write about those to clarify your boundaries.

Please don’t overdo pain. I like a little bit, but my body is actually very sensitive and too much pain is too much.

I don’t like it too rough: I’m slow and sensual for the most part, but a little quickness goes a long way if I think about it.

No period sex, please. I don’t know, just… b l o o d on the good sheets or nice upholstery, and my own, no less.

In what way might your relationship with your partner deepen or improve by talking openly about sex?

I change my mind from before, and I can’t see talking about sex doing anything good. “Communication is key!” You know, just because you say it a bunch of times, doesn’t mean it’s necessarily true. I guess it’s just my inexperience talking but when I really look at this, I’m starting to question my answer before. I can’t see a conversation doing any justice, like it really is a make or break situation.

Can you recall your first discovery of sexual fantasy? What was it about?

All I know is I was very young and I didn’t understand what was happening, either.

Write out three of your favorite sexual fantasies. If this is new to you, make one up now.

Okay, fine. I have worked with fantasy before, and I thought I hadn’t a shred of sexual fantasy before. Seasons Grey is pure fantasy, with the whole teacher-student trope at the core. Love Is Not Enough is fantasy, with the strippers at the root. Blood & Chocolate is all about my food fetish and belly kink. All my kinktober one shots are fantasies. Hell, you know what, any fics that come out of me have some kind of a fantasy embedded inside of them: I just wasn’t really aware of it.

How have you used your sexual fantasies up until now?

Haven’t, at least not outside of writing. I hate how this assumes that I can, too.

What began as a fantasy that you later took into action?

The time I told Alex I’m in love with his voice. It was way before I wrote voice kink one shot in eclipse, too. That one in particular was admittedly fun to write.

What sexual fantasies work the best to arouse you?

I was pretty aroused writing Chave do Mar: Alex as a merman with a long shark tail, smooth milky skin, and black curls tousled over his shoulder. Same with Blood & Chocolate, too: Alex being over fed and it shows up on his body. The Black Orchid scenes from now it’s dark were pretty hot, too, when I think back to writing them: Joey surrounded by burlesque strippers.

I don’t think I can use any of them to really get me off.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a friend? What was the reaction?

…it’s pretty across the board.

Have you shared your sexual fantasies with a lover? What was the reaction?

I don’t know if I could be courageous enough to do that.

How important is it for you to share your sexual fantasies? What are your reasons for sharing or not? Does sharing fantasies break their "spell"?

You know that fanfic meme that talks about writing your dream fanfic filled with all your fantasies and dreams but choosing not to and keeping it locked away in your mind because you want it to yourself? Yeah, I don’t relate to that at all—then again , i don’t relate to fanfic memes, period (“oh, I should be writing but I’m on tumblr hur hur”, get a life, all of you). I write them out because I want to make sense of them for the most part. I’ve never really seen them as all that mystifying: just these weird little scenes that roll around inside me. I literally don’t care, they’re stupid and pointless and painfully unsexy.

What, if anything, do you find distressing about your sexual thoughts or fantasies? Write about that to clarify it for yourself.

On their own, I don’t think they’re special or gossip-worthy or revolutionary or life-changing. They just are what they are.

But just the fact they exist distresses me. Why do I feel this way? Why am I doing this? This isn’t normal. Everyone is judging me and mocking me.

If you could say three things to the world about the nature of your personal sexuality and really be heard, understood, and accepted, what would you say?

I’ve got nothing. I don’t think I would really be heard, understood, and accepted no matter what I said. Everyone forgets my name eventually.

What were the main messages (directly or indirectly) that you learned about sex? Which messages did you keep or reject?

(Yeah, I replaced the next two with different ones from another place because I genuinely don’t remember when I first learned the feelings of arousal, nor do I give a shit about a stupid poem that I can’t emulate from anyway because I never experienced “great sexuality or eroticism” in my life)

I was basically taught that sex is dirty and for men’s desire only: women are not supposed to desire it, plus all men are perverts and rapists—anyone who says otherwise is lying. I was also taught that men just want to objectify you and use you for their pleasure. I was also taught that you have to be a certain height and body weight or you’re unattractive and therefore disposable. I never heard “beautiful” thrown my way from my peers: it was always from my parents; I heard “ugly” from my peers more than anything. I didn’t learn jack shit about the lgbtq+ community until I was like 19. I was taught strict gender roles. I was taught that my personal boundaries are meaningless and I’m free real estate.

I don’t think sex is dirty, but I don’t know how I feel about it being “sacred” or “holistic”. If I’m not supposed to desire it, what the hell am I doing? Oh, yeah, like women can’t objectify men when I see it in droves. BMI is eugenics. Gender roles are bullshit. Bonus: not everyone is meant to have children, and not everyone is meant for a relationship.

Which of the five senses is most sexual to you?

Sense of touch. The feeling of smooth skin, of a warm curvy body, of soft hair, of bristly hair… it gets very sexual when you think about it.

Describe your first sexual encounter. How old were you? Was it consensual? If not, what resources have you used to help heal from that encounter? If it was consensual, what did that experience mean to you at the time?

I was 18 and it was the day that Dan Wheldon was killed. I had just gotten home and a text from my dad about it. I get online to find a boy who used to sit behind me in geometry class completely beside himself because Dan was his hero. I remember it was Sunday evening, around dinner time: I told him I had to get something to eat because I was hungry and I would be right back. I came back and we talked for hours. Evening became night, and then I blurted out something that made him laugh, and then he made me laugh. One thing leads to another and I say something kind of sexual and it went from there. We chatted and texted back and forth for a few weeks after that until I got slammed with midterms.

As for meaning, I’m not sure. I don’t know how to feel about it, either. I don’t even know if it counts as an encounter, either, but it’s all I got.

Who was your first romantic, sexual partner? What about him or her appealed most to you? What did you hope would happen with that relationship?

Aside from the above, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never had a girlfriend. 30 years old and I have never even been kissed. I got sick and tired of hearing “oh, you’ll find love some day” when I was 17, and now I know in my heart it won’t ever happen. I’ll never forget this one time when my dad was talking about one of my old friends and his girlfriend and how they “look so cute together” and I pointed out how it made me very uncomfortable and he gave me that “you’ll find love some day” without even a second thought.

It’s so exploitative, a little condescending, too, like it tells me everyone has bought into the whole “there’s someone for everyone” horse shit when I learned a long time ago that it’s horse shit. And it’s unfair, like you don’t know how my life will turn out. I don’t even know how my life is going to turn out. I’m just stating a fact, I didn’t ask for you to be fortune teller.

Do you believe that sex and emotional intimacy are linked, or is it possible to have a sexual relationship without emotional attachment? What experiences influence your answer?

The two can exist without each other. Casual sex is a thing, plus you can be emotionally attached but not want it.

Just… my own observations about this. I thought I was asexual and, even though I’m not, I did learn this along the way.

If you could have the perfect sex life right now, what would that look like?

The idea of me having a sex life, period, is so beyond me, like I don’t know what it’s even supposed to be. No, I don’t deserve sex or romance. Those are reserved for people who are well-adjusted.

How do you define “awesome” sex (i.e. what makes sex better than good)?

Makes me think of “awesome sauce”, which completely sucks the eroticism out of this. What even quantifies as “good sex” anyways?

How do you feel about PDA? (You can take this as far as “kinks in public,” too.)

Can’t stand it. Can’t stand seeing it, can’t stand the thought of it happening to me; some things are just better left in private. As for kinks in public, though? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.

What do you think about when you masturbate?

I do it when I’m watching tv so I’m not really thinking about anything.

What are your sure-fire turn-ons (and/or turn-offs)?

Turn-ons: touches, really all over my body. I like soft touch. I like being held. I like fantasy. I like intelligence. I like sweetness. I’m all about feeling and being close. I love Alex’s chest hair. I love Eric in knit sweaters with white buttons. I like boys in crop tops and leather that shows off their skin. I like velvet. I like silk. I like denim and corduroy.

What are your thoughts about porn?

One complaint I do have with it is the unrealistic expectations. No guy is like that. No girl is like that. I have no opinion at this point, actually.

What are your thoughts on foreplay? Favorite types? Best experiences? Wishes?

It’s still underrated. A few kisses or hickeys on a sensitive spot like on the neck or the belly, or fingers on the labia and lips on the thighs can take you a long way, and I can say that just from my own writing.

What parts of your lover’s body are you most drawn to? (If you don’t currently have a lover, feel free to consider past or future lovers.)

“Lover” is another pathetically overused word. My eyes have always wandered to the middle of the body. I don’t care if it’s slim and delicate or round and thick, either, I want to feel and hold, especially there.

If you were to “recreate” the early days of your favorite sexy relationship, what would they look like? Would you change anything?

It’s weird to think that I can actually answer this: I don’t think I would change anything. Maybe I could have been a little more upfront with him about how I feel about him earlier on because I just think about that one night in March-ish 2021, but there was a point to that, though. I wanted to ease into it, and there had to be some sort of opportunity to find with him because I see people hitting on him all the time, and I always think I’m being inappropriate with him, oh my god 🫣.

He feels so elusive now, and I have no doubt that fucking… I don’t even know what to call her, but she has a lot to do with it. I’ve seen how he is outside of her, though: he’s Mr. Social. When she enters the picture, he’s suddenly Mr. Standoffish Homebody, like someone flipped a switch, it’s unsettling, tbh.

What do you want more of in your sex life?

I don’t know. I’m boring.

Would you ever visit a sex therapist? What would be the reason and what do you think their advice would be for you?

Sign me up.

Why do I have a sexuality in the first place.

They’re probably going to give me some of the same old shit I see when I ask Google, so no, I take that back, I want my money back.

Is there anything about sex that embarrasses you, causes shame or fear, or makes you nervous? Or…what’s the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you during sex?

My fear of pregnancy and disease plus I worry about shitting myself.

Just the act itself. I literally can’t imagine anyone being that crazy about me, like I am not beautiful, I am not sexy… and I hate the expectation that comes with those words, like “you’re a woman! Be beautiful and sexy 24/7!” Fuck off. I could go away right now and no one would care or wonder what it would have been like to make love to me or toss a dick in me.

Talking about it makes me unbelievably nervous, too, like there’s a reason why I apologize for indulging in kink. I know it’s gross.

What do you tend to fantasize or dream about when it comes to sex? What kinds of porn or kink are you drawn to?

Last night, I ventured through the voice kink, belly kink, leather, latex, and lingerie tags. Don’t really know what to make of that, though.

If you were to create a sexy playlist intended for a hot date at home, what would be on it?

I have never made a sexy playlist in my life so I wouldn’t know where to start. This is another thing I have to look up because I don’t know.

What are your love languages and how do they apply to your sexual needs? What about your lover?

I’m all about touch and spending time. I am touch-starved and I have all the time in the world. 

No idea how it applies to my voice kink but do I have to say how it applies to my textile kink, my belly kink, my hair kink, my water kink, my wax kink, or anything? “What about your lover”, piss right off.

How do you feel about being naked?

No opinion. It just … is what it is. I don’t fixate on flaws (I never could, either, even with my troubled relationship with myself), nor do I see it as a beautiful thing: it just it what it is. I take care of myself but that’s about it. What do you do with it. Why is this controversial. Now, when I think about being naked with someone else, look the other way.

What’s your favorite way to be seduced?

You put your guitar on your lap, you brush your hair really nice, you have this little twinkle in your eye like you’re up to no good or you’re secretly going commando out of camera, you have a glass of wine in hand, and you talk in a very soft, husky voice when I ask you about your underwear. I think.

Do you have any trust issues surrounding sex or your sexual relationship(s)?

I have nothing but trust issues when it comes to sex. It’s honestly horrifying.

What do you look like, and sound like, when sex feels good for you?

Whenever I write something erotic, every so often I have to stop myself and close my eyes because I feel things moving. I get really quiet (everyone talks about screaming during sex: I’m the exact opposite, I get really quiet) and my hands start itching for the feeling. I bite my lip a lot, too—sometimes I do that without even thinking, like it just happens. It’s a long slow burn with me.

This is literally all I’ve got, sorry.

What is the most sexually daring thing you’ve ever done?

Flirted with Alex on stories. I’ve always fucking sucked at flirting (I once went for five years without flirting with anyone because I suck so hard at it), let alone with a guy like him. I love calling him “baby” and by his name, especially.

Flirted with Eric on stories (I called him “big guy”) and got him to take a selfie from the toilet. Wish I was making that up.

I asked “are we going to see a Jeff Becerra OnlyFans any time soon?” and mf literally replied with “only if the price is right” and the eggplant emoji, even though I was just joking around.

Any time I post risqué art on instagram because they’re assholes with that sort of thing. No clue how threads’ll react to it.

When now it’s dark was being written and I posted those ink drawings on instagram (completely oblivious to the fact Joey was watching me).

There was also one time in school one of my friends had his pants hanging down a bit and I tried to pants him and he caught me. I did get to pinch his butt when no one was looking, though.

In your opinion, what does it mean to be good in bed?

I don’t know what this means.

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

WHYYYYYYYYYYY would I do this?

When and how did you lose your virginity, and how did you feel about it? How do you feel about it now?

I’ll probably die a virgin. 

Have you ever had sex with more than one person at a time, watched others have sex, been watched? If not, would you?

I think I’m polyamorous so I’d definitely try it. As for voyeurism… maybe I’d like to be watched? Don’t know about watching others, though.

How often do you masturbate and what works best for you?

Well, I started doing it again, during idle moments when I’m not doing anything. I’m just using my fingers right now: let’s see how it goes. I can’t say I’ll have any desire to use a toy. Maybe I’m not doing it right because I have done it but I barely get off at all, and I’m more disgusted with myself than anything.

Maybe I’m just not trying enough, but I look at some on lingerie sites like Spencer’s or wherever, and I shake my head. “Find one that’s best for you”, they tell me. Yeah, but nothing here is jumping out at me. I’m going to look ridiculous in lingerie, too.

What are you most grateful or thankful for in your sex life?

Nothing. Literally nothing. Grateful for the pain? The headaches? The heavy feeling in my chest?

What is your favorite sexual position, and why?

Cowgirl, I guess?

Have you ever had an “inappropriate” crush? What was it about that person that drew you in, and what made it “not okay”?

I have one right now, on Alex. He’s kind of everything I love in another person: he’s intelligent, he’s musical, he’s passionate about what he does, he’s very sensual with a very sensual voice, he’s sweet, he’s an animal lover, he’s got an interesting appearance…

Problem is he’s older and more established and living clear across the country from me… and he’s already got a relationship. The thing that bothers me most about it is I really, truly want to like her, I really do, I’m not joking about this, but I can’t bring myself to do it. She irritates the ever-loving fuck out of me. It’s like… do you ever see someone and for whatever reason, they rub you the wrong way and you nope right out of it (plus, you’re afraid to fuck around and find out)? That’s me with her. I don’t get what he sees in her, like I always want to puke whenever he tags her in a post.

I can’t explain it but there’s something weirdly mean-spirited about her, mean-spirited and kind of nefarious. I think it’s the way she’s like “I’m a shy person” and yet all the shy people I’ve known didn’t even bother with social media or the internet altogether, like they didn’t have an Instagram just to spite itself. This, and the fact she refuses to join in photographs with him… something about it just doesn’t hit right.

The whole thing, my crush on him and my dislike of her, it’s stupid. I feel really stupid.

Have you (or would you) ever tried role play? What roles are you drawn to?

I guess the student-teacher thing or the human-vampire thing or the human-merperson thing. I don’t care if it happens or not.

Are you more dominant or submissive (or a bit of both)?

Both. Yes, even with as much as I hate the stereotypical female role and find it restrictive, there’s a sub in me.

How do you feel about your own body?

I don’t like it. What’s worse is I don’t know what I dislike about it, it’s just this overall, generalized feeling. Parents called me beautiful but if my piss-poor track record with my peers and crushes and this whole thing here is anything to go by… it should be clear that I’m not good-looking. I only started actually getting hit on very recently, and looking at my appearance when I was a teenager, I did not look good at all. It makes sense that no one ever made a pass on me.

