#completely ditched it halfway through but forced myself to complete it

[sourtoasterstrudel]

Obligatory gravity falls post because I too had my gravity falls hyperfixation resurrected by book of bill’s release

I’m not super proud of this it took a lot out of me to work on and I kinda tapped out halfway through but despite that I’ll post it because I haven’t shared stuff in awhile

I have a compilation post of stuff I’ve been working on so that’ll probably get shared soon too

[softholand]

pot valiant - t.h

pairing: bartender!tom x reader

summary: pot-valiant, definition; bold or courageous under the influence of alcoholic drink

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, dom!tom

words: 4.3k

a/n: i did it!!! bartender!tom was always present in my mind and after that picture (thanks paddy!!) i couldn’t help myself ;))) i hope you guys like this and please let me know what you think <3 enjoy!!

Two weeks, three days, 5 hours, and 22 seconds. That was the time your best friend Briana gave you to mourn your last failed relationship. Once that time had passed, she broke into your house, made you take a much necessary shower, forcing you to shave and wash your hair, while she took care of the mess that was your house. Plastic food containers and cans of beer and Coca-Cola littered both the kitchen and the living room floor, making the house smell like a garbage can.

“Glad to see you’re still alive!” Briana cheered after you got out of the shower, wearing your fluffy robe. “I am but barely. Wow, what did you do to my house?” You asked, being met with a completely different scenario from the one you left.

“I just put out the trash, y/n! Something you should have done before.” Briana scolded you, making you roll your eyes. “Should have waited and put me out too, since I feel like trash!” You groaned, flopping down on your sofa.

“Hey, no, no, no! Get up, y/n! We’re going out!” Your best friend announced, before trying to make you stand. “Noooo, please, Bri! I’ll do anything you want, but that!” You pleaded, but it was of no use. “I don’t wanna hear it, y/n! I didn’t come here to clean your house, I came to take you out of here and that’s what I’m gonna do.” Briana stated, taking your hands.

“Bri, I love you, but please let me stay just a little longer, I’m not ready for the outside world yet.” You groaned, trying your best to convince your best friend. “y/n, I love you too, that’s why I’m here! I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore! Yeah, what Tyler did to you was fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop living your life because of it.” Briana exclaimed.

“I know, Bri! I know! It’s just… hard for me to wrap my head around the fact he ditched me after all this time and that I’m single now.” You sighed, starting to feel emotional. At that, Briana pulled you closer and wrapped her arms around you, engulfing you in one of her best hugs. “I’m sorry, y/n! I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” Bri apologized, making you chuckle through your tears. “It’s okay, Bri! It’s not your fault, really. I’m just… a mess!” You laughed, drying your face with the robe sleeves.

“One drink. We get one drink and if you still don’t wanna stay after that, we leave. I promise!” Your friend offered, with hopeful eyes. “Fine! One drink!” You sighed, to which she squealed. “Yes! Thank you, y/n! You’re not gonna regret it! I’ve found this new club, it opened just a couple of weeks ago. You’re gonna love it!” She grinned. “Now, go put on your best outfit, we’re going out!” Briana squealed, making you laugh at her excitement.

About an hour later and after a whole lot of makeup and trying on clothes, Briana finally decided you were done with what she called: a Cinderella transformation. Of course, you laughed at her choice of words, and to irritate your friend, even more, you asked if you also should be back at midnight. She gave you the middle finger, before giving up and joining you in laughter.

After a quick cab ride, that could be done by feet, not with the heels you two were wearing though, you and Briana were at the new club she talked about. Once inside, you had to admit your best friend was right. The place looked like a mix of everything you enjoyed, the walls were coated in a beautiful shade of red, while the lounge area was filled with dark green sofas. Different from the other places you had been to, the bar on this one was positioned right in the middle, with bar stools in that same dark green velvet texture, rounding the space. The dim light that filled the space gave a mysterious/sensual vibe, something you were also a fan of.