I’ve posted pictures of myself online before and I have literally gotten blocked for it. They weren’t anything risqué, either, they were just… my face. Or me in a t-shirt or a camisole because I like wearing those. But I see people who are *okay looking* (like I could see them on the street willy-nilly but they won’t make me turn my head) get hundreds of likes or notes. I see people—I’m gonna catch hell for this; I have nothing to lose—who are ugly, like uglier than me, get the likes and called “beauty queens” and shit. I hope people realize just how hurtful it is, and I hope that people realize that telling me to “just be confident” in the face of that is genuinely insulting.

How sorry do you have to feel for a person having sex with you?

Sorrier than sorry. Why bother. I can’t give you pleasure or anything, anything other than tears. Just go to sleep.

Could someone know you sexually, properly know you, and still like you?

A certain someone knows about me sexually and I have no clue if he likes me, and it’s not the boy I cybered with, either.

[idlyfretting]

sneak peek of part 3 (the final chapter) of he was turned to steel

read it on ao3 here

Dustin was pretty sure his ankle was going to fall off. He hated to admit it, but Steve had probably been right to keep bugging him about staying off it for a few days. Once he’d gotten the boot for it and was able to leave the crutches behind, he’d been back and forth between Eddie and Max every few hours, only stopping to sleep when one of the older kids forced him to lie down. It was taking every bit of restraint he had to not sit down and prop his foot up on the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He shifted slightly where he stood next to Mr. Munson, putting more weight on his good leg. The older man glanced down at him. “You can sit down if that’s bothering you.”

The empty plastic seat next to Gareth was tempting but Dustin stayed where he was. The pain in his leg wasn’t annoying enough to outweigh the swirling anxiety in his gut. 

He knew he’d messed up back in Max’s room. He was trying to hold onto the anger, but it was turning into shame a whole lot quicker than he wanted. Hopper had said something stupid, but he’d been dead for months (imprisoned? Dustin wasn’t too clear on the details of that yet). It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t around to help this time. Plus he’d looked about two seconds from collapsing ever since he’d limped into Max’s room. And Steve, Nancy, and Robin had explained everything to the newly arrived group, but they’d glazed over a lot of information. 

Everyone needed to get on the same page, and Dustin hadn’t helped by storming off and dragging Mike with him. The other boy didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move away from Eddie though, so it looked like Dustin would be hobbling back alone.

“I actually need to get back.”

Mr. Munson raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t object. Mike looked up at the statement but Dustin waved him off. “It’s fine, just come back in a bit.” 

The hallway was empty when the door shut behind him and he took a moment to just stand there and breathe. Everyone is still alive. That’s what he had to keep telling himself. They were significantly more banged up this time, but everyone was alive. Even Hopper. 

Dustin’s mom had always been one to look on the bright side of things, even when the situation was categorically terrible. He tried to channel that energy now as he walked toward Max’s room. Vecna was gone, hopefully forever. Two of their group were in the hospital but no one was dead, and someone they had thought was dead had actually turned out to be alive the whole time. They’d started off this whole nightmare of a week in three groups separated by thousands of miles, but now they were all in one place. Hawkins was a mess, but the dimensions hadn’t merged and no new gates seemed to have been opened besides the ones they already knew about. 

Not that they had gone looking or anything. Dustin had only left the hospital once, when his mother had shown up and physically dragged him out of the building. He’d complained the whole way home, taken a short shower, and slept for ten hours straight. When he’d woken up, he’d immediately called Steve to come pick him up. 

Everyone else had been the same, too afraid to be separated for longer than necessary, even if they were technically safe at the moment. 

Raised voices down the hall interrupted his thoughts. They were coming from around the corner at the end of the hallway. Dustin crept forward slowly, passing Max’s room and stopping just past the last door. 

“I don’t care about your policies. And neither do you if you’re going to pick and choose which ones to follow apparently. This is bullshit–Let go of him!”

That was Robin. 

Dustin peeked around the corner and couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp. Robin and Steve were surrounded by at least four police officers. Robin was being held back by one, all but yelling in the face of who Dustin recognized as the chief. Steve was being cuffed by another, body facing away from Dustin.

Steve.

Who’d apparently beaten the absolute shit out of the guys who came looking for Eddie tonight. 

[watery-pancake]

Short Story

Idk why I've been posting them lately. Or rather, just the last two posts. I think I do, a little.

I've been talking to F less lately. I'm pulling away, getting bored. It always happens, right once I'm comfortable with someone, I start to miss the fights and the sleepless nights filled with dread and anxiety. It's a poisonous drug I'm addicted to. I miss him so much, but I feel like asking to come over will make me weak and pathetic.

I told him about it. About an experience growing up. I won't go into detail, because I don't want to start shaking. It was during finals week, and I'd just about burnt myself out from the sheer amount of studying I was doing. I was at his house, and he was a saint. He made sure I ate, held me while I sobbed how overwhelmed I was and spoke such soft words I never thought I could hear from him. He's usually the type that when I say something really personal about my feelings for him he just shoots me a thumbs up or says "oh cool". I know it's from how awkward he is with expressing this kind of stuff.

Or maybe it isn't as mutual as I hope it is.

Idk.

Whatever, that's not the point. The point is I burnt myself out to the point that even a small trigger to those locked memories just made me explode. It's not something I ever thought I'd tell him. Or anyone. I always wanted to keep it inside, safe, where no one could know about the years I experienced this.

I feel like he judges me. He doesn't say it. But I feel it in the silences. That I'm dirty and disgusting. Worthless piece of human garbage. Pathetic for letting it happen.

I keep showering, to the point the skin on my upper arms is becoming red and painful. No amount of scrubbing will make me feel clean. I go over the same areas, trying desperately to find new parts to clean. I eat more out of anxiety, disgusted by the shape my body can never change from. I clean dishes, my hands too, even if they are pruned I keep washing.

I keep seeing his messages pop up, and I have to hold myself back to respond, like a dog on a leash. I just think about how he knows what happened to me and how he must just feel pity for me at this point. Or wants to use me as a joke for how stupid I must have been. It haunts me.

I bought a bottle of bourbon a couple of weeks ago, but never touched it. I got it kind of as a sign of "I'm doing well in life, let me be one of those pretentious people who has a fancy sounding alcohol instead of the cheap vodkas I usually get." I didn't plan on drinking it, ever, until the other day when I just broke down.

I couldn't stop shivering despite how warm the room was, or freaking out despite my calming environment. Nothing was wrong, but it felt so wrong to let this secret of myself out. I promised myself to tell no one. No one can ever know this disgusting thing happened.

I was so stupid, that in a vulnerable state I let myself speak. I'd never said it out loud before, nor gone through the mental process to think of the men. I'd just remembered "oh that happened" and that was it. No details, like the ones that he heard. He just laid there and listened. And I am disgusted in me.

I wish I could run away forever. Forget I ever happened. I'm hoping a little that happens, kind of. Go back to the same bullshit I did with Tristen by socially isolating myself from absolutely everyone and everything in my life for years on end. I'm exhausted of human interaction. I'm exhausted by myself.

I don't know why I keep journaling. I know in years that I'll feel too embarrassed by my pretentious language and how dumb I'm being when it seems like common sense what I should do. It's not like anyone is gonna read it anyways. I guess it does help, to at least let it out to something that can't judge or criticize me. I can talk to F, but he'll try to fix it.

I can't be fixed, and I don't know how to explain that to him.

[insanechayne]

I hate this feeling of knowing I need to cry and not being able to. Knowing I need to have my little breakdown to purge the bullshit from my system, yet it feels like my chest is bricked up again.

12 hours ago I was struggling to keep the dam from breaking, just waiting until I could get home from work and let myself go in peace and comfort and safety. 12 hours ago it felt like I’d had to duct tape the broken and bloody thing inside me back together so that I could hold on and make it through my shift. Now I’m barely getting trickles of feelings, and I wonder if I’m going numb.

Is it better to be numb? Does this mean I got over things much quicker than I expected to? Or does this just signal a much worse breakdown in the distance, one I won’t be able to control later on down the line?

And the worst part is, I was crushed by someone who had initially said they wanted to help me with my anxiety and be a safe person for me to talk to. I formed a close friendship with this person, talked to them every single day, gave up parts of myself that I hadn’t done for anyone else, and they used all of it against me and then slammed the door in my face.

All I wanted was a friend, and all they wanted was a toy. Something they could throw away so easily when things got too difficult.

And I have to wonder why this keeps happening to me. What’s the lesson I’m supposed to be learning here? Seems whenever I get close to someone they just use my vulnerabilities and anxieties against me and walk out of my life like I don’t matter at all. What was the point of any of the shit I went through with them? Why do I keep caring and putting my effort into the wrong people?

Is it too much to ask for someone to actually care about me when they tell me they do? For someone not to manipulate me and lie to me and use me? I guess it must be.

Sometimes I just wish I didn’t have to wake up anymore, because this is the kind of shit I’m dealing with by still being alive. I’m tired of the pain and the anxiety and the depression eating me alive. I’m tired of making mistakes and falling back into old patterns. I’m tired of always being wrong and doing stupid shit.

I just don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I didn’t deserve any of this, but I guess in some way I must since it happened.

I just want it all to be over for a while

[knucklegagging]

I know this is mostly an anorexia tumblr account but tbh I havent been really struggling w my anorexia lately. Found old emaciated pictures and I think thats a lot of the reason why. Side by side my highest weight and lowest weight one looks weak and the other looks sexy. And Like... I wanna live. If i can. Especially now. And maybe a lot of this is that I was dealing shit no one is ever supposed to talk about but I have never been fat. I have been big busted hourglass booty girl slimthicc milkshake walking cunstain looking barbie body. And I have been emaciated. Thats so weird to really notice for the first time in my twenties. And it's not like I've been actively wanting to die or anything intense like that, but I didnt know life could feel good. And lately it really does. And my set range right now is 111 to 116. Which is healthy, as is my bfp. So i get that this is an anorexia tumblr account primarily... But maybe it doesnt always have to be? Idk tonight just feels really good. The girl I like seems to like me. And by that i mean shes made it clear she does in more ways than one. And frankly ive been a migraine and she still around. Its been a lot to adjust to. I have not been an easy person for her to be around. At least, i know I would be tired of my anxiety bullshit by now. She has so much patience and kindess and goodness in her soul. I feel like I have known her before, almost like memories from a dream that you woke up from too quickly. The taste of thoughts percolate my mouth with painful dripping sighs that crave to know her better, like filling in the blanks. Theres something so different, so unmistakable about the way that she is.

I dont know how to comfort myself at times because I cannot be running away in the opposite directiom but sticking my heels into blue on the treadmill next to her is terrifying. I get these scared moments thinking that I am going to ruin everything in one fell swoop w one stupid comment or being too hyper, talking too much, saying shit she wouldnt care about, moving too fast, not moving fast enough, not being whatever it is she expects of me. ...but yet she just roll w the punches. I dont want her to know how inexperienced i am w relationships. I dont want her to know anything bad thats happened to me and have it sour the interest that she has in me. I'm like paranoid that somehow she would find this blog and see my thoughts spelled out even though ik she won't. That wouldnt happen. But out of nowhere sometimes I just get scared like she will wake up one morning and decide I am not good enough. That I am too autistic or I have too much of a past behind me. That I have already been defiled and that makes me too much drama. I cant say that sentence out loud. I can't say many if any things out loud. I am always writing them down for her.

I am terrified about how to play my sleeves. At some point she will probably see my arms or thighs if we continue to spend time w each other. How the fuck is that all supposed to play out? Do i pretend its nothing and just rip the bandaid off? Wear a tank top when i see her next? That sounds dumb. There is no way to gradually unveil my body in ways that are not jarring when you have as many scars as I do. I like myself fine I just sometimes notice how much i do not know and that can psyche me out. But today has been good. Tonight has been happy. I am very much okay today. I just wish time would move faster slowly, so that i can know how we end up so that i can have a road map. I want thw answers for how to behave so that i dont cause any problems for her. If i could read her mind, if i could see the future, if i could know now what i will know then about whether i am going to make her life difficult... I am so scared. I am so happy. But I am also so scared.

Whats gonna happen when I am really visible and she can really see me? I've done so well at being invisible. With her I dont want to be. But it is all unknown and I'm a big ol scaredycat

[monengshits]

STUPID SHITS

I'm getting anxious again. I need to let this out.

'Nung time na nag-open si Jom sa'kin sa malaking kasalanan niya, I hit a massive wave. To a point where I'm fully drowned with pain, depression and anxiety. All along, sinusubukan kong ayusin 'yung sa'min e 'yun pala he's enjoying his life being selfish. Hays. Kaya at that moment I've decided to call it quits. I didn't ended it. I'm just done with his shits kaya nag-deactivate ako, try to not talk to people and be out with nature.

Pero 'di niya ako kayang mawala according to his friends that I've talked with. 'Nung nagkausap usap kami ni Jom, I asked kung gusto ba niyang magawa mga gusto niyang gawin sa buhay niya para sana I can decide whether I'll walk away na lang or just be quiet the whole time and let myself heal naman. Gusto daw niyang gawin mga gusto niya pero he wants me around. Unfair naman sa part ko dahil sobra sobra na 'yung sakit na dinaranas ko. The kind of pain that really kills me inside and I can no longer tolerate it. Ang lala na ng anxiety ko and 'di ko na rin kilala sarili ko. 'Di ko na rin ramdam at 'di ko na alam mabuhay. Kaya that's where I've decided to just pause for awhile. Gawin niya lahat ng gusto niya pero it won't matter to me anymore. Kasi unti unti ko na sanang tatanggapin. 'Dun na lang ako sa part kung sa'n may full control ako at kaya ko pang mabago. Which is myself, my mind and my decisions.

But somehow thing's are going back. Tipong lumambot si Jom, asking me how my day went, if I ate na, or ano lakad ko ganon. At first, wala lang sa'kin kasi baka mamaya sa una lang na naman. Hinahayaan ko na lang. Until dumating birthday niya and I did some surprising for him. Bought him a Jollibee and a cake to let him celebrate before he ends his day kasi that time exhausted siya at may away sila ng fam niya. That's where I felt the old Jom again. The kind of sweetness and love which I've fallen for back to day one. Consistent video calls na rin and i love you's.

Out of nowhere bigla kong nakalkal spam ko at nakitang may nag-chat sa'kin ng unknown. He sent me a screenshot of Jom commented on Tine's shared post with "Beb 🥺" so sinend ko kay Jom and my anxiety creeps back in. Matagal na daw 'yon at binura na niya. Blinock daw siya ni Tine dahil 'nung nakaraang araw e 'di na daw siya kinakausap ni Jom. Ang sama na naman ng loob ko dahil up to this point talaga e nagkakausap sila. 'Di talaga nila maiwasan. The fact that Tine told me na wala siyang feelings kay Jom and he don't matter dahil nga babaero siya and then eto ang makikita ko? Patuloy pa rin niyang kinakausap si Jom? Bullshit na babae. Alam mo 'yun? Kapwa mo na babae pero 'di marunong makiramdam. 'Di marunong umiwas for the sake of other women's feelings. Idk the whole story whether si Jom man ang panay chat or whatsoever. Pero the thing is, kung alam mong kinukulit ka ng isang taong committed na, whether they have broken up or hindi pa, learn to distance yourself and let them address their own issue. 'Wag ka na makisawsaw. Gusto ko ngang kausapin si Tine e pero kasi dapat hindi ako ang gumagawa ng way to end whatever shits they have. Dapat si Jom ang mag-initiate at siya 'tong nag-cheat in the first place. 'Di dapat ako ang gumagawa ng paraan para ayusin lahat kasi wala naman talaga akong kasalanan.

So ayun. Bumalik na naman sama ng loob ko kay Jom. But for some reasons, medyo nag-oopen na siya sa'kin unlike noon na as in ni isa walang explanation. Nakiusap na naman ako na kung pupwede tama na 'yung pagtawag sa isa't isa ng "Beb" at masakit pa rin para sa'kin. Lalo't sinabi ni Jom na inaayos na daw niya 'yung amin at hindi na daw niya kinakausap si Tine. 'Di ko alam kung paniniwalaan ko ba siya na magagawa niya 'yun, na tigilan na si Tine at 'di na tawaging "beb". The last time kasi na nakiusap ako e wala din lang nangyari. Hanggang salita lang si Jom at wala sa gawa kaya eto na naman ako full of doubt.

Gusto ko man ishare 'to kina Lyka, Chins, Gelli at Kevin pero mukhang fed up na sila sa'kin kasi nadadalas ang pangungulit ko sakanila. They're doing fine tas here I come again, disturbing their peace with my usual shits with Jom and I kaya dito na lang ako ng vent out. Kaso nga lang kasi pag dito e wala akong matatanggap na advice. But then I don't need it. Alam ko naman sa sarili ko kung anong dapat gawin. It's just that, my heart refuses it. My heart keeps fighting kahit 'yung utak at katawan ko e sukung suko na. 'Di na rin ako masyadong nagkekwento kay Marjo at ayun na nga rin, nakakahiya naman mangistorbo sa peaceful nilang mundo.

Idk, right now? Siguro go with the flow na lang ulit na naman ako. Focus on thyself and the business. Naisip ko nga minsan na what if subukan ko ring 'wag magparamdam for days? Be off social media? Travel a lot on my own? Or just be independent and do what makes me happy naman? And to not give a fuck with anyone? In that way ma-heal ko naman sarili ko sa mga kabullshitang natatanggap ko. Sabi pa nga nila maglandi ako. Hell no! 'Di 'yun solusyon. Maybe what's happening right now is something to do with loving myself more and giving so much value rather than focusing on others. It's teaching me na there's more to life than love. And wanting to love myself even more.

[elacular-kink]

Poly-Techhic -4 part 2: Susanna's side

Here is the opposite to the above story, which is told from the point of view of a hiccuping and panicking Susanna.

Oh, also, for reasons of silliness, I failed to actually change the color of the text on the previous part, sorry. If you wanna skip most of the rehashed buildup, just skip to "Nah, I'm good. I'll just take water."

(Dunno if this is needed, but) Character Sheet

TW: Anxiety, teasing (Imagined), Self-loathing, Embarrassment, painful hiccups

TW: Hiccups, Kink exhibitionism, Embarrassment

Well. Here I was in a bathroom. Yet again. And there was a beautiful woman outside of it waiting for me, yet again. The good news was that she wasn't leaning against the door like the last two were. The bad news was that that probably didn't mean that she wasn't worried about me.

And the really bad news was that I was the one with the fucking hiccups this time.

Stupid fucking unpronounceable French restaurant. What the fuck kind of restaurant serves people seltzer when they ask for water? And what kind of idiot was I to have not fucking noticed that it was carbonated even when I was swirling it around in the stupid fucking wineglass they put it in. AND WHY THE FUCK WEREN'T THESE HICCUPS STOPPING?! I was managing to keep them all silent, and nobody else was in the bathroom, thank Christ. I kept trying to hold my breath. It was just making shit worse, but fuck, I knew that it worked sometimes. Maybe if I could just go a little longer...

...I remembered reading when I was a kid that if you had seven hiccups you were probably going to have at least seventy more. That probably wasn't true, but I'd definitely had more than seven now. Way more.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, how long had I been in this fucking bathroom? How much brain damage would I get if I managed to hold my breath until I passed out? Why were the fucking faucets at a weird-ass angle and using those push-to-water buttons so I couldn't even catch any in my hands to drink?

And why why why why why was this turning me on so fucking much?

My phone started ringing and I nearly jumped out of my skin. When I took it out, I hung up the call without even thinking. A second later it rang again and I saw that it was Maya. Fuck, she wasn't gonna let it go. Didn't she know I was busy ruining a date right now? Whatever the fuck she wanted, I didn't have a choice but to listen to her, so I hit the green button and pulled her up to my ear.

"SUSANNA YOU FUCKIN' IDIOT!" I yanked her back away from my ear. "That cure your hiccups?" No, and it might have made them worse, but even if I was going to open my mouth to say that, she kept going without a breath. "Don't answer that, I don't care. I love you, but Kiki's having a fucking conniption thinking she did something wrong, so if you don't get your ass back out there I'll take your fuckin'—" I hung up on her. Fuck, she was right. Of course she was right. Poor fucking Kiran.

Fine. Fine. Apparently, I could be brave or something. I could go back out there with

With the hiccups

Where everyone could see me

Where beautiful fucking goddess Kiran could see me

And where all those rich weirdos and tuxedo pricks could see me.

Fuck.

I kept my mouth and throat shut as tight as I could and rushed back to the table. Kiran looked worried. Of course she did. Fucking angel. "S---sorry Kiran. *mmk!*" Christ, they were so fucking fast.

"It's...fine?" I could feel her eyes burning into me. "Are you...are you alright?"

She didn't know. Of course she didn't. Normal people didn't know what the fuck these movements meant, normal people didn't care. Fuck, I'd have to explain myself. I nodded as best I could before a fucking hiccup interrupted me, and I used that half-second to try and be ready to say the bullshit I was about to have to say. "Got th---the h-hic---cups. Sor---ry."

After a second, just barely in my peripheral vision, I saw her eyes widen with recognition. "Oh! Oh, okay. N-nothing you need to be sorry for, Susanna." How in the world was this woman so sweet and cute when I was hiccuping like a drunk fucking cartoon character (an image that should not have turned me on even more, but...) in the middle of this fancy-ass restaurant? I couldn't possibly be keeping them quiet enough. "D-do you want me to try and get you some regular water?" Her to get it? Well, she was the one who took the initiative to talk to the tuxedo prick before. This was her social territory way more than it was mine. I looked up at her and saw just how goddamn caring she looked and...fuck. I nodded. "Alright...alright."

Kiran spent a moment looking around. Eventually, she saw and started walking toward tuxedo douche, so I was left on my own. Hiccuping. Rocking back and forth on this hard-ass chair. At least I wasn't wearing jeans. The stiff inseam would have made this a million times worse, and it was already bad enough. I could barely look up. It felt like every fucking eye in the restaurant was staring at me, and I could just imagine what they were thinking.

"What is that woman doing?" "Is she drunk? Did they pour vodka into that glass?" "How humiliating for her." "Hiccuping in a place like this? You'd think a restaurant this French would have a classier clientele." "Can you see how she keeps rocking back and forth?" "I bet she's getting off on it, pervert."

I knew that one was unrealistic. My brain didn't stop, though.

"I bet she's doing everything she can not to look at how her belly keeps popping out." "And she doesn't even have her hoodie to protect her. Poor thing." "Hiccupy little Susanna, right there and ripe for the teasing. And in front of Kiran too." "How embarrassing."

Okay, they definitely weren't thinking that.

"'Hic! Hic! Hiccup!'" "Awww, Susie's got the hiccups~" "She tries so hard to look cool, but she's so cute and squeaky!" "Don't you just want to fuck them out of her?"

AND ABSOLUTELY NOBODY WAS THINKING THAT BUT ME!

...but that didn't mean I could stop repeating it in my head.

My hiccups were making my chest ache. That was at least a tiny bit of a damper on my horniness. Not nearly enough of one though. Kiran came back in her gorgeous pink dress that hugged her curves and that didn't fucking help as I imagined how her soft belly would spasm out into it and stretch the fabric. I forced myself to think of her like a fucking person and noticed how tired she looked as she slumped into her chair. When I put my hand on top of hers, she smiled at me; I recognized that autistic deliberate-but-not-quite-forced smile from the rare times Olivia would do it. "I'm alright, Susanna. Hopefully, we'll get you some water soon."

Oh, thank fucking Christ. I realized I'd been half holding my breath (which was probably continuing to not help) and sighed it out. "Th---thanks." A split-second after I'd finished talking, a vacuum formed inside of me as my stupid fucking diaphragm spasmed, and the lack of air went thud in my chest and against my closed throat. Fuck, that hurt. I rubbed my chest and hoped that wouldn't keep happening.

For a while, neither of us said anything. Poor Kiran. What a terrible fucking date. Why couldn't I just be normal and...actually, what the fuck would a normal person do in this situation? I had no idea what normal people did in any situation involving hiccups. Would they joke about it? (hot) Would they be embarrassed? (hot) Would they ignore it? (also hot. God dammit, brain.)

"Well, I...suppose that you'll need some of Olivia's hair now." What? I looked up at Kiran and saw her awkwardly shifting in her seat. Was this a pun or something? Hair of the dog or...no, I didn't get it. "F-for your voodoo doll." Wait, she remembered that joke? "It stopped working. It's not transferring your hiccups right now." 

Fuck, how was this girl so fucking cute. I couldn't help myself. I laughed. And out of the corner of my eye, I could see that it made her smile. Fucking sweetheart. And then my body ruined everything with a really fucking audible "*HNK!*—nnf!" that threw me into the back of the chair and made my throat hurt like a bitch and probably had every fucking person in the restaurant staring at us. Fuck, I hoped Kiran didn't notice if they were. She'd be horrified.

"Susanna, are you in pain?" Well shit, her noticing this part might have been even worse. But what was I gonna do, lie to her about it? No. I had to fucking nod like I needed her to take care of me. Like that was her job or something.

...like I really really wanted her to take care of me.

Idiot.

"Is holding your hiccups back causing that? Would letting them out help?" Fuck, that would be the next obvious question, wouldn't it? There was no good answer, but I still had to think of a bad one, and it'd probably take more words than I was willing to say out loud. So I motioned for her to come over and took out my phone. This way it wouldn't just seem like I was being an asshole and texting on our date instead of answering her.

Before I could figure out what the fuck I was supposed to type, a pair of big, warm, soft hands landed on my shoulders and held me still for my next hiccup, keeping my back from hitting the back of the chair. I looked behind me, and yeah, it was Kiran and not some other weirdo. If it was some other weirdo, I'd have either tried to break the wineglass into a shiv or just dropped dead on the spot. I might have still looked a little too much like I was considering the shiv option because Kiran started stuttering and her grip loosened. "I—um, sorry, is this okay? You're being shaken so hard, I just...thought this could help."

If reincarnation was a thing, past me must have spent their life taking care of orphans and puppies. I laughed again, and that almost wasn't terrifying. I may not have been able to figure out what a rational human being would say in this situation, but I could at least let her know she was wonderful. "S---sweet." And focusing on her sweetness instead of my stupid hiccups finally let me figure out what to type before holding it up for her to see.

Susie Q(eer): That'd help, yeah, but I don't think the people around here would appreciate it. Especially not tuxedo douche.

"I-I don't care about that!" Okay, that was...not the response I expected. I didn't quite know what I did expect, but it wasn't that. Kiran looked surprised too, her own face going a little red, and when she spoke next, she did it much more softly. "Certainly not more than I care about your well-being."

Angel. Absolute fucking angel. I rested my hand on one of hers to make sure she stayed put while I nuzzled into her arm. I knew that body language was tough, but I hoped that that communicated just how much I loved her.

...how much I...shit, that didn't take long. Fuck.

"Erm, your still water, ma'ams." Thank Christ that that didn't take long either. I grabbed the actual fucking water glass that wasn't a fucking wineglass and drank as much as I could. But no, that'd be too fucking simple and convenient, wouldn't it? Because I just kept hiccuping anyway. "Also, um, other patrons have requested that you please take your seat, ma'am." Yeah. Fuck, that made sense. At least this guy was nicer about it than tuxedo douche would have been. 

"I—" Kiran made an uncertain little noise. I patted her arm and gestured towards her seat. I'd be okay. I could deal with it. She deserved to have a good night. "...no, I don't believe so."

Wait, what?

When I looked at Kiran, she took one of my hands in hers and gently helped me to my feet. Her other hand landed on my back and it was so fucking big and soft and warm...fuck, just touching her always felt amazing. "This restaurant isn't what I was hoping it would be. I'm sorry, Susanna. Please let me take you somewhere better suited to the two of us." Fuck, she was having us leave?

...actually, yeah, that was probably best for everyone. Fuck. Date officially ruined. Great job Susanna. I barely paid any attention while Kiran paid whatever ridiculous amount of money they charged for fucking water here. "Don't forget your companion's...jacket." Oh fuck you, tuxedo douche.

"Of course." I stared up at Kiran and saw her glaring at him. She made that "of course" sound like a fucking knife. "Thank you, sir," she said with a capital F. Before I could figure out how to even react to that, Kiran was helping me into my hoodie and keeping an arm around my shoulders. Fuck, she was keeping an arm around my shoulders. Putting her weight on me. Holding me still. Feeling my hiccups. Christ, I just had to be blushing. But I couldn't help myself. I was only fucking human. I leaned into her. And she was so fucking warm that I barely even felt the cold we went back into.

It occurred to me that I probably shouldn't have been enjoying the night I just ruined quite so much. "I'm s---sorry, Ki–*EEK!*–Nnuuh!" Apparently, my throat and chest recognized that we weren't in that French restaurant anymore, because I wasn't able to stop that squeaky noise from coming out of me. And Kiran was laughing at me. Kiran was laughing at my hiccups. Fuck, that was way too fucking hot. I couldn't bear to see her smiling. I couldn't bear to have her look at my face. If she did, she might see that I was smiling too.

"N-no, I'm sorry!" Fuck, I loved hearing her laugh. Even if I wasn't a pervert, I would love hearing her adorable little laugh. "I'm...sorry for laughing, for one. You're just..." Oh Christ, what was she going to say? "...You're just really cute."

She thought I was cute. She thought that my hiccups were cute. My face was on complete fucking fire. I tried to hide myself in her side like a fucking idiot (which at least muffled my next hiccup) and she laughed more because of course she did. It was so fucking embarrassing. And fuck, I was so turned on.

"But beyond that, I'm...I'm sorry about that restaurant." I looked back up at her and saw her frowning. She was only avoiding eye contact in the normal way she did, but she still looked guilty and worried. "I wanted to take you somewhere that...that you might not have been to a place like yet. A-and I know that I'm very privileged with how much access to money I have, so that's something that I can provide you if we go on a date together and—"

"'Prov---provide me'?" I started talking before I even realized I'd done it. "You–*HOOP!*–Nn!" Fuck, completely out loud! That was so fucking loud, Jesus Christ! I covered my stupid red face again and practically screamed. Before I could, though, I felt her soft arms wrap around me and she pulled me back into her belly and chest. Oh fuck. Fuck, this wasn't fucking happening. I hiccuped and felt her softness all around me like I could just sink into her like a cloud. Fuck, I had to make some kind of noise that wasn't just hiccups or barely muffled sex whines. I forced myself to take my hands off my face and keep talking like a human being, even if I had her warmth and weight and beauty surrounding me on all sides. "...*MMK!* You don't ha---have to provide---nnnghf. *MMK* Provide me anyth–*UK!* th-thiiiing. Fuck." At least only one of them had been completely out loud. Partial success.

"But I want to." Of course she did. I had no idea what anyone could even say to that. Didn't she know she already provided everyone she met with a fucking gorgeous genius with the kindest heart in the universe? She didn't need money to do that.

I realized we'd walked to some nearby park blocks. I'd halfway done it on purpose. This place wasn't crowded, so maybe...maybe it would be okay for me to hiccup out loud? If Kiran was okay with it. She pulled away from me and I missed her warmth so much, but that made sense. We had a bench to sit on, and it wasn't like she was about to ask me to—

"Susanna? Would you like to..." Her face was darker than usual as she patted her gorgeous, brown, stretchmarked thighs.

Well, shit. When in Rome do as the Romans do; when in heaven listen to the fucking angels. "S---sure, but–*HNK!* d-don't let m---me hurt you."

"I won't." She'd better not, I thought as if I had the power to do anything but walk over and sit on top of her like I was hypnotized. Which...fuck, I basically was. I tried to sit towards her knees so that I wouldn't jolt back into her, but she didn't let me. Instead, she pulled me all the way against her and I swear my soul left my body right then. "...but just to be sa–OOF!" My soul rubber-banded back into my body when I heard the noise of discomfort she made when I hiccuped into her. Fuck, yeah, that made sense. She kept talking before I could ask if she was okay. "S-safe, you should stop holding your hiccups in." Oh yeah. That was kind of what I came here to do, wasn't it? And it'd definitely make it so I would be less rough with her.

...and she said she thought they were cute.

Fuck. I let my throat open and started breathing like a person again. Or at least like a person who just got extracted from the ocean and was trying to remember how lungs work. Every hiccup was so high pitched and loud and squeaky and my face had to be fucking radioactive right now, especially since she'd laid one of her arms over my stomach and fuck, it was heavy and pulling me into her and pressing into my tummy and bouncing with it every time I hiccuped and I liked her so much and I was so fucking turned on and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"There you go, Susanna." Her voice was so soft and sweet right by my ear...albeit through my hood. I wished I hadn't pulled it back up. "Good—" She stopped weirdly. Then she pressed her face into the back of my hood. She couldn't possibly be about to say what I thought she was. "Good..." No, she couldn't. "...good girl."