Briana immediately dragged you to the bar, waiting patiently for one of the many bartenders. While she made her request, you took the time to scan the place, noting some artsy bits that complemented the space. “What can I get you?” A smooth masculine voice took you out of your daze, making you avert your attention to him. Right in front of you, a gorgeous boy with hazel eyes and chocolatey brown curls grinned at you, waiting for your answer. What was even the question?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” You apologized, making his smile grow even more. “I asked what can I get you tonight, darling?” He asked, making you smile with the nickname. “Oh, uh… a daiquiri, please!” You finally said, not being able to avert his gaze. “Good choice! I’ll be right back, girls!” He smirked, before going to the enormous wall of beverages behind him.

Once he was out of earshot, Briana lightly kicked your bare leg, getting your attention. “Isn’t he hot?” She mouthed, making you roll your eyes. “Really, Bri? Already?” Shaking your head, you went back to looking at your surroundings. “Oh, c’mon y/n! A woman has to eat!” Briana joked, making you both burst out laughing.

Seconds later, hot guy was back, this time with two cocktail shakers in his hands. Like every bartender in the world, he made his presentation while pouring the ingredients into the containers, making sure to really flex his arms while shaking it. Not that you noticed.

With two glasses in front of you, he poured the drinks in, doing the finishing touches before serving them to you. “Two pretty drinks for two pretty ladies, enjoy!” He smirked, before going back to his business. “Oh God, he only gets better!” Briana jokingly fanned herself, making you laugh. “He’s just doing his job, Bri! How many times do you think he used that one?” You asked your friend, who rolled her eyes at you. “You’re no fun!” She groaned, putting her tongue out.

Briana was only halfway through her Cosmopolitan when one of her favorite songs started to play. She made everything in her power to make you go with her but you denied her offer, stating you were fine watching her from the bar. With her drink in her hands, she made her way into the dance floor, purposely shaking her booty at you, which made you laugh and almost choke on your barely touched drink.

“Not into dancing?” The same voice from minutes ago asked, startling you. “Oh, no! Not today, at least!” You shrugged, offering him a smile. “So, what brought you and your friend here? I’m Tom, by the way!” He asked, cleaning the surface in front of him, making the watch he wore catch the fluorescent lights of the club. “y/n! And to be honest, she dragged me here.” You told him, giving into their usual small talks. “Wanna talk about it? I’m a pretty damn good listener!” He offered you with a smile.

You took a deep breath, asking yourself if it was really a good idea to share a part of your life with a stranger, and since you weren’t going to step foot on the dance floor, you thought this was the next most reasonable thing to do. Right? “Well, I was into a two-year relationship that ended a couple of weeks ago, and apparently staying inside your house, eating takeout food, and crying over stupid romantic movies is not a very healthy thing to do, so today she went to my house and here I am.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

Once you looked at Tom, he gave you a pitiful look, to which you shrugged. “That’s not even the worst part though.” You said, the alcohol in your system already making the choices for you. “Instead of calling me or sending me a text asking to talk, you know, like a normal person, he invited me to his parents’ tenth-anniversary party and broke up with me in front of his whole family, claiming I wasn’t what he wanted in a relationship anymore.” With a raise of your glass, you finished your sad story, downing the rest of your daiquiri.

“Damn, what a dick!” Tom breathed after a couple of seconds, making you chuckle. “Oh, well! Cheers to single life, I guess…” You said, raising your now empty glass. “Need a refill?” He asked, pointing to the glass on your hands. “Please!” You huffed, before thanking him. “What will it be now?” Tom smirked, seeing your thinky face. “I don’t know, something strong.” He nodded, giving you two thumbs-ups, before going back to the wall to collect the ingredients.