Fuck, that wasn't fucking fair. I couldn't help laughing. It was so fucking embarrassing and hot and sweet and I was so fucking hers and she didn't have a clue what she was doing to me.

God.

She at least deserved to know a little of it, though. Once I'd stopped giggling, I huffed, hoping that breathing calmly would keep my hiccups a little calmer too. ""S'just emb–*UCK* emb-barrassing. *HNK-lk*." It was really hard to talk and not try to block them at the same time.

I felt Kiran sigh behind me. "I can see why. I would be mortified." Yeah, she would be. Better me than her in that French place, I guess. A few seconds later, her grip tightened around me. "N-not that I'm saying you should be! Y-you don't need to be embarrassed, Susanna, I just—" She pressed my face into my hood again, and I stifled more laughter. How was she so cute? "I just understand why you would be. B-but you don't need to be. It's just the hiccups." Okay, on second thought, thank god my hood was up. Because I had no idea what color my face just turned in response to hearing her beautiful voice say that word. "And you shouldn't have to hold them back any more than Olivia does."

...hm. Kiran hadn't known her as long as I had, so she wouldn't know. But Olivia would definitely be annoyed if she had that misunderstanding in front of her. I decided it'd be better to clear that up now, even if I had to hiccup through it. Fuck it, I was embarrassed and turned on and a fucking mess already, how much worse could it get? "Oliv---via has to h–*OLK*–g-guh. Hold them ba–*UCK* all the time. *HMK!* I'm...*hmp*." A weird thought occurred to me as I considered how much more comfortable Olivia was when she was able to hiccup out loud, and how I'd never asked her to do anything else around me.

My hood felt stifling. I didn't like having such dense fabric between the two of us. Fuck it, she could see me blush. It'd be okay. I pulled my hood down and rested my head on her chest, and I heard her heart speeding away inside of her. Cute. "I'm lucky, in a way. *HMK-mmp* To be someo–*UK* someone she doesn–*nnt* have to hide ar–*HUP* around." ...lucky. Yeah. I was kind of lucky, wasn't I? To be drawn to someone as amazing as her. Our relationship was lucky in about a billion other ways too, but...that was one of them. That I liked hiccups, and that let this wonderful person be herself and be comfortable around me. "*hmk* Never really tho–*UCK* thought about it like tha–*hup* that before."

"About what?"

Whoops. Guess there were more reasons than just my hiccups to not introspect out loud. "Ah...ah–*HUP*–p-puh..." Every non-word that came out of me made me blush more, whether it was a hiccup or not. "It's kind–*AUK* kinda hard to expl–*HUCK* explain."

"I suppose most things would be with a case of the hiccups like that." Fuck, just the word. Just Kiran saying the word. She didn't know what the fuck she was doing to me.

...but maybe she should. "Yeah. *hmp*. Not having the–*eek-up* these would definitely make it easier. *hmk*. Do you..." Fuck, was this okay? Was it okay to be greedy? I looked up at her and saw a smile that I knew Kiran didn't know was on her face. "...do you thi–*ic*–ink we could stay like thi–*ic-olp*–this until they're gone? *hmk-mmp*. I'll tell you af---after that."

"That sounds good to me. Thank you, Susanna."

Thank me? Bullshit, what the fuck was she talking about? "No. *hmk.* Thank you, Kiran." I saw her smile get bigger, and she pulled me a little tighter into herself. I was terrified of what was coming and hoped that my hiccups never actually stopped.

...but I was a little bit excited and hoped that they would stop soon too.

I wanted to tell her. And I was going to tonight. Just as soon as my cute, embarrassing, hot, date-wrecking, loud, uncomfortable, wonderful hiccups were gone.

Poly-techhic -4: A Little Lunch and Seltzer AU

So, when I wrote Chapter 4.5, I saw how Olivia teased Susanna and thought "Hey, good idea, character that I write! Let's write that!" So, in this alternate universe version of chapter 4, Susanna is the one who gets the hiccups during their date instead of Kiran. I've also written it twice, once from Kiran's perspective and once from Susanna's. I'll see if I can sorta get both on one post via reblog, but if not I'll double up like I did with the shower story.

The Kiran chapter's first few paragraphs are retreads of part of Chapter 4 to set the scene, so I'll put those in a different color if anyone wants to skip to the new stuff.

Last ramble: This is the last bit of Poly-Techhic I've written so far. That doesn't necessarily mean there won't be more, and it certainly doesn't mean there won't be more hiccup stuff in the future, but my muse is on its contractual lunch break, so I can't say when.

Character Sheet

TW: Anxiety, Painful hiccups, menstruation (mentioned) Kinks: Hiccups, Embarrassment

Susanna and I had just arrived for our date at the French restaurant whose name neither of us could pronounce. The man in the tuxedo looked past me at Susanna as she entered. "We don't wear hoods in this establishment, sir."

"M-ma'am!" I corrected him, blushing.

"It's cool, Kiran," Susanna pulled her hood down and I saw that, rather than laying flat or being mussed like it usually was, her hair looked like it had been styled with gel or spray, a perfect gently punkish messy spikiness to it. As Susanna unzipped her hoodie, I saw that she was wearing a white button-up shirt underneath, the arms cuffed past her elbows in an imitation of short sleeves, and the bottom tucked into her khakis and strapped down with a leather belt. Oh god, she looked so dapper. How was I supposed to cope? "I don't mind what people call me, and I figu—uh..." She'd started tying her hoodie around her waist when the maître d' took it from her and hung it up on a coat rack instead alongside mostly suit jackets. "Uh...yeah. Okay. That works."

The tuxedoed man sniffed and turned. "This way, ma'am and ma'am." He showed us to a small table and placed a set of black leather-bound menus in front of us. "I'll need to see ID if you intend to drink."

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just take water."

"Hmph." He took a note.

The idea of asking for soda in an establishment like this made my stomach ache. I was glad that I had at least managed to eat a little lunch; the idea of that ache making any noise made me feel even more ill. "I-I'll take water as well, please!" The maître d' made a noise I didn't know how to interpret and walked away. Susanna rolled her eyes as he left, and that helped me calm down a little.

For a while, the two of us chatted about the restaurant's (stuffy) atmosphere and its (expensive) appetizers, but it wasn't long before we were interrupted by someone who was, thankfully, not the maître d', and who placed a wine glass of water in front of each of us. "Uh, thanks man," Susanna said. He nodded without saying anything and walked off quickly. "Is this...classy?" She picked up her glass and tilted it around.

"I...suppose? I'll be honest, rules of etiquette were never something I was able to keep track of very well."

"Pff. My god, poor etiquette? You bad girl, you." I could feel myself blushing under her smile. "Well, whether it's classy or not, it'd be weird not to clink these." She held her glass out and I picked up my own and tapped it against hers before I took a sip. I was a bit surprised to realize that it was seltzer, but I supposed that would explain why even the water on the menu had a price.

When I looked back at Susanna, she was swirling the water in her glass and sniffing at it. "Ahh, essence of tap. Hydrogen and...notes of oxygen I presume?"

I stifled a small giggle as she took a sip. "Why yes, with a surprising hint of carbon di—" Before I could finish speaking, Susanna choked and started coughing, putting the glass down as quickly as she could. "—o-oxide? Susanna, are you okay?"

"Yeah—k-kuh, yeah Kiran, I'm fi–*eek!*" A tiny, high-pitched noise forced itself out of her and her eyes went wide. Her face was unbelievably red and she slapped both hands over her mouth. After a split second, she sucked in a breath of air and held it, shutting her eyes tight.

"Susanna?" She opened her eyes and nodded at me, then rocked back silently and shut them again, another tiny noise audible in her throat. She held up one finger and I nodded back, even though she couldn't see me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her though. Every few seconds she kept jolting, and it seemed like they were getting faster and harder. She held her breath for a worryingly long time. I half wished I'd taken out a stopwatch, because it had to be over a minute, probably over two.

Eventually, she let out her breath all in one massive huff, though she kept both hands over her mouth, just barely containing a high-pitched little "*mmp!* S-sorry." Without her bangs or her hoodie on, her cute, flushed face was a little hard to ignore. I kept accidentally meeting her eyes, and they looked almost...scared. "Be right b---back." Without elaborating, she got up and rushed off deeper into the building.

"...okay," I said, long after she had gone. I was barely able to wait five minutes before I felt compelled to pull out my phone. Texting on dates was horribly rude as far as I was aware, but if she wasn't at the table, it seemed like it would be okay? And honestly, I was worried.

Queen of Illusion: YOU BETTER TELL ME HOW THIS SHIT WENT WHEN YOU GET BACK PLEASE TELL ME YOU FUCKIN KISSED HER AND THEN KISS ME (IF YOU WANNA)

Kiran (Kiki): Maya?

Queen of Illusion: WTF are you doing texting me And yeah

Kiran (Kiki): I'm sorry! I didn't know what else to do!

Queen of Illusion: Hold up What stupid shit is Susie doing?

Kiran (Kiki): I don't know! She disappeared deeper into the building!

Queen of Illusion: wait Where the bathrooms are?

Kiran (Kiki): I don't know, maybe?

Queen of Illusion: That mother fucker Gimme 2 seconds ill fix this shit.

Kiran (Kiki): Is she okay? Does she need a pad or a tampon? I carry those.

Queen of Illusion: oh shit thats super helpful tell the whole team that But yea shes fine Just really fuckin stupid I told her to get her ass back to the table or Id throw her switch in a blender And she knows im crazy enough to do it

Maya was still typing, but when I looked up, I saw Susanna coming back over. She looked very small, shoulders pulled in and her head bowed down, and she speed walked over to our table and sat down in her chair with a hyperefficient stiffness. Also stiff was the way she kept jolting backward, her shoulders jumping, her head snapping back, and her whole body rocking. "S---sorry Kiran. *mmk!*"

"It's...fine?" I wasn't sure quite what she was apologizing for. Her face was still unbelievably red. "Are you...are you alright?"

She nodded before her head was abruptly jerked back again. "Got th---the h-hic---cups. Sor---ry."

"...oh!" Oh, that made sense. Susanna must have been sensitive to carbonation like Maya was. Did she not know that about herself? I'd never seen her drink or order soda, so why didn't she say as much when we talked about it?

...actually, considering that Maya was the one who had brought up hiccup triggers, I could see why she would want to keep that to herself right then. 

"Oh, okay. N-nothing you need to be sorry for, Susanna. D-do you want me to try and get you some regular water?" She looked up at me and nodded slightly. "Alright...alright." I looked around for a waiter who didn't look busy. The restaurant wasn't crowded, and the maître d' had left his post to wander among the tables doing...honestly, it wasn't clear to me at all what he was doing besides occasionally staring at us in an intimidating manner. But I couldn't see any other employees who weren't occupied, and Susanna looked so uncomfortable and was jolting so hard. So I steeled myself as best I could, straightened up, rolled my shoulders back, and then walked over to the man in the tuxedo. "Excuse me, sir." He sniffed at me. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear, but I forced my back to stay straight. "My—" Wait, shit, what was I supposed to call her? Fuck fuck fuck—

No! No panicking right now. She needs you.

"My date would like some still water, and I'd prefer to get it sooner rather than later."

He stared at me. I was glad I'd straightened up. It gave me an inch or two on him, and he clearly didn't like that. "...off-menu requests cost extra."

Susanna better not have heard that. "That's fine. And I'll tip for a prompt delivery." He sniffed, then walked back towards the kitchen, and I walked back over to our table and sat back down. As soon as I was in the chair, I slumped again, and I felt Susanna's hand land on mine. I smiled at her, or at least tried to. "I'm alright, Susanna. Hopefully, we'll get you some water soon."

She exhaled softly and nodded. "Th---thanks." There was an audible thump in her chest and she rubbed her sternum, looking pained. Her little body was being so violently rocked...I really did wonder if she was going to hurt herself. And her face still looked so red and feverish.

The not-exactly-silence that fell between us felt horribly awkward. "Well, I...suppose that you'll need some of Olivia's hair now." She stared at me, and at least her looking confused was better than her looking scared and in pain. "F-for your voodoo doll. It stopped working. It's not transferring your hiccups right now." After a moment, she smiled. Susanna smiled and she shook with quiet, soft laughter and it made me feel like I was glowing.

Then she "*HNK!*—nnf!" jerked back harder and shut her eyes tight, rubbing her throat.

"Susanna, are you in pain?" She looked at me and shrunk in on herself before she nodded. "Is holding your hiccups back causing that? Would letting them out help?" She cringed, then motioned for me to come over. I joined her on her side of the table and saw that her spasms were throwing her hard into the uncomfortable-looking back of her chair. I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I put both of my hands on her shoulders and gripped them. With her next hiccup, I just barely managed to keep her from hitting the back of the chair again. God, she was so strong. Her whole body was so unbelievably strong. And she was looking back and up at me. "I—um, sorry, is this okay?" She nodded again, and my heart rate slowed at least a little. "You're being shaken so hard, I just...thought this could help."

She turned away and shook with almost silent laughs again. "S---sweet." Before I could stammer out a request to elaborate on that, she took out her phone and started typing on it, holding it awkwardly high so I could easily read from behind her.

Susie Q(eer): That'd help, yeah, but I don't think the people around here would appreciate it. Especially not tuxedo douche.

"I-I don't care about that!" That came out of me louder than I meant it to, but I ignored my blush, just lowering my voice as best I could. "Certainly not more than I care about your well-being." After a moment, she put a hand on one of mine and gently nuzzled into one of my arms. I may not have trusted my ability to comprehend body language, but I felt safe assuming that whatever this was was very affectionate. My heart clearly felt safe assuming that, considering how it was bursting and melting all at once.

"Erm, your still water, ma'ams." Our waiter came over and placed a glass of water in front of Susanna, who quickly grabbed it and took a large swig. Unfortunately, barely a half-second later, she jerked back into my hands again. "Also," the waiter was cringing. "Um, other patrons have requested that you please take your seat, ma'am."

"I—" I wasn't sure what to do, but before I could worry too much about it, Susanna gently patted my arm and gestured for me to go back to my seat. She jerked back into me again before I could, though. Her hiccups were so strong..."No, I don't believe so." The waiter blinked at me, and Susanna was looking up, shocked. I gently pulled her to her feet, keeping a hand on her back. "This restaurant isn't what I was hoping it would be. I'm sorry, Susanna. Please let me take you somewhere better suited to the two of us."

I walked over to the maître d' and paid with one of my least important credit cards. This place didn't deserve the dignity of giving me gold points. "Don't forget your companion's...jacket."

"Of course. Thank you, sir." I put as much venom in my voice as I could, then took Susanna's hoodie and helped put it on her before wrapping an arm around her shoulders again. There wasn't really a need to do that, but she wasn't complaining. She even leaned further into me once we were outside again.

Despite those actions, I heard Susanna sigh. "I'm s---sorry, Ki–*EEK!*–Nnuuh!" She covered her face with both hands, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"N-no, I'm sorry!" I shook away my giggles as best I could before sighing. "I'm...sorry for laughing, for one. You're just..." I could feel my face warming. "...You're just really cute."

"Mnnf. *HMK!*" She leaned into me more, and my nerves kept pulling giggles out of me.

"But beyond that, I'm...I'm sorry about that restaurant. I wanted to take you somewhere that...that you might not have been to a place like yet. A-and I know that I'm very privileged with how much access to money I have, so that's something that I can provide you if we go on a date together and—"

"'Prov---provide me'?" Susanna squinted up at me. "You–*HOOP!*–Nn!" She covered her face again and I couldn't help it. I just pulled her into my arms and against me. She was so cute. Her back jolted into me, and for once it felt really nice to have such a soft belly for her to hiccup into instead of something hard that could hurt her. She made more tiny noises, then pulled her face out of her sleeve-covered hands. "...*MMK!* You don't ha---have to provide---nnnghf. *MMK* Provide me anyth–*UK!* th-thiiiing. Fuck."