Once the song ended, Briana came back to you and you two chatted until Tom came back with your drink, waiting for your approval. “It’s good! I like it! Thanks, Tom!” You smiled, locking eyes with him. “Do you want a refill too, darling?” He asked Briana, to which she said a beer would be fine. Once he was off, you felt your best friend's eyes burning a hole in your skull. “What?” You asked, impatiently. “We’re already on a name basis then?” Briana smirked, making you roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I mean, he introduced himself, what did you want me to do?” You snapped and that was enough to her smirk double in size. “Okay, girl! You sure you don’t want to go home then?” She asked you for what felt like the fifth time. “Yes, Bri! I’m good! I promise!” You assured your best friend before she once again was off to the dance floor.

You quietly took sips of your new strawberry drink, watching from afar as your friend seemed to get her eyes on a specific guy for the night. She gave you a wink, making you roll your eyes at her antics. “She seems to be enjoying herself.” You heard Tom’s voice, turning the barstool to find him looking at you. “Yeah, she always does!” You agreed, taking another sip of your drink. “So, you’re from here?” He asked, sounding interested. “Yeah, I’m a local! You?” You said, raising your brows. “Same!” He smiled, going right to the next question.

The conversation kept going for most of the night, Tom attended some clients, while you took sips of your drinks, and once he was free, he was right back at you with another round of questions. Seeing as Briana wasn’t by your side anymore, you welcomed his company, glad at least this way you wouldn’t be left alone. “Museologist? I’ve never heard that before!” He grinned, making you chuckle. “Yeah, it’s not very common. Basically what I do is investigate and preserve material cultural stuff, like paintings, sculptures or constructions and immaterial, such as traditions and folklore.” You answered and Tom couldn’t help but find adorable the way your eyes lit up while you talked.

Briana came back after a couple more songs, sitting by your side and asking Tom another beer. “So, found your prey?” You joked, making her laugh. “Actually, I did! See that blonde? With the samurai bun?” She pointed and you nodded once your eyes landed on him. “Nice, Bri!” You complemented, giving her a playful high five. “Right? And he’s so sweet and smart and funny! He even asked me if I wanted to go to his house.” She blurted, seemingly disappointed. “And?” You asked, not getting why she reacted that way. “Oh, no! I’m not leaving you. I dragged you here so I’m taking you home.” Briana exclaimed, to which you rolled your eyes. “Bri, I’m totally able to call a cab and go home by myself. I’m fine, I promise! You can go with Mr. Samurai bun if you want.” You assured her, seeing her eyes widen. “No, y/n/n! I promised you!” She protested, making you groan. “I’m fine, Bri! Go with him!” Once again, you insisted. “Are you sure?” She asked and you had to laugh at her. “I’m not a child, Bri! Now go, he’s not going to wait all night!” You teased, getting a hug and a kiss on the cheek from your friend before she was off.

“Lost your friend?” Tom asked once he was back from his bartender duties. “Yeah, it's just me now and I think I’ll actually call it a night and go home.” You told him, making him frown. “Hey, not to sound creepy or anything but are you going by yourself? Because that’s not very safe and my shift ends in like ten minutes. If you want, I can accompany you.” With hopeful eyes, the boy in front of you smiled, making your heart flutter just a tiny bit. You thought about leaving a stranger accompanied you home, you really did, but something in your gut told you it was fine, Tom was a good guy and would never do anything to harm you. So, you went with it. “Yeah, that would be great, actually.” You smiled and ten minutes later, you were both leaving the club, at 3:30 in the morning.

Tom offered to call a cab but seeing as your house was only a few minutes away, you asked if it was okay for him that you guys walked. He agreed and with the moon illuminating your steps, the pair of you made your way into the almost silent streets. You guys kept talking and occasionally your hands would brush on one another, which caused little butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Once in front of your apartment building, you stopped, having no idea what to do next, since you were in a relationship for the last two years.

“It was nice meeting and talking to you, Tom!” You said, opting for the easiest way out. “Yeah, the feeling is mutual, y/n!” He answered, stuffing both of his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for… listening.” You mumbled, making him chuckle. “Of course! Whenever you need!” He smiled, not moving a muscle. “I’ll see you around, then. Bye!” With a little wave of your hand, you made your way to the door, while Tom watched you from his place. “Sure! Bye, y/n!” He exclaimed, making you smile, finally entering the building.

That’s how you found yourself going back to that same club every Friday, getting a couple of drinks while talking to Tom, then being escorted home by him. You had been doing this for almost a month now and Briana was starting to get suspicious. It was Friday again and she had just called you while you finished getting ready. “So, any plans for tonight?” She asked, already predicting your answer. “Not really, just gonna get some drinks and head home.” You said while clasping your black sandals. “Tom’s gonna bring you home again?” You sighed, already knowing where this conversation was heading. “I don’t know, Bri! If he wants to.” You looked in the mirror for the last time, before taking your bag and heading out. Once Briana finally hung up, you threw your phone into your purse, getting into the cab.

The routine was the same, you got in, spotted Tom, sat in one of the many barstools, and waited for him to approach you. “What can I get this beautiful lady today?” He joked, a smile wide on his face. Today he was wearing a simple black shirt, tight around his muscles, the watch still sat proudly on his wrist, and his curls were a little bit messier than most days. “You know you don’t have to waste your pickup lines with me, Tom.” You smiled, watching his reaction. “Okay then, what can I get this grumpy old lady today?” He smirked, making you chuckle. “A Sex On The Beach, please?!” You grinned and after a quick wink, he was off.

The rest of the night passed like magic, you didn’t even see the time pass and once you took a look at your phone, you saw that it was almost time for Tom’s shift to end, which meant it was time to head home. The chilly London air hit as soon as you stepped out of the club, making you shiver, seeing as you were only in a dress. Like the gentleman he was, Tom took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, and although you protested, saying he was going to catch a cold, he assured you he was fine with his shirt.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when the words “Do you wanna come inside?” came out of your mouth but now was definitely too late to take them back. “Oh, yeah! Sure!” Tom agreed, making you smile. The short lift ride was awkward and once you walked into your apartment, the feeling only grew. Tom stayed pretty close to the door, with both of his hands in his pockets, while you put your purse away and turned on the lights. “Welcome and sorry for the mess.” You said, going back to the living room. Tom just smiled, before saying, “You call this messy? You should see my house!” You both laughed and the tension was back in the air. “Do you want anything? Water, wine, beer?” You offered, taking off your shoes and his jacket, putting the both away. “Water would be good.” He said and you quickly made your way to the kitchen, shaking your head to try and get rid of some very intrusive thoughts.

“Thanks!” He smiled, taking the glass from your hands, while your eyes kept focused on his arm and the prominent veins and the way his shirt was almost being ripped by his bicep. “y/n? You here?” Tom’s voice brought you back, making your face grow hot with the knowledge you got caught. “Yes, sorry!” You apologized, watching as his smirk grew in size. He placed the cup on the small table by your door, before taking a couple of steps closer. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he put his hands on your hips, leaning the smallest bit in, not taking that stupid smirk off of his face.

His smell was intoxicating, the mixture of alcohol and mint was definitely making your mind clouded. “Tom…” You whispered once he was only centimeters away from you. “What is it, y/n?” He asked, looking between your eyes and your lips. “Kiss me!” You almost pleaded, his smirk the last thing you saw before his lips were crashing into yours. The feeling was new, you hadn’t kissed anyone since your ex-boyfriend and you couldn’t help but compare them. Tom’s was so much better though, his lips could be thin but they held so much power on them, his mouth worked like magic against yours, and before you knew he was pulling away, completely breathless. The pause didn’t last long though, he looked so good with his lips plumped, the tiniest of the smirks still proudly on them, you just couldn’t help yourself and launched yourself at him.