"But I want to." I realized that we had idly walked to a small park block and looked at the nearest bench. It looked uncomfortable, especially the back, and I sat down on it and confirmed that fact. I couldn't let Susanna sit and hiccup back into that. But what other option— "...Susanna? Would you like to..." I uncertainly patted my lap.

The light was too dim to be sure, but I thought her face went even redder. Even so, she nodded. "S---sure, but–*HNK!* d-don't let m---me hurt you."

"I won't." I hoped I'd be able to keep that promise if need be, but more than that, I really really really hoped I wouldn't have to. She slowly, gently eased onto my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her back against me. She was so small in my grasp. "...but just to be sa–OOF!" I was shocked by the force one of her spasms pushed back with. "S-safe, you should stop holding your hiccups in." After a long moment and a few rough jolts, she nodded. I could hear and feel her start to breathe more deeply, seeming to have to make an active effort not to try and mute herself. High-pitched *HEEK*s and *HNK*s and *HK-llp*s squeaked out of her, but her motions were far gentler, more bounces than jerks. One of my arms was resting on her stomach while the other had ended up across her thighs (which I really hoped she didn't notice or object to) and it was interesting just how much I felt her move, and how much more fluid even her herky-jerky hiccup motions were now that she wasn't trapping everything inside of her chest. "Yeah. There you go. Good—" My face practically lit on fire as I realized what I was about to say, and I buried it in the back of her hood. But I couldn't not finish my sentence. "Good...good girl."

After a split second, I felt her laughing against me. Her chuckles came tangled up with hiccups, but I didn't mind, and it seemed like, at least to an extent, she didn't either. Once her laughter calmed, she sighed. "S'just emb–*UCK* emb-barrassing. *HNK-lk*."

I sighed back. "I can see why. I'd be mortified." It took me too many seconds to realize what I'd just said. "N-not that I'm saying you should be! Y-you don't need to be embarrassed, Susanna, I just—" I hid my face in the back of her hood again, glad that the hiccups mostly moved her chest and torso rather than snapping her head back. "I just understand why you would be. B-but you don't need to be. It's just the hiccups. And you shouldn't have to hold them back any more than Olivia does."

Susanna made a noise I didn't know how to interpret. "Oliv---via has to h–*OLK*–g-guh. Hold them ba–*UCK* all the time. *HMK!* I'm...*hmp*." She leaned forward and pulled down her hood, resting her head against my chest afterward, and I wondered if she could feel exactly what that was doing to my heart. "I'm lucky, in a way. *HMK-mmp* To be someo–*UK* someone she doesn–*nnt* have to hide ar–*HUP* around." She hummed softly, and I could see her purse her lips. "*hmk* Never really tho–*UCK* thought about it like tha–*hup* that before."

"About what?"

Even under the dim light, I could see how red her cheeks had gone. "Ah...ah–*HUP*–p-puh...It's kind–*AUK* kinda hard to expl–*HUCK* explain."

"I suppose most things would be with a case of the hiccups like that."

Her face...her face was still so flushed. "Yeah. *hmp*. Not having the–*eek-up* these would definitely make it easier. *hmk*. Do you..." She shook in my arms with a few nearly silent hiccups. "...do you thi–*ic*–ink we could stay like thi–*ic-olp*–this until they're gone? *hmk-mmp*. I'll tell you af---after that."

I simultaneously hoped that she stopped hiccuping in the next few seconds and that this case never went away. But either way, I loved getting to have her body against mine, no matter how it was moving. "That sounds good to me. Thank you, Susanna.""No. *hmk.* Thank you, Kiran," she said. After that, we just sat in the park together while she hiccuped, and I thought that made for a far better date than the restaurant ever could have.

[animeomegas]

Congratulations!

Oh and also...with Asra, that lovely little thing UGH!, I wanted some angst...like their alpha finds out that they were dead and Asra was not there for them...actually he had left them alone to travel, if it was me I would be angry, he was my their alphas bestfriend before their relationship builds and he had left them alone...I just need to yell at someone, sorry but these weeks have been really stressful for me and I need to take it out! Also *whispers* you are the best!

@bluetooththereptile : Hmmm "You left me behind, why should I trust you?"

Thank you!! So, the reader is angry at Asra hiding stuff and leaving them? I can do that!

"You're leaving again."

It wasn't a question, you knew the drill at this point. You were sitting in the middle of the night in the corner of yours and Asra's living space. You'd been feeling a sense of dread all week, and tonight, you couldn't sleep.

You were glad. Because you'd caught Asra tiptoeing downstairs and writing a note, presumably explaining his soon-to-be absence, against the kitchen counter.

Asra jumped at your voice, obviously having missed your presence in the darkness.

"You're here! I-"

"Where are you going?" you cut him off, wanting to skip the whole sing and dance and get straight to the information. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the frustration, but either way, you weren't in the mood for his bullshit.

Asra hesitated at you tone, but quickly covered his expression and smiled at you. Yo loved his smile, but it wouldn't work on you today.

"I won't be gone long-"

"That isn't what I asked."

Asra stopped talking at your second interruption. You could see that he was beginning to understand the situation he was in. You weren't playing around. Distantly you could smell his scent taking on a nervous tinge. Good. He deserved to feel even a sliver of the anxiety he always caused you by leaving you behind.

"You know I-"

"'Don't like leaving you'," you mocked, finishing the sentence you'd heard so many times before. Asra's eyebrow twitched. You were starting to get on his nerves.

"Stop interrupting me, I'm trying to explain-"

"But you never actually explain anything!" you burst out, patience wearing to nothing. Your voice was loud, uncaring about the neighbours who would likely be asleep. "It's always 'I'll be back soon', 'Don't worry about me' or 'I wish you could come with'. You never tell me what you're doing or where you're going or give me a reason why I can't come with!"

"Please, stop shouting," Asra said, eyes closed like he was in pain. "I'm sorry, but please, if you could just trust me-"

"But you always leave me behind, why should I trust you?!"

Asra reeled back as though he'd been hit. In the new silence, your erratic breathing was more obvious than ever. You were furious.

Asra opened his mouth but you held up a hand to stop him.

"Stop," you begged. "Just don't, I can't hear your excuses right now."

You walked past him, slapping away his outstretched hand and pointedly ignoring his hurt scent. Right as you reached the doorway, you turned back to him only long enough to give your parting words.

"Just leave, Asra, and don't bother with the stupid fucking letter."

And with that, you briskly walked into your bedroom and slammed the door, heart and head pounding in equal measure. You listened for the tell tale sounds of him leaving before you collapsed onto your bed. Maybe the tears would come tomorrow, but right now you were simply too exhausted.

Tomorrow.

You could deal with everything tomorrow.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 6

Fic: A Woman Reborn (Part 6)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

Thank you to the uber-talented @thatbritishactor for this lovely moodboard. She’s made me quite a few of them which I’ll be using for the next few chapters. Thank you again, love!

Then…

Krista was so tightly wound up that Billy could feel the anger vibrating off of her. “You need to convince Y/N to sign the divorce papers.”

“The lawyers are negotiating but she keeps shutting down every option. She won’t move out and I’m not gonna leave that fucking penthouse. It’s mine!” So what if he couldn’t remember actually working hard for it? That didn’t matter. It was his, something he earned on his goddamn own, and no salty bitch was gonna take that away from him.

Her face was so still and blank she practically looked like a statue. “Maybe it’s time to try something else.”

“Meaning?”

“I did some digging into Y/N’s history, and I found something interesting.”

“What?”

Krista peered at him silently, and he felt anxiety unfurl in his stomach. Whatever it was, he wasn’t gonna like it.

“There was an incident report filed years ago. Suspected child abuse. But nothing came out of it, she was sent back to her parents.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “The system didn’t give a shit. Same old bullshit.”

“We can use it against her.”

Billy leaned back in his chair, a slow smile dawning on his face. That was the thing about her. She came across as a perfect angel, so good and goddamn moral, but on the inside she was cunning and manipulative and he fucking revered that about her. “How?”

“Get violent with her. Scare her. See how she reacts.”

“I’m not hitting her.” It was one thing to fight a woman on the field when he was trying to defend himself, but it didn’t sit well when he was the one attacking.

Krista gave him a patronising smile, like he was a child who just threw a temper tantrum about something stupid. “If she knows you have violent tendencies, it may prompt her to leave on her own.”

“I’m not hitting her!”

Her eyes returned to his. “There is another way but it’s risky.”

“What is it?”

“I have a few long-time patients who are… connected.”

“Connected?”

“They’re people of high influence who can get things done.”

Billy stared at her, eyebrow cocked. Apparently even the mob needed a shrink. Maybe Tony Soprano started a trend.

“If I ask them for a favour, they’ll want something in return. It could be something big, or something small. But it definitely won’t be easy. And I’ll need to deliver no matter what.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “So if we use them, we’ll owe them?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s keep them out of it.” He stood up. “I’ll get rid of her.”

“You’ll attack her?”

“I’ll... scare the fuck out of her.”

“It sounds like you’re still not sure. Maybe we should go ahead with Plan B.”

He reached out to squeeze Krista’s hand. “I’m not taking that risk when it comes to you. You mean too much to me.”

Krista smiled, her expression a little too smug for his liking, and he wondered if he was just manipulated into doing something she wanted in the first place.

***

Now…

He was inside Krista, trying to focus on her, on her perfect tits, and her perfect cunt, his fingers wrapped around her throat and choking her the way she liked it, sound of pain and pleasure echoing throughout the room. Yet he still couldn’t get you out of his head.

Your eyes.

Your body.

Your smell.

When he kissed your cheeks earlier tonight, he remembered the feel of his lips on your smooth sun-kissed skin, how your breathing grew shallow, how it took every fucking bit of strength he had not to sink to his knees and eat you out right there.

He hated you, he was supposed to loathe you, but with every day that passed his need for you grew more intense and he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand it. He wanted to go back to despising you and wanting to destroy you, he wanted to only focus on Krista and being happy with her, but even now as his body reacted to Krista’s touches his mind was entirely on you.

When he finally came, it was because he let his mind convince himself that it was your fucking body he was inside, that it was you holding him, biting his shoulders, your nails digging into his back. Not Krista. You. And he let himself imagine sinking into your softness, your pussy clenching around him, your eyes glazed with pleasure, your mouth swollen from kissing him roughly.

Panting for air, he fell into bed next to Krista, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet save for the sounds of both of their labored breaths slowly returning to normal. He closed his eyes, trying to get back to how happy he once felt when Krista would wrap herself around his body after sex, how her unexpected vulnerability during these moments made him feel like he’d really earned something special. It didn’t work. When she slid on top of him and started caressing his chest, all he felt was irritation.

“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” Krista said, hovering above him.

After that intense moment in your office, he’d left Anvil and rushed right to Krista’s apartment and kissed her. He wanted to forget you, to wipe every thought of you from his brain – except it didn’t work. You’d sunk your claws into him deeper.

“What’s going on?” Krista repeated, urging his face closer so he was forced to look at her.

“I missed you,” he lied smoothly.

“You should have listened to me. I told you working at Anvil was a mistake,” she noted disapprovingly. “You should be focused on making yourself a better man, not chasing your past.”

“It’s my company. I have a responsibility towards it.”

“That was the you from before. It’s not who you are now.”

Although agitated, he kept his emotions in check. He didn’t want to give her any further ammunition to use against him. “I’m not just gonna hand Anvil over to her. It’s mine.” As expected, Krista stiffened at the mention of you. As much as she tried to manipulate him, he also knew her triggers – and you were a big one for her.

“You’re right. You started it, you made it the success that it is now. She doesn’t get to take that away from you.”

He scoffed internally. Krista may have thought of herself as a highly evolved person above petty vulnerabilities, but she had her weaknesses like everyone else.

“I think it’s time to get rid of her for good,” she stated.

Billy didn’t move a muscle. Krista was watching him carefully and he couldn’t afford to show any reaction. While his insides flooded with panic at the thought of anything happening to you, to the point he had to will himself to breathe normally so Krista wouldn’t pick up on his anxiety, he gave her a soft smile and smoothed her hair down. “That’s the plan, love. I’m working on it.”

“She keeps filing complaints with the board. They’ve been ignoring her but it’s only a matter of time before she gets through to them.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Maybe we should go with Plan B and approach my patient. He could get rid of her very easily.”

Pure terror rushed through him. The thought of something happening to you was… no, absolutely not. He wouldn’t fucking allow it, but he also needed to find a way to control the situation without making Krista suspicious. If she got the mob involved, he’d lose the upper hand and he couldn’t risk that.  

Feigning a concerned expression, he cupped her face. “I’m not taking a chance with you. Nothing is worth jeopardizing your safety.” He continued the charade by leaning closer and dropping a kiss on her forehead. “After everything she did to you, I want to be the one to put her down. For us.”  

Krista finally smiled. He should have felt relief, but he didn’t. She may have fallen for his excuses today but there was only so long he could put her off. Eventually, she was going to demand your head on a platter. Which meant he had to convince you to back off. And he knew that wasn’t going to be easy.

Holding Krista in his arms, he contemplated his next move.

***

At exactly the same time you were in Davina’s kitchen, staring down at the glass of wine she just handed you. You were still shaken, your body still aroused from your interaction with Billy from earlier. You reminded yourself it had nothing do with him. Not really. You were young, your sexual drive still thriving, and you hadn’t slept with someone in years. Sure there were the sex toys but they weren’t enough. You missed the intimacy, of having someone hold you and kiss you, the feel of someone’s body pressed against your naked one. The last time you had sex was with Billy before the accident, more than two years ago, and reacting to him today – that was muscle memory. That’s all. You didn’t like who he was now, he wasn’t your husband, he was your enemy, but your body, your senses, they reacted to his smell, his touch, his mouth on your face and the hunger in his eyes. It didn’t mean anything.

“What happened?” Davina asked, pulling up a chair next to you.

“Billy almost kissed me today.”

“Oh.”

There was that surprise. After the level of vitriol he’d directed at you over the past two years, behaviour that everyone in your close circle had witnessed first-hand, of course it was a shock.

“Just be careful,” she continued. “You’re too sweet and I worry he’ll take advantage of that.”

Her words saddened you, because it was a reminder that no one in this universe knew you, the real you. Your best friend thought you were a kind person but she had no idea about the things you’d done before, what you were capable of. Billy was the only one who saw the darkness in you and loved you for it, and now he was gone. You’d never experience that kind of intimate bond again and it broke your heart.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to snap out of it. Falling down the depression well was the opposite of getting over it. “Don’t worry, I know it’s not for real,” you assured. “He’s trying to manipulate me, but it didn’t work.”

“Then why are you so shaken up?”

You didn’t respond, silent for a while. “I miss having sex.” You started picking at the pattern on the wine glass. “Did I tell you I went out on a date last week? I just wanted to get laid, that’s all. I even kissed the guy to shut him up but I felt nothing. And he wasn’t a bad kisser. I’ve had way worse than him. Even then, I just…” You shrugged your shoulders. “There was nothing.” You felt queasy, your stomach coiled into tight knots. “What if I’m broken now? What if there isn’t anyone who can turn me on anymore? What if my body only gets excited for Billy?”

“That’s bullshit.” Davina’s voice was confident, there was no hesitation in her eyes when you met her gaze. “Even before Billy you didn’t enjoy one-night stands. Some women like hookups, some don’t. You’re one of those people who needs an emotional connection to enjoy sex, there’s nothing wrong with that.” She grabbed your hand. “You remember how I had to convince you to sleep with Billy?”

You snickered, remembering those moments from years ago. It was Davina who advised you to enjoy Billy for who he was – a good time – except you’d ended up falling madly in love with him. “That decision changed my life.”

“So then trust me when I say there’s nothing wrong with you.” Her eyes were filled with kindness and understanding. “Even with Billy, you dated him for a month before you actually slept with him. So apply the same logic now. Of course some rando’s not going to do it for you, you need more.”

“I can’t. I’m not ready for that.”

“You don’t have to fall in love, Y/N. Just date, and have fun, and see what’s out there. And when you connect with somebody, things will take its natural course.” Davina cast you a worried glance. “You’re not thinking about sleeping with Billy again, are you? He’s not the same guy-”

“I know that. He’s fucking with me, probably because he thinks I’m out to take Anvil from him.”

“You could have done that very easily during the divorce.”

“Try telling him that.”