You backed him against the wall, moaning when you felt his tongue entering your mouth. Tom placed both of his hands on your ass, squeezing it before asking, “Bedroom?” Without breaking the kiss, you pointed in the direction of your room and before you knew it, he was carrying you in his arms. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his torso, before going back to his lips. He placed you on the bed, making a trail of kisses from your neck, all the way to your stomach. Once he positioned himself between your tights, he looked at you with his bright brown eyes, asking if he could take your dress off. You nodded and after a little bit of a struggle, he took the thin material out of your body, leaving you in just a pair of white underwear. “You’re so beautiful!” He whispered, going back to your lips and attacking them with kisses. “Tom, please…” You moaned, growing even more eager to feel him. “What do you want, darling?” He smirked, loving seeing you like that. “You, I want you!” With a shake on your voice, you pleaded and he finally took the clue and went to work.

After another confirmation from you, he discarded your panties, tracing his fingers through your now soaked folds. “You look amazing, y/n!” Tom breathed before going straight to your core. You let out a moan as soon as his lips touched you, making your whole body shake with pleasure. “And tastes amazing too!” He purred, focusing on his task. Your moans only grew louder when he pushed two of his slender fingers on your heat. “Fuck, Tom! Feels so good!” You blurted, not being able to control yourself. “That’s it, baby! I can feel your walls clenching around my fingers. Tell me how much do you wanna cum.” Tom whispered, making you clench even more, only by his words. “Wanna cum, Tom! Please…” You were never this talkative in bed and not once has a guy been this dominant with you but you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying it. “Cum for me, baby! Wanna hear you scream my name!” He mumbled and finally lost control. Your whole body shook with pleasure and you had to contain yourself from closing your thighs around Tom’s head.

Once you came back from your high, you opened your eyes to find Tom already looking at you, with some of your wetness still glistening on his chin. “You alright?” He asked, concern coating his words. “Yeah!” You smiled, before going back to his lips. With a quick move, you straddled him, helping him take off his shirt, letting his chest perfectly exposed for you. You lowered yourself, leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, each one of his abs, and finally, his perfectly sculpted v line. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, I’ll be perfectly fine by just giving...” You interrupted his mumbling by attaching your lips to his, hoping it would be his answer.

With the rest of his clothes discarded, you couldn’t help but admire his body. He was perfect. Sculpted by the gods, even. After wetting your hands, you took his cock, pumping a few times before attaching your lips to it. You twirled your tongue, tasting his precum, feeling him grow harder and harder on your hands. “Holy shit, you feel so good, y/n!” His words of encouragement were enough for you to start moving your head up and down, taking his member into your mouth inch by inch, until he was bucking his hips. “Fuck! You’re bloody amazing, darling!” He praised, while making direct eye contact with you, “But if you want more, you better stop before I coat your throat with my cum.” You had to admit, his dirty talk was doing something to you.

Releasing his cock with a loud pop, you climbed on top of him, kissing his lips. “Do you have a condom?” He asked between kisses. “Bedside table, first draw.” You answered and after a loud smack on your ass, you got off of him, both of you wearing playful smiles on your faces. Tom opened the foil package and rolled the material into his member, positioning himself at your entrance. “You sure you wanna do this?” He asked, making sure you wanted this as much as he did. “Yes, Tom! I want you to fuck me!” You said, kissing his lips.

With both of his hands on your hips and a huge smirk on his face, he pushed himself into you, making you moan. It took you a few seconds to get used to him and once you nodded, Tom started to move, bringing another level of pleasure to your body. “Fuck! You’re so tight around me, y/n!” He whispered, biting your earlobe. “Tom, fuck me harder!” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him. That seemed to take Tom by surprise but he was quick to obey your wish, thrusting harder and harder into your soaking wet core. “You look so beautiful like that, all sweaty, begging me for more!” He kept praising you, feeling how much you liked when he did.

With both of his arms by your head, he caged you, tattooing your face with kisses. “Feel so good, Tom! Please, make me cum!” You mumbled, by now barely able to form sentences. Tom was quick to obey and once his fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles in it, you were gone. Toes curling, you arched your back, getting a handful of the mattress in one hand while the other scratched Tom’s back. “Fuck, y/n!” With a final thrust of his hips, Tom reached his high, moaning your name like it was the most beautiful prayer.