“Be careful. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t need to worry. I don’t have any blinders on when it comes to Billy.”

He was a manipulative asshole, he’d always been that, but before the accident it was the two of you against the world. Now, he was your enemy and actively plotting against you. That was something you could never let yourself forget.

“What about Matt?”

Davina’s voice brought you out of your reverie. “What about Matt?”

“He’s cute, and you’re already good friends with him. You should ask him out.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “He used to go out with Karen. He’s off-limits.”

“I don’t think she cares.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still weird.”

“Maybe you’re using that as an excuse,” Davina said pointedly. “The two of you are usually flirting with each other anyway.”

“That’s not true!”

“Okay fine, maybe I’m exaggerating, but it’s not a bad idea. You should think about it.”

“I don’t know… he just seems like a really nice guy. Too nice, you know?”

“I don’t think he’s that nice. Foggy says he gets around.”

“Last time you encouraged me to go out with a male slut I ended up marrying him.”

“And you had an amazing sex life after following my advice. So you should listen to me, you know?”

You laughed, you couldn’t help it. No matter what happened, Davina was always in your corner and you were grateful for that. “Okay, fine. I’ll think about it.”

Davina smiled, pouring you another glass of wine.

***

And that’s how you ended up in Matt’s apartment, admiring how he looked in his snug white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Bathed in a blinding yellow light projected from a display from the building across, he looked adorable. “Can I kiss you?” you asked nervously.

Matt was wearing his shades and you desperately wished you could see his eyes. You wanted to gauge his reaction, to see if he was disgusted by your question. You hoped he wouldn’t be. He seemed to enjoy your company, but you also weren’t typically pretty. Guys usually needed to get to know you first before they started to find you attractive – but maybe Matt was different. Maybe looks didn’t matter to him. Then again, you knew from Karen that he dated a lot of women, attractive women, so maybe you were just fooling yourself. Maybe he was like every other guy out there, sight or no sight, and you’d just made a gigantic fool of yourself. “Forget-”

“-Yes.”

Both of you spoke at the same moment.

Your heart started pounding in your chest. “Really?”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

He gifted you a smile, a charming one, the same smile that probably drove all the women crazy. “I haven’t.”

“Good. But first, can I ask why?”

“Why do I want to kiss you?” You laughed to alleviate the nervousness. “I mean, you���re hot. You know that.”

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “Why now? Why tonight?”

You bit down on your lip, contemplating the right words. “I just… I guess…” You sighed, realizing there was no point in lying to him. You didn’t want to anyway. “I need to know that I can still feel even though Billy’s gone.”

The smile on his face disappeared. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. It breaks you apart, brings your whole world crumbling down.”

Guilt flooded over you. You came here, demanding things from Matt without any consideration for him. He was your friend yet you’d intended to use him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake.”

“You don’t want to kiss me anymore?”

You swallowed audibly. “No, I still do. But it’s not fair to you. You’re obviously still getting over your ex-”

He dragged your chair closer, catching you by surprise, only stopping when you were directly in front of him.

“I’d like to kiss you too,” he murmured, his breath carrying the subtle scent of bourbon that he’d been drinking.

Your hands trembled, your body reacting to his close proximity. You reached out to pull off his glasses, noting how his beautiful eyes were lowered. He may have been blind but it was your fingers slowly tracing the contours of his face, memorizing every pore. There were old bruises on his face, making you wonder if he was prone to accidents, but the thought quickly fizzled when your fingers trailed down to his lips. You followed the shape of his pout, mesmerized by the sight. “You’re beautiful.”

“I think that’s my line.”

You smiled, nuzzling his nose with yours, before your lips closed over his.  

After so long of only kissing one man, it was strange to feel someone else’s mouth on yours.

But the initial awkwardness faded right away, and suddenly you were enthralled with his lips, the way his tongue probed the contours of your mouth, kissing you, touching you.

It had been so long since you’d been kissed so thoroughly, so languidly. There was all the time in the world and Matt was using every minute to drive you insane with his mouth.

When he pulled away finally, you found yourself on his lap and clinging to him. His stubble pricked at your skin, a sensation you didn’t even realize you missed. Your body was pressed against his muscular frame, and you ached to stroke every ridge and ab, to see if he felt as good as he looked. His rugged hands caressed your back, as if offering you comfort when it’s the last thing you wanted. You didn’t want reassurance or solace. You wanted him.

Breath ragged, he gave you a lopsided smile; butterflies fluttered in your stomach.  

“Feel anything?” he asked with a sly grin.

You didn’t respond, closing your mouth over his again.

To be continued...

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[munsnz]

Hii hope you're having a great week! If you feel like writing it i was thinking of a steve h x wheeler!reader, where they're having a dinner at the wheeler's and reader is nervous thinking it's going to be awkward and all but it actually goes pretty well.

LOVELY MESS — STEVE HARRINGTON

WARNINGS: anxiety, language??

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x GN! Wheeler! Reader

PSYCHOIE RADIO: What You Like — Wallows

L: Tysm for requesting anon!! This is actually something I’ve been wanting to write for a long ass time, and I’m so sorry this is a month late, I was In a rut for the third time this year, but finally, here it is!!

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay!” The kind-hearted guy, leaned towards you by the metal, old lockers, while you switched your books, shaking your head side to side, “Come on, whatever happened to Nance and I is over.”

Your eyes shifted to meet Steve Harrington’s, your 6-month boyfriend, who was also your younger sister’s ex boyfriend, Nancy Wheeler. Although she may have been younger, Nancy had it all, popularity, the smarts, and the looks, except you, the shadowed sister. Even your brother Mike Wheeler knew that Nance had outshined you, still being younger than you. That terribly tumbled apart as soon as Nancy confessed that she no longer loved Steve, telling him it was all bullshit, the words that hurt Steve those past nights.

You somehow got ahold of him, to get over the breakup as the two of you fought for the fate of the world along the group of kids, Mike’s friends, bringing you guys closer, leading up to confessing their feelings for one another.

“Steve I’d think it would be a bad idea.”

”How would it be a bad idea if we never tried it?” Steve cheekily grins, placing a warm kiss on your thin lips, smiling between them. You pushed his chest away with your hands, making him whine, “One more kiss come on! Or else we’ll have to go to the dinner!!”

You placed a notebook to block his wildly handsome face from kissing you again, giggling hysterically, “No, that’s my final answer.”

Steve had always been so fond about your family, the Wheelers, he knew Mike due to the previous events with the Mind Flayer and has met your mom when he was together with Nancy. But you still think it’d be awkward, you were going to bring your boyfriend, not your friend, nor Nancy’s boyfriend, but yours.

In denial, you always tried to not touch the subject, scared of it going wrong. As you saw Steve pout and cross his arms like a child, he mumbled, “I promised it’ll be ok, just let me go for once.”

”You already went to their house!” You squeaked as your palm hit his shoulder, slapping him playfully.

Steve raises his eyebrows, straightening his face while he sternly stares at you, “Yeah but I went as Nancy’s boyfriend, not yours right? So give me a shot honey.”

“I don’t know,” You started pacing along the hallway to get to class, knowing you were five minutes late, the weirdest thoughts flooding in. What if your parents don’t like the fact you’re with Steve? What if they prefer Nancy with him instead? What if-

Clearing his throat and whispering in your ear, Steve mumbled jokingly, “I know you’re overthinking Y/N.”

“Stop it!” You move a strand of hair from your face, clutching your books tighter, strolling away from him to the hallway of lockers, “What if it gets awkward? What if my parents don’t like the fact you’re with me!?”

”Can you at least think about it?” He shouts from afar, leaving his arms in the air, trying to get your attention while you tried your best to ignore him.

Soon enough, a teacher peeped their head out of the corresponding room towards the hallway for the source of disruption to find Steve’s tall figure continuing to get your attention, “Harrington! Off to class, you’re late!”

”Right! I’m sorry m’am,” Steve rapidly nods, zooming away to his Basketball period, where he knew for sure he’d get in trouble with the couch for being late. Still awaiting for his proposal to be answered with his loving mess, for a one of a kind dinner with your family, the Wheelers.

”Mike I swear to god you better not embarrass me!” You rush down the rug stairs, fixing your hair as you tucked it behind your ear, chasing your younger brother down. After Steve’s persuasion driving you nuts for that same day you both talked, you finally gave in to bring him over on a Thursday night under one condition, he wasn’t allowed to embarrass you or himself, just to keep things proper, and not awkward between your family.

As the days grew closer to the date of the dinner, the more anxious you got to the point you couldn’t bare to see Steve, keeping you and your thoughts to yourself for the past weeks. It was simple, a simple gathering with your family and boyfriend.

What could go wrong?

Everything and anything. From your parents making you look like a fool to be going out with your sister’s ex to Steve making a terrible impression on them although he’s met them already. You weren’t so logical, you were scared, not nervous but scared. What if this whole dinner would be an awkward disaster full of embarrassment and inconvenience?

But here you were, getting ready for the small event taking place in your home, chasing your brother to shut him up due to his witty comments. Now shoving your little sister Holly softly on the side to clear Mike’s path, he taunted, “Well I’m not the one kissing the pillow thinking it’s Steve! Mwah mwah!”

”Thats not true, Mike!”

You tried to reach to stop Mike from speeding through the kitchen but before you could make any other move, Mrs. Wheeler scolds at you two, “No running inside the house!”

”Sorry mom!” Both you and Mike loudly shout, slowing down your pace, suddenly catching up to Mike by dragging the collar of his blue striped polo.

As he squealed in pain and angst, you tackle him to the couch, tickling his sides on the soft brown cushion, “I got you! Now say it! Surrender!”

”Never!” His high-pitched giggled filled the cozy room, squirming under you, trying to free from your grip. Another wave of the tingles on his ribs were coming back, your fingers moving on his back.

You continued to make him laugh hysterically, lowering your voice to mimicking a villain both of you once watched on tv during a weekend night, “You must proclaim yourself as a liar! Or ye shall face the consequences!”

“I will not surrender-“

Instantly after the sharing of laughter being held by the siblings, you heard the rhythmic chime from the doorbell, Holly was making a fuss about her lack of apple juice in her sippy cup as Nancy tried to leave the porcelain plates on the clothed table in the dining room. You and Mike frantically got up from the couch after your mother was pulling you away apart, “Hey, he’s here!”

Shit.

You knew for a fact your loved one was here, an awful feel of unease aroused, making you tense unlike the past few moments before you heard the doorbell. Steve Harrington was here, at your door, for dinner with your family.

Gulping nervously, you hurried to get the door, but surprisingly Mrs. Wheeler got there before you could stand up from the comfortable couch, your heart pacing at an unstoppable speed, ruffling your top. Mrs. Wheeler opened the wooden door to find that same familiar, attractive face, both Mike and you peering on the side, roses in his hands.

”Mrs. Wheeler!” Steve kindly greets, handing her the bouquet of roses at the door, making her receive them with a soft grin.

“Hey there Steve- oh!” Mrs. Wheeler yelps when Mike harshly shoved you next to your mother, bumping shoulders with her, goofily grinning in front of him.

”Hi Steve,” You childly mimicked, but realizing the fool you made yourself look like, regretting your stupid action you made in front of your boyfriend.

As your mom signaled the brunette to walk inside the welcoming room, Steve lightly pecked your cheek, slightly bringing you closer to himself from the side as both of you solemnly walked inside the warm room. Watching the two of you, Mike made smooching and kissing noises behind you, kicking him in the shin, squeaks of pain coming out of your younger brother’s mouth in order for him to shut up.

And right as you saw Nancy slightly wave at him while walking off rapidly to find Holly for dinnertime, a sense of insecurity rushed in you. You leisurely shifted away from him, his eyes darting towards you knowing that something was up while Mrs. Wheeler rushed to the kitchen for the home cooked meal. Only 5 minutes in of the gathering and you were an anxious mess already, quietly panicking if anything else so terrible would happen, your fingers tapping the side of your thighs where they stood upon you.

“You know you can sit down right?” A gentle voice, your sister’s voice perked in the silence telling Steve. Nancy holding the little one in her arms, moved to sit Holly down as Mike lounged in the wooden chair almost staring you down jokingly to see your funny expressions.

Steve whips his head around, chuckling softly, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “Yeah, this is why this is a dinner Nancy. You know, for sitting down and eating?”

A silence formed between the five of you, later on creating an awkward melody of chuckles being shared between Nancy and Steve, then turning away from each other, leaving this pit in your stomach at such uncomfortable state. Thoughts. Terrible thoughts rolled in meanwhile you sat which Steve offered to give you, Mike’s eyes widening while drinking the glass of milk being on the top of the table to try his best not to giggle.

Afterwards, Mrs. Wheeler interrupted the awfully weird silence with a fake, cheerful tone you knew wouldn’t be her usual self, carrying in the large plate with roasted chicken. She strictly ushered you and Nancy to bring in the rest of the side dishes from the kitchen out to the dining room as Mike and Steve chatted a little before your father strolled in to greet your boyfriend.

“Chill out Y/N,” Nancy places her thin hand on your left arm calmly, you turned your head around you understand what she was saying, “You seem tense, it’s okay.”

You scoffed at her comment jokingly, placing the bowl of greens onto the table when Nancy put the dish with fresh mashed potatoes as well. All of you took a seat, ready to feast, Steve clearing his throat to speak up, “Thank you so much Mrs. Wheeler for inviting me and for this wonderful dinner.”

“No problem Steve, ever since we met you with Nancy, you’ve been a great guy,” Your mother softly smiled, but changed her expressions once you shot your eyes towards her, “Anyways, enjoy the meal.”

Mumbles of thank yous and your welcomes being shared between one another, beginning to eat the delicious food for the evening. Shakily, you grabbed onto the silver fork, stabbing it into the chicken to eat it, the sound of plates moving around and cups being sipped, you decided to speak up, “Steve has been hanging out with Mike lately, they’re getting alone quite well.”

Your mother’s eyes widened, “Oh really? That seems like fun, having an older brother figure must be pretty cool knowing that Mike has grown up with a house full of girls right?”

Caught off guard from his meal, Mike hesitantly nodded while he falsely smiled, peering over to Steve for an agreement, “Yeah, Mike might be a little trouble with the rest of the boys, but he’s fun to be with at times.”

”A little trouble,” Your brother repeated jokingly under his breath, applying a mischievous look on his face, leaning back onto his chair, “I don’t think Y/N and Steve studying their human anatomy is-“

Before any reactions were being made from the regrettable comment your annoying brother made, Nancy slapped her hand across his mouth to shut up before he said anymore weird nonsense about you and your significant other. Steve worriedly glanced towards you with a beet red tinted face, almost wishing your mom hadn’t heard him while you stuffed your face trying to hide your expression.

“Michael what was that?” Mrs. Wheeler shot up a look towards your brother, laying her fork down with a confused face, “Human anatomy?”

In a stuttering mess, you tried to bring up some lame excuse to cover up along with Steve, you were sick to your core, knowing the stupidity that Mike claimed to be. It could be that your parents would say something terrible, you were flushed in multiple shades of red. You knew this dinner was even more terrible than expected, now your brother was making you and Steve look like a couple of fools, your hands sweating. Nancy chimed in to help between your idiotic stumbling, “It was this code name Mike used with the party and them.”

“Mmm yeah totally!” Steve wearily smiled, readjusting the hem of his red blouse he wore, watching you nod in response, a wave of relief washing inside you, “It’s the most oblivious things that are the most secretive, right Mike?”

Both you and Nancy darted a death glare towards the black-haired boy, who nodded rapidly under the threat of the siblings, “Yeah, Dustin was the one who made it up.”

”Kids these days,” Your father, Mr. Wheeler mumbles, slicing his part of the chicken in half with the butter knife as he shook his head.

Mrs. Wheeler humbly agreed, you mouthed a silent “thank you” towards Nancy’s direction, giving you a kind thumbs up later to kick Mike’s shin under the table, a quiet yelp escaping his lips for the second time. Later, feeling your hands gripping ever so tightly onto Steve’s large ones, being placed on your shaky leg.

Nancy brought up a conversation about an upcoming school event for the seniors at Hawkins High, Steve being able to catch up on the conversation. The mood was slightly calmer than it were before, things lessened up a bit as your harsh grip softened, feeling more balmy. Your boyfriend smiled, while looking off to your mom and dad who were intrigued by the conversation you were all having. Peace at last, worries washed away, it was okay.