He collapsed on top of you, leaving a long kiss on your lips, before getting up and tossing the condom on the trash. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself up, seeing as you were too tired to take a shower, and asked him if he wanted that too. He agreed and once you were decent enough, you put on clean panties and his discarded shirt, asking him to join you on the bed. Of course, he accepted, he wasn’t planning to go anywhere either so, after putting his boxers back on, he climbed on the bed with you.

You quickly doze off but right before you did, you admitted to yourself that, like most of the time, Briana was right, and going to that new club wasn’t a bad idea after all.

tagging: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @duskholland @screamholland @missnxthingg @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @peeterparkr @veryholland @spideyspeaches-deactivated20221 @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @rebekkah4766 @hopelessromm @pensivepeter @geminiparkers @mrs-hollandstan @hollandcreep @uglypastels

[storiesforallfandoms]

cliche ~ yungblud

word count: 2440

request?: yes!

chieftreepandagarden “Can I please get a yungblud x female reader. The reader is Dom child best friend who is a YouTuber and revealing on her channel that she is dating dom”

description: while doing a q&a on her channel, she decides to tell the cliched story of her and her childhood best friend falling in love

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

“Next question is one that I get a lot,” I read from my phone. “How did you meet Dom?”

I smiled to myself as I remembered the very first day I had met my best friend.

My mum had dragged me to the new neighbours house to wecolme them to the neighbourhood. She said we should be neighbourly, that everyone else had gone to welcome them. I didn’t understand why what everyone else did had to affect what I had to do, but I was only 6. It wasn’t like I could just stay home.

A woman around mum’s age answered the door after mum knocked. She smiled at the two of us, but gave me a wider smile that I always got because I was a “cute child”.

“Hello there,” she said, directing a high pitched voice that people usually use when talking to young children in my direction.

“Hi,” I said. My mum nudged me due to my bored tone.

“I’m (Y/M/N), and this is my daughter, (Y/N),” she said. “We wanted to come welcome you to the neighbourhood.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest?” the still unnamed woman said, kneeling down to smile at me. “I have a little boy that’s about your age. If you and your mummy would like to come in you could play with him for a bit.”

The mention of another kid my age excited me more, and I turned to look at my mum, hopefully. She smiled and nodded, “Of course, we’d love to come in.”

I excitedly followed our new neighbour to her backyard, where a boy roughly my age was sat in the grass playing with some toys. I bounded out of the door and sat next to him, way too excited to play with a kid I didn’t even know yet.

“Who are you?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“I’m (Y/N), I’m your new neighbour. Your mum said I could come play with you!”

This was a good enough explanation, as he smiled back and said, “Okay! I’m Dom!”

And with that, we began playing with his toys.

“Kids are way too trusting,” I said as I finished the story. “I was really okay with running into this stranger’s house at the age of 6 because I was told that there was another kid there, and Dom was just okay with a random 6 year old girl sitting next to him and playing with his toys! I tell you, if we had more common sense we never would’ve met. It’s probably a good thing that neither of us have ever had common sense, or else we wouldn’t have stayed such good friends.”

I looked back down at my phone before looking up at the camera again. “You know, there are so many questions about Dom and our friendship, so why don’t I just tell the story of the second most asked question: have we ever had a crush on one another? The simple answer: yes! Of course we have! We’ve been best friends for almost 20 years now, that included going through that awkward adolescent phase where all you wanna do is kiss or fuck anything that walks. Doesn’t help that our best friends kept trying to force us together in high school, of course.”

“There is no way you feel absolutely nothing for, Dom, or you never have felt anything,” Krista said as I closed my locker door.

“He’s basically my brother, Kris, that’s gross!” I responded, hoping neither of the girls noticed the blush on my face.