Giggles and words were filled the large home, dessert was already handed out, Steve was on a roll to making your parents life along with your siblings, everything had merrily turned out great except the part where your mother talked about your embarrassing stories when you were little. This wasn’t so bad after all, Steve was definitely correct for once.

“Okay I have one more joke,” Your boyfriend sighed happily after the amount of laughter shared, your cheeks almost hurt from smiling too much. Steve set down his spoon then proceeded, “What did the grape say when they squished it?”

Everyone on the table shrugged, waiting for the hilarious response from him, Mike being close to burst into laughter before he said anything until Steve cleared his throat to answer, “Nothing, it just whined a little, get it?”

Once the joke was heard, your family surrounded the room with laughter, Mrs. Wheeler happily sighed after catching her breath, getting up to take the dessert plates back to the kitchen, picking one up at a time. Meanwhile your father and sister chuckled, you smiled like a freak towards Steve who was sitting next to you, holding your hand.

“See? I told you you shouldn’t have worried about his,” He whispers softly, giving you a light kiss, smiling as well, “You’re a lovely mess.”

You smacked his shoulder, earning a laugh from him, “I know I know, but at least I’m your lovely mess right?”

”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Both Nancy and Mike, your siblings chanted with cheeky smiles plastered on their face, being in front of you and overhearing your conversation. Steve leaned in and shut his eyes to peck your lips, suddenly you placed a napkin in front of you to avoid him, catching him off guard. Such small act brought your siblings to laugh at him, he shook his head playfully, sniggering along. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, this brought all of you together, it was okay, no, better than okay. I guess it was just Steve’s lovely mess.

tags — @samiyamuntaha @thepowerstoner @ughgclden

masterlist — request open

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 16) - Drowning

Summary: The reader’s night goes from bad to awful fast but thankfully Jensen shows up at the last second to stop things from getting any worse. But the guilt the reader feels over trying to end things with Jensen to protect him starts to become too much...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, being drunk, minor violence, scary situations, angst, fighting, fluff, offscreen death of minor character, anxiety, panic attack, minor injury

A/N: This chapter is a whirlwind! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was a close to an hour later and you were halfway through a bottle of bourbon, laying on the back porch of your mom’s house, staring at the rafters and debating finishing off the whole thing.

“Y/N?” you heard. Your skin crawled as you sat up, spotting your father at the other end of the wrap around. “Are you drunk?”

“This would be an appropriate time to tell you that yes, I am and I also have this,” you said, reaching behind your and picking up a hunting rifle. “I might be plastered but I think that’ll only improve my aim. I’ll be nice and shoot for your balls first.”

“You got so much wrong about me kid.”

You fired a shot near his feet and he held up his hands.

“Why don’t you go jump off a bridge or some shit,” you said.

“Y/N.”

You pulled the trigger as he took a step forward and he jumped when it hit the window nearby. You pulled again but it just clicked as he walked closer. 

“Your new momma never taught you that kind of rifle only has two shots, did she,” he said. You tried to stand but got way too dizzy and fell down. 

“Well I can still tear you apart with my teeth,” you said. 

“You’re drunk and judging by your face, very upset. What happened to that boy you were with? I didn’t see him when I looked around.”

“Touch me and that boy will rip your head off.”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he said, stepping far too close for your liking. You swung the rifle at him but he caught it and kicked the bottle away before you could get at it. “All grown up. Probably enjoy it now.”

You crawled back as far as you could, eyes darting behind him when you saw movement. You barely caught the brown hair and green eyes before your father was face first on the porch. You tried to stand but he yanked on your ankle and pulled you down hard. It took a long time to peel open your eyes again, your father now at Jensen’s feet. Jensen pushed down on his back while he talked on the phone to someone and it didn’t take long to hear sirens in the distance.

“For the record,” said Jensen as he walked over to you and crouched down, his belt around your father’s wrists, “I didn’t believe you for a second. Oh and you’re a dumbass but you’re my dumbass. Forever. Got it?”

“I couldn’t…” you trailed off. He nodded and took off his flannel, wrapping it over your shoulders. “I knew he would do something and I couldn’t have him near the kids or know they exist. I couldn’t-”

“I know, honey,” he said. “But don’t you dare ever do anything like that again.”

You put your head down sniffled, dizzy still as he rubbed your back before going back to watching your dad.

It took an hour or so before you could go home and you were sober enough to stand on your own. 

“Can I ask why you made the executive decision that you did?” asked Jensen, holding your arm loosely as you got into his car to head back.

“Because I’m stupid,” you said dryly from the passenger seat as he turned on his SUV.

“I mean more so why didn’t you come to me if you were scared? Why make up a lie?”

“You did let me go. You must have believed me at least for a few seconds,” you said.

“No, I actually didn’t.”

“You let me go.”

He was quiet until you got close to the brewery, Jensen pulling off onto the plot of land he owned next to it. You leaned your head against the cold window and he turned off the engine.

“This whole, tired, don’t talk to me attitude right now? Been there. Lived it. I know it’s bullshit.”

“You let me leave so you did believe me so-” you said, Jensen pressing a finger to your lips. 

“I am certain of very few things and you are one of them. I let you go so I could figure out what scared you so badly you’d lie, to me. There’s only one thing I can think of so before you even had a foot out of that house, I was calling people and I got put on with Detective Finn who worked your case as a kid and I find out that dick for brains sack of shit just moved practically down the street from us. It does not take a genius to put the pieces together.”

“Fine! I did it in some stupid attempt to protect you,” you said. You glared at him and he shook his head. “What?”

“I’m not gonna get mad at you.” You put your head back on the window and stared out to the dark trees, sniffling some. “Why do you want me to be angry with you?”

“Uh because I didn’t forget to turn on the washing machine or leave on a light. I lied. I lied so big that-”

“You lied to protect your family from a monster. Do I wish you had told me? Yes. But I fuck up so much and you’ve never once been angry with me for making a mistake and I’ll never be angry with you for making one either. I know you want me to be angry with you, feel like you should be punished for what you imagine is hurting me. But you didn’t hurt me, Y/N. You didn’t and I know you get that because so many times you’ve been on the other side of this and I know you’ve never once thought, oh yeah Jensen’s a piece of shit, let him really have it. No. Just no. So I’m not getting mad at you and I don’t know what to fucking say to make you feel better like you always do me and I’m so sorry he got so close to hurting you again. But I’m really good at fighting monsters in this family. So please next time, I don’t care if you’re scared of the bug on the wall or you think someone’s outside the house or what it is. If you’re scared, tell me and I’ll do my best to make it go away, I promise.”

“What do you do when you want to hate yourself for being an idiot?” you asked quietly. You heard him shift in his seat and you shut your eyes, the sound of a door opening and then another. Strong arms wrapped around you and you buried your face in his chest.

“I try to treat myself as kindly as she does. She would never hate me and she hates when I’m in pain. I see it all over her face. So I try to cut myself some slack and ask myself if she would hate me and when I realize no, I’m forced to forgive myself and it normally takes a few hours but it works pretty good. A lot of hugs and cuddling don’t hurt either.”

“Thank you for stopping him.”

“Don’t.”

“Thank you. I owe you so, so much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing. We got each other’s backs and that’s all there is to it. I’m just sad I missed you trying to shoot his dick off.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Find my iPhone. Also I figured that was a good place to check,” he said. “I would have been here sooner if Jared didn’t drive like a tortoise over to the house to watch the kids.”

“I’m sorry I scared you...and you had to do that tonight.”

“Oh punching your father was a personal highlight for me. Trust me,” he said. He stroked your cheek and you turned into the touch, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re safe.”

“He’s going to get out on bail and-”

“And we have a very good lawyer. Oh, and I know the mayor so fuck his ass, he’s not getting bail.”

You buried your face once again and he put a finger under your chin, lifting it up.

“You’re still scared.”

“He’s gonna get arrested for what, trespassing? Attempted assault? I was drunk and shot at him. He can spin it. He can spin it and be out on the street like that.”

“I’m going to ask the lawyer to do something else, something that maybe can take care of that problem.”

“What?” 

“Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. He’s been gone for fifteen years. I have this bad feeling you weren’t the only one. Or even before that.”

“Or maybe he just hates me.”

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m gonna take care of it.”

“Jensen, I know you don’t have to worry about the money but it might still not be enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said. “Or else next time I’ll be the one with the rifle.”

“You would kill him?”

“Honestly? Yeah if it came to it. I wish people like him died in car crashes, not innocent ones. We have every right to protect ourselves and our family and I’m not letting him touch the kids or you ever.”

“I should probably say that’s bad but I don’t disagree.”

“Money works a lot. A real lot. Maybe he did something super bad and he can rot in prison forever.”

“Maybe,” you said, spotting a cruiser pull up nearby. 

“Stay here, sweetie,” he said. He walked over while the officer got out. He spoke to Jensen for a moment, Jensen’s face a bit blank when he turned around. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your dad had a heart attack in the backseat,” said Jensen quietly. You cocked your head and he shook his. “Your father. In the police cruiser that was taking him for booking. He was just pronounced.”

“He died?”

“He was really overweight and didn’t look to be in the best health. He probably got his heart rate up too high and...the officer said he’d escort us home, stay outside the house for the night, calm our nerves.”

“He’s really dead?” you asked. You looked over at the officer and he came over, giving you a quick smile. “He really died?”

“Yes mam.”

“What...happens now?” you asked.

“We’ll file the report but you don’t necessarily need to press charges anymore. You’re next of kin as far as we’re aware so the body…” he trailed off when he looked at you. “We can talk about this with your lawyer.”

“Thanks,” said Jensen. “We’ll be on the road in a minute.” 

The officer climbed back in his cruiser, Jensen leaning against the doorframe. He tucked your hair behind your ear, letting out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he said. He stroked your cheek, your head turning up. “What is it, honey?”

“I don’t feel bad at all. I’m actually happy. That kinda is freaking me out a little. You shouldn’t be happy someone died.”

“Most people you’re right, you shouldn’t. But there are exceptions. He tormented you. He harassed you. He came after our family. I’m gonna sleep just fine tonight knowing he’s never coming back in our lives.”

“Were you scared of him?” He ducked his head down and you took hold of his hand. “Jensen.”

“Put it this way, I’d protect my family by any means necessary. What scares me was what if I was five minutes later tonight. Ten minutes. My job is to protect you and especially from monsters like that.”

“I’m a big girl Jensen. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

“Yes I do, just like if it were me in your shoes I know you’d have done the same exact thing. We protect each other. It’s not because I’m the guy or I’m stronger. You’re my family and that’s what we do.”

“Thank you for protecting me and forgiving me for being stupid earlier,” you said. He smiled and nodded.

“You’re my dumbass and I’m yours,” he said. “Want to go home now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

“He’s really gonna spend the night?” you asked half an hour later in bed, Jensen shutting the door after himself. “He knows there’s a cop outside, right?”

“What can I say, Jared...he thinks of you like a little sister,” he said. “I can’t blame him for being protective.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You climbed out of bed and went downstairs, the light dim aside from where Jared was reading on the couch, a blanket over his legs. He looked over the top of the book and set it down, sitting up.

“Everything alright?” he asked. You smiled and took a seat on the edge of the couch, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thanks for staying,” you said, a pair of large arms wrapped around your back. 

“Of course.”

“You do know there’s nobody to bother us now, right?”

“I know. Some peace of mind never hurt anybody though,” he said. “Go on back to your fiance. You guys had a rough night.”

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes. “Thanks.”

He kissed your temple and you returned to your room, Jensen pulling you under the covers. You let out a deep breath, turning into his side. 

“Here,” he said. He started to take off his bracelet but you shook your head.

“It’s yours, Jensen. I feel safe, I promise.”

“You’re tense still, honey.”

“Still working on that not being so angry at myself thing,” you said. He smiled and kissed you quickly, laying an arm over your waist. “I know what you said but I still want you to be pissed at me for lying.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

“You didn’t hurt me, Y/N and you know what? Sometimes, you’re gonna hurt me and I’m gonna hurt you. We’ll have bad days and get annoyed with one another. I’ll leave dishes in the sink and make a mess of the closet. You’ll chew with your mouth open and never fill up your car with gas until it’s too low. We’re not perfect. But even if we do hurt each other, we forgive each other because that’s what you do. We’re not always gonna like each other and what we do but we’ll always love each other. I don’t want to be mad at you. I want you to feel safe and know that I understand why you did what you did. I do. Please try to let it go, for me.”

“I am trying,” you said quietly. You shut your eyes and turned away, his arm over you pulling you back against his chest. “You’re normal. I can’t just stop hating myself like that.”

“You think I’m normal?” he chuckled. “Me?”

“Did you ever have to punch Dee’s psycho father? Did you ever have to talk about protecting her? Did she ever put your family in danger? Did she ever-”

“Y/N.”

“Go away,” you said, pushing his arm off of you. You moved over farther on your side of the bed, tucking your covers under your chin. The bed shifted and you tried to move again but his arm pulled you straight back to his chest, fingers dipping under your ribcage and holding you in place. 

“I might not have had to have done those things for her but I would have. For the record, you didn’t put anyone in danger. That fucking asshole did. It is not your fault he was an evil and vile person. All you did was try to protect us because you were scared and I know, I know you didn’t tell me because you’re so scared of that man and I don’t blame you. He made my skin crawl and I interacted with him for all of five minutes. Get it out of your system however you need to but you are stuck with me forever. There is nothing you could do to make me want you gone so get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you breathed out. You pulled your sheets over your head, taking deep heaving breaths. “You have so much to worry about already. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle the news?” he asked. “That your father was so close by?”

“I thought you’d hate me,” you whispered. He tugged down your sheets and you squeezed your eyes shut as he turned you around.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now you’re angry.”

“Look at me.” You forced them open, meeting a soft face and sad eyes. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“My shit’s supposed to stay in the past. You don’t…” you said, Jensen furrowing his brow. “See, you’re mad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your shit stays in the past.”

“It means you’ve had the world’s worst fucking year and you’re in such a good place now and you need to focus on you and not have my shit come in and fuck that up.”

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” he asked.

“No of course not.”

“It sounds like you’re saying that you think you can’t have problems cause I can’t handle it.”

“Well at least I got what I wanted with you pissed,” you said, glaring up at him, tears welling in your eyes. You tried to push away but he held his arm around you. “Jensen, let me up.” You pushed again and he glared right back. “Stop it. Let me out of bed.” He only glared and you tore your eyes away from his face. 

“Do you think I’m weak?”

“No,” you said, keeping your head low.

“Then why-”

“Because you need a fucking break. I dealt with this shit years and years ago. I understand needing a fucking break and people need to take care of you, help you. You’re a different man than the one I met way back in January. You’re so happy and healthy and you have a different outlook on life again and that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you for that. But you’re just, just out of the woods and I’m not gonna be the one that sends you back in because of my fucking problems.”

“They’re our fucking problems,” he said. “Our problems. There’s no your problems or my problems anymore. It’s us together. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing on his chest. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“I said stop!”

“Tell me.”

“Because I’m scared,” you said. He let his hold go lax and you sat up, getting out of bed. You walked over to the balcony door and rested your forehead against the cool glass. The bed creaked and you felt his presence behind you. 

“You’re scared of me.” You scrunched up your face and nodded. “Why?”

“Because if you realized how fucked up I am, you wouldn’t come near me with a ten foot pole. I’m not supposed to cause you problems. I’m supposed to fix them, be there for you.”

“But I can’t be there for you. You assume I’m just a dick where it’s only me and my shit that we can work on right?” he said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Relationships go both ways, Y/N. I don’t expect you to take care of me for the rest of my life. You are allowed to need help too.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. He was frowning, his voice an octave higher if you didn’t know any better. “Do you honestly think I would have been angry at you if you told me about your father being in town? Do you?”

“I put the kids-”

“For the last time, you didn’t put anyone in danger,” he growled. “What is going on with you?”

“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not supposed to cause any problems!” you said.

“Yes you are! You, me, the kids. We’re all gonna have fucking problems sooner or later. Why do you think I’d hate you for telling me you had a problem, sweetheart?”

You fidgeted with the bottom of your shirt, looking past him.

“Something with your dad, isn’t it. Something got triggered in you after that phone call with the detective, didn’t it.”

“Call Ray. Tell him to come over,” you said quietly. He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending off a quick message before he was guiding you to sit on the bed.

“Honey,” he said when you pulled away from him. “Okay, no touching. Can I get you anything while we wait for Ray?”

“Probably should tell that cop that we’re expecting someone,” you said, rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Fuck, tell Ray it’s the help thing. He’ll understand.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. You rubbed your legs harder and he stared at you. “Y/N.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” you grit out. “I haven’t had one since I was eight.”

Your head was turned and you felt his hands on your cheeks, Jensen forcing a smile. You stared for a long beat before you took a breath, his head nodding. 

“That feels better,” you said, your hands not rubbing so hard. You heard feet and the door open, glancing behind Jensen to catch Jared in the doorway. You could feel your heart rate pick up, Jared nodding.

“I get panic attacks too,” he said. You nodded and Jensen glanced over his shoulder. “I heard arguing.”

“Can you tell that cop outside Ray is coming by and to let him in?” said Jensen.

“Sure. Who’s Ray?” asked Jared.

“Her mom’s old boyfriend and foster dad. He was her therapist when she was little. Something’s not right,” said Jensen.

“I’ll send him up as soon as he gets here.”

You felt calmer by the time Ray was walking in fifteen minutes later in sweats and not much more. 

“Hey kiddo,” said Ray, giving you a quick hug before he squatted down in front of you. “Doing okay?”

You shook your head and shut your eyes, Jensen holding an arm around you. He explained what happened, Ray staying quiet. You eventually opened your eyes to stare at the floor, Ray standing and pulling over the bench from the end of the bed to sit on. 

“Y/N do you want Jensen to stay?” he asked. You nodded and he hummed. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you said dryly. “Can I have some water?”

Jensen got up and retrieved a glass from the bathroom, the pair of them watching you chug half of it down before you sat it on the nightstand.

“Y/N, does Jensen know what triggered you?” he asked.

“Not specifically. Asking for help he figured out but not the reason,” you said, looking away. 

“Well on the bright side, you didn’t have a panic attack, you worked through it, you trusted Jensen to help you through it even if he didn’t know why and some of your coping skills helped you out quite a bit. But this is something Jensen needs to know. You’ll need help in a relationship and I know this is the big one but he needs to know so this never happens again,” said Ray. 

“What if he thinks I overreacted?” you said.

“I won’t, trust me,” said Jensen. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“Go on, Y/N,” said Ray. You took a deep breath and Jensen held your hand, stroking his thumb over the back.

“So you kinda figured out that me having a problem was the trigger and that I didn’t ask for your help earlier and kinda assumed a bad reaction if I did.”

“Yup and that’s all okay,” he said softly. 

“It wasn’t because of you that I assumed you’d have a bad reaction. It was something that happened to me that sort of...default my head to react and anticipate things in a certain way in that particular situation.”

“So if you have a problem and ask for help, you assume the person you’re asking for help from will not take it in a good way?” he asked.

“Yeah, basically. If it’s a really big problem and if I anticipate that the problem would upset the person I’m asking then my head assumes this bad thing will happen. In that case, it assumes the much better option is to not reveal the problem at all and handle it myself because then the bad thing won’t happen,” you said.

“The bad thing. It’s bad isn’t it,” he said. “Really bad.”

“Y/N, remember you can share without the graphics involved,” said Ray. You nodded and leaned your head back.

“When I was six I broke something of my dad’s. A mug. His favorite mug. I picked up the pieces but I knew it was his favorite so I didn’t throw it out. I asked him for help putting it back together,” you said. “The amount of rage he had over a broken mug...I never experienced such a horrible day in all eight years as that one.”

He didn’t say anything and you tucked your feet up, holding one up to him and showing the bottom. He stared at it and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. It took him a moment but you saw when he noticed the small little scars. His eyes flickered back to yours and you nodded.

“He hurt me badly,” you said. “All day long.” He stared at you and you told him exactly the way the scars came to be, Jensen shuddering and closing his eyes. “It wasn’t a good day.”

“Fuck,” he said, standing up and rubbing his arm. “You were six?”

He shook his head and went to the balcony door, taking a deep breath.

“Jensen. You alright?” asked Ray.

“No,” he said, turning around, looking to you. “That many times?”

“One for every broken piece,” you said. He ran his hands over his face and shut his eyes. “The worst thing was just that it went on all day. It was long enough for me to interpret it as conditioning for a result of an event rather than just a bad memory from everything me and Ray worked out back in the day. It hasn’t been a trigger for me ever really but we knew it could be someday for a big life problem potentially. I’m guessing with it involving my dad, it kinda sent me into overdrive earlier.”

“Jensen,” said Ray, shooting you a quick glance. “Y/N’s okay. I’m actually quite impressed with her behavior. There was no hesitancy or waiver in her voice. I don’t feel as though this will likely be an issue ever again now that it’s out in the open and her father is gone.”

“You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had,” said Jensen, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know every horrible thing that’s happened to her and, and you just...all you did was throw him out of the country for fifteen years?”

“First off, the law was different back then and it was a lifetime ban. Second of all, buddy, violence isn’t always the answer to violence,” said Ray, getting to his feet.

“You should have adopted her.”

“She didn’t want me to.”

“You were the damn adult. She was the kid. Act like one,” said Jensen. “I mean fuck, you adopted two other kids only a few years later.”

“If I had adopted her you wouldn’t even know she fucking exists,” shot back Ray. “Her father still would have come back and this would have happened regardless.”

“You should have done what you needed to the second he popped up again when she was a teenager.”

“I did not strike you as a violent man but I do not like it.”

“She was almost assaulted by that man again tonight,” growled Jensen. “He tortured her and tormented her and he got barely any time at all for that. I would have-”

“Why’d you call the police then?” he asked. Jensen swallowed and Ray shrugged. “Why back at the farmhouse did you call the police? You could have killed him, called it self-defense and been done with it. Why?”

Jensen looked down and Ray sighed.

“The price for being a good person is making hard decisions, Jensen. Would I have loved to have rid the world of that son of a bitch the second I learned all about him? Oh you don’t know the half of it. I’m a trauma therapist, Jensen. Mostly for kids and teenagers. Do you know how much fucked up shit I’ve heard in my life? The world has so much ugliness in it. But it’s got good too and that’s why you called the police like you were supposed to and that’s why she loves you. She needs a good man, not a violent one. I’m not saying don’t think about protecting your family. But don’t act on it unless you don’t have a fucking choice, kid. Understand me?”

Jensen nodded and Ray cleared his throat.

“Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jensen quietly.

“Ray, don’t get mad at him. He’s not used to this stuff,” you said. You stood and pulled Jensen back to the bed, Ray crossing his arms and nodding. “If I ever feel this happening again, what should I do?”

“You could work on reconditioning instead,” said Ray. “Work on saying I have a problem to Jensen and ask for help, even if there isn’t a problem. If Jensen responds positively or even neutrally and you two work at it maybe an hour or so a day for the next week or two, I don’t think you’ll ever have to be afraid of that trigger coming back. All of your triggers Y/N have involved your father. I know similarities can set you off but they’re small, manageable. You never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.”

“I know. I should have trusted my partner to have my back,” you said.

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t before and I definitely don’t now,” said Jensen. Ray smiled and pulled the bench back over to the bed. 

“Get some rest you two,” he said. 

“Ray?” you said after he gave you a hug. “Why didn’t you adopt me?”

“Honestly?” he asked. You nodded, Jensen preening his ears. “You reminded me so much of your mother and I was devastated when we lost her. I should have been the adult and done what was right but after seeing her in pain for years...I didn’t have it in me to take on a grieving teenager that would have been just as angry back at me. She already was so angry then, I would have put fuel on the flames. I didn’t have it in me to be strong anymore and that’s my mistake for not trying.”

“You can adopt adults,” said Jensen. You both looked at him and he smiled. “Adults can be adopted.”

“Not sure if…” trailed off Ray as you smiled at him. “Y/N, we’ve only just started talking again.”

“Maybe if that keeps going well...maybe things could...work out…” you said. “If you wanted.”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that,” he said with a smile. “It’s getting late. Put her to bed. Don’t be surprised if there’s a nightmare or two tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you,” said Jensen as Ray started to leave.

“Take care of her kid,” he said. Jensen nodded and you lay back in bed, the house growing quiet. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Jensen, his head lowering after a few moments. “I should have realized…”

“You did realize,” you said, sitting up. “Even when my head couldn’t come out and say I trust you and I know I’m acting a certain way because of what my dad put me through, you stayed calm and figured it out. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I got to pretend to be a cowboy and my dad read me stories when I was six. The worst thing I ever got was a few smacks but I know he regrets doing that,” he said. “Even then it was because I was acting out not…I just don’t understand why he would ever hurt you.”

“I stopped trying to understand him a long time ago,” you said, the door opening. You both turned, Arrow walking in with a pair of wet eyes. “You have a nightmare, sweetie?”

“I went…to the bathroom…” she said when you noticed her holding her wrist. Jensen hopped up and walked over, picking her up gently and setting her beside you. “I fell down off the step stool. It was wet.”

“Tell me what hurts,” he said.

“My hand,” she said. 

“Let daddy see,” you said. She moved her hand back and you both saw her wrist was swollen and bruised. Jensen swore under his breath and guided her hand back on it. “Okay, you hold it if it feels better that way, honey. Daddy, I think Arrow should go to urgent care.”

“Arrow, why don’t you go get your dolly and we’ll bring her with us. We might have to wait a minute,” he said. “Be careful okay? I’ll come get you in just a minute.”

“Mommy?” she asked, staring up at you. 

“Mommy’s really tired-” said Jensen when you stood up.

“Uncle Jared is staying over though, daddy. Go get your dolly and mommy and daddy will get dressed,” you said. She sniffled but climbed down okay, Jensen sighing when she left the room. “She wants me there and I want to be there. I’m going.”

“Alright but you’re going to try and get some sleep in the waiting room at least, please.”

“No promises.”

________

A/N: Read Part 17 here!

[ohliviaruth]

Try as Olivia may, there’s no making sense of what’s just happened.

While she’s seen her fair share of crazy fucking shit — because really, who the hell hasn’t at this point unless they’ve been living under a goddamned rock — watching some kind of other-worldly creature suck out someone’s….soul? Life essence?

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an every-day sort of thing. Not even during the end of the world.

❝ Hey — yeah, yeah, it’s me. We have to go, Pete, come on. ❞

The fire across from them crackles, the heat from it already increasing in intensity; they need to get out of here, and soon, or they’re going to end up no different than the walkers they’ve had to set fire to. 

                Where is he?

So, whatever that thing was — Peter knows him. 

(Okay, that’ll have to be a question for later, because what the actual fuck is going on?)

❝ Don’t be fucking stupid, Pete. We’ll move faster if you let me help. ❞ Despite the words, Liv’s tone is gentle, the fear of nearly losing him driving her forward; immediately does she take one of his arms and sling it over her shoulder, supporting as much of his weight as she can while they make their way out of the clearing.

Away from the fire. Away from the nightmare.

❝ Hey, you can’t sleep on me yet, alright? We gotta’ wait until we get up the stairs to the roof at least. ❞ She can’t be sure what injuries he’d sustained before her arrival — while she’d followed his attackers as fast as possible, she’d still needed to be careful; her dying wouldn’t exactly help him get out of that place.

Though after seeing what she has, that thought seems incorrect. 

Something had protected Peter — but what?

❝ I have painkillers in my bag, ❞ it’s offered while they make their way back up to the roof, each step more difficult than the last; Peter isn’t heavy, but watching out for Walkers and trying to keep Peter upright isn’t exactly a trivial task.

By some miracle, she only has to put down one stray Walker on their way up to their safe haven, a straggler from their earlier encounter — and christ, thank fuck they’d cleared this place earlier.

❝ Come on — come on, here. ❞ Olivia’s not taking any of his bullshit refusals, already helping him onto one of the blankets she’d left behind; it’s not like her to leave supplies, but seeing the person she’s been traveling with getting grabbed like that?

Yeah, sue her, but the blanket hadn’t been a priority. 

❝ You scared the shit out of me. ❞ It feels safer now to speak, though her trembling fingers give away some of her anxiety. ❝ Pete…what exactly just happened back there? You asked where ‘he’ was. Who is he? ❞

What is he?

As her question hangs, Olivia makes quick work of assessing some of his injuries, the fire from earlier providing some degree of warmth as she begins to rifle through her backpack.

❝ You don’t have to answer now. It’s…fuck, you’re probably in pain, so...here. Go through my bag and take what you need, okay? Painkillers, water, applesauce…whatever you want. You can have it. ❞

The bag is passed to him then, firmly pressed into his hands and held there until it's finally accepted; she can always gather more supplies, but there won't be a way to replace him.

                        You’re getting soft, Fulbright.

❝ I’m…uh. I’m sorry. About earlier. I don’t…I don’t know why I was so mad. Still don’t. And it all just kind of came pouring out. ❞

This has never been her area of expertise; for as long as Olivia has been alive, pretending to be okay — and, whenever possible, not admitting fault — were rules of her well-traveled, shitty road.

Survival has never favored softies.

So what the fuck are you doing then, Liv?

           the last thing he remembers is soul-bending terror.

           uh-oh, peter! bad decision!

           that seems to be the only kind of decision he's made tonight. from arguing with olivia to deciding to go off on his own in the dark of night, propelled by some self-serving anger that he still can't make sense of ( he's never so clumsy, nor so driven by his emotions ), he's wound himself up in the deepest shit he's been in in a long while.

           "ugh... ugh..." it feels as if he's fighting with the void as he struggles to open his eyes. immediately, peter raises a weak hand to his forehead, the pounding there bad enough to provoke a groan. he can make out a blurry figure above him but can't, for the meantime, discern them.

           a deadhead, probably. i'm fucked...

           but the dead don't speak, and after hearing his name a few times, it becomes impossible to ignore. with great effort, peter forces his eyes open again, squinting against the blinding light of a nearby fire. it's big, its flames reaching towards the sky, its fumes thick and grey. peter's head rolls against the dirt before a face— olivia's face— reveals itself to him.

           "olivia...?" he blinks slowly, groggily, as if stirring from hibernation before winter has passed. fatigued. "wh... where is he...?"

           paimon. he was here. he remembers now. the demon revealed himself shortly after amon lost all sense of control and began to choke him to death, rising from the shadows like an ashen phoenix— and by god had he been angry. in fact, seeing him bare his razor teeth like that had made him very aware of the fact that he'd never seen the demon in any other state than poorly restrained mania. the moment his wings had unfurled from his back, eyes sprouting all over his form like ugly garden weeds, even peter— the one attached to this creature through ritual, even if his body was not yet his home— had been dizzy with a renewed sense of terror. it had been a terrible time to realise that he truly didn't know that much about the entity at all; had sparked hopelessness like he'd never experienced before save for the night of the accident. as amon had had his soul forcibly torn from his body, piece by piece, as if it was clinging to its rightful vessel, peter had attempted to retreat.

           no such luck. just as asking olivia about the creature will reap. she can't know.

           slowly, peter pushes himself up into a sitting position, forcing his blurred vision straight. regardless of the shape he's in ( and it's pretty awful, all things considered ), he has no choice but to get to his feet and make some sort of progress. if he stays here anchored to the mud for much longer, he's going to find himself the dead's next meal.

           "i can walk," he says through a wheeze, pushing himself to his feet despite her hand looking mighty inviting to his exhausted body. he has to do it himself; he most definitely should not be letting himself grow accustomed to the notion of someone being there to pick him up should he need it. the second he becomes taken by the idea, he's as good as dead. "i can... i can walk—"

           just about. very slowly. nevertheless, peter drags himself away from the noise with olivia in tow. as they hobble their way through the forest and back onto the road, peter realises he's counting things as he passes. rocks. trees. blood spatters. anything not to focus on how much his body aches..

           "where're we gonna go...?" he rasps, and all at once does his throat begin to hurt. it isn't just the inside of it feeling scratchy and raw from a late night of wailing at the top of his lungs. it's the feeling of phantom fingers locked tight around his jugular. superhuman strength pinning him to the floor via his adam's apple alone. "...back to the roof. you were right— it was safe. i need to—zleep... just need'a 'leep..."