“You keep saying that, but brothers and sisters don’t act the way you two do,” Genevieve told me. “You’re always being all touchy feely with one another, and you always tease one another in a flirty way.”

“I tease him because he’s an idiot,” I retorted. “I don’t know why you two want us together so bad. He’s my best friend, nothing more and nothing less.”

“Just think of how cute you guys would be together!” Krista said. “You’d be the power couple of the group!”

I rolled my eyes at her and promptly elbowed both of them upon seeing Dom and his friends approaching us. Genevieve and Krista giggled as the three boys met us halfway.

“Hey,” Dom said, smiling his bright smile directly towards me. I felt my heart race with excitement, but I tried my best not to let it show.

“Hey,” I responded, smiling back at him. Krista nudged me slightly, but I shot her a quick glare as she did.

“We’ve finally convinced Dom to come to watch the football game with us tonight,” his friend, Harry said. “Will you ladies be joining us?”

I looked between Genevieve and Krista, but they were already looking back at me expectantly. I shrugged. “I guess...maybe. I do have a lot of homework to do.”

“The game will be over by, like, 8 at the latest, you can pull an all nighter,” Harry insisted.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to go. Homework was the last thing I wanted to be doing with my night, especially when my grades were doing well alright, and our teachers liked me too much to ever fail me. If my homework was late they’d probably just give me some sort of late penalty.

“Alright,” I said with a shrug. “I’m down. What about you guys?”

Genevieve and Krista were already nodding before my words were completely out.

“Sweet,” Dom’s other friend, Josh, said. “The game starts around 6, so meet at the bleachers around 5 so we can get a good seat?”

We all agreed and went our own ways as the warning bell rang.

~~~~~~

I was the first to show up to the game at 5 on the dot. I was known for my punctuality in the group.

I was wearing a hoodie with a coat over it, and had my matching beanie and gloves on. It was only late September, but the winter cold was already creeping in. I was so cold that I was starting to regret choosing sitting outside and watching a football game over the warmth of my room, even if it meant I had to do homework for that warmth.

I kept checking my phone, waiting for a text from one of the girls, or even from Dom, to say they were almost here. As time ticked away, I thought about just ditching the whole thing. It was way too cold to just be standing around outside.

Finally, I saw Dom’s familiar lanky stature approach. I smiled when I saw him, and his smile mirrored mine when his eyes rested on me.

“Hey,” he said. “Are the girls here yet?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven’t heard from them yet either. You hear from the guys.”

“Josh said his mom is making him babysit his little sister, and Harry says he was grounded for bad grades,” Dom responded. “So...just us I guess?”

I nodded. “Yeah...just us.”

I didn’t know why I was having trouble trying to talk to Dom. We had been best friends since we were six years old, we talked all the time. But, in recent years, it had always been through text - where it’s easier to say just about anything - or our friends were with us. I hadn’t talked to Dom one-on-one, face to face, in at least a year.

“Well...we should go find a place to sit I guess,” Dom said. Unable to find my voice, I just lamely nodded.

The first half of the game was spent in silence, besides cheering every time our school managed to get a goal. I couldn’t help but check my phone a few times, hoping one of the girls was going to text me to say they were running late. Of course, that didn’t happen.

“I feel like we haven’t hung out just the two of us in a while,” Dom finally spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence. “And I feel bad about that. I hope you don’t think I’m replacing you with the boys or anything.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at this. “No, of course I know that’s not your intent. You could never replace me anyways, I’m one of a kind after all.”

The two of us laughed together, and it felt like the awkward weight on my shoulders was lifted.

“We just ended up in a friend group instead of just a duo,” I continued. “Which I think is fine. I’m glad you have Harry and Josh, and I’m glad they get along with Kris and Gen so well. It just resulted in us hanging out as a group more than just as the two of us. It was bound to happen.”

“I still feel bad about it,” Dom said. “And, as shitty as it is to say, I’m glad it ended up just being the two of us tonight. I feel like this was long overdue.”

I smiled, grateful for this alone time with Dom, too.

I shivered as another gust of cold air passed over us. Dom looked at me, concerned. “You cold?”

I nodded. “Are you not?”

“Well...yeah, I am. Not as cold, apparently.” He opened his arms to me and gestured for me to lean into him. “Come on, bring it in.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I leaned into his embrace. I took in the familiar scent of his cologne, something I had loved to smell for years. Being in his arms was so warm, but still I found myself shivering, this time mainly from nerves.

I spent the rest of the game in Dom’s arms, only once leaving when one of our football players kicked the ball into the opposite team’s neck and got us our winning goal. When the game ended, Dom and I walked together to my car, taking our time as we did so.

“I’m glad you came out tonight,” Dom said. “Mainly so I wasn’t stood up like a complete loser.”

I giggled. “I’m glad I came out, too. Now, it’s back to homework hell for me.”

Dom groaned. “Yeah, I get that. I gotta go finish a paper for English, too.”

“Oh, I finished mine last night! Text me if you need any help, I can do my best to give you the answers without flat out telling you what to write.”

Dom smiled. “I’d love that, thanks (Y/N).”

There was another silence between us a we arrived to my car. Dom was standing so close to me that I could feel his warmth still. I turned to face him and came to find he was mere inches away from me. If I wanted to (and boy, did I ever want to), I could’ve leaned forward and kissed him. I could’ve figured out right there in that moment if the feelings I had for Dom were reciprocated.

But of course, I didn’t. I stepped away from him before I did something I regretted, although my heart was thudding so hard against my chest that it was making my vision blurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

I watched him walk away to his car, mentally kicking myself for not making the move in that moment.

“You’d be right to call me an idiot because of that,” I told the camera. “To this day, my biggest regret was not telling Dom in that moment how I felt about him. A few years after that is when Dom went off and started making music and became Yungblud. We kept in touch, but he was always touring and travelling, so it wasn’t the same. Then, he started dating Halsey, and you can imagine how I felt about that. Luckily, this past year we got back in touch, as you all know because he’s been heavily present in my videos lately.

“How does this story end, I can hear you asking. Did you ever tell Dom? Yeah, I did, right after he kissed me and told me he had liked me ever since we were kids. He really has be beat there since I thought he was gross and had cooties when we were kids. And this is where the story becomes terribly cliched, because now I’m dating my childhood best friend. Have been for...almost a year now, actually. I’m quite proud of myself for being able to keep it a secret that long. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.”

I continued filming my Q&A video as if I hadn’t just dropped the biggest bomb on my viewers, knowing how they’d react once the video went live.

I finished filming and sat back on the couch, turned on my favourite show on Netflix, and began editing the video. I was hoping to have it up by the next day, then I’d take the weekend off to watch the reactions roll in.

As I sat back to edit, the door to my apartment opened and Dom walked in. He smiled at me and held up a bag of take out he had picked up. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ve been filming for a solid two hours, of course I haven’t eaten,” I laughed, extending my hand to the take out bag. “Give.”

“Learn some manners!” he said as he approached me. I playfully rolled my eyes as he leaned his head down towards mine and gave him a quick kiss before pulling the bag from his hands. “Hey!”

I giggled as he tried to get it back from me, but I had already opened the bag and stuffed a handful of fries into my mouth.

“At least let me get us some plates,” he said, kissing my forehead before going to my kitchen.

“I filmed that video today,” I called after him, after swallowing the mouthful of food. “The Q&A one where I revealed we’re together. I’m hoping to have it up by tomorrow.”

“The internet is going to implode.”

“I know, but I’d like for them to know now.” He joined me on the couch again, passing me my plate. “I like you too much to keep you a secret any longer.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he said, kissing my cheek again. “Show me the video when it’s done editing, I want to be the first person who knows we’re dating.”

I laughed as I playfully pushed him. I rested my head on his shoulder, leaning into him the way I had those years before at the football game, as I continued to edit the video.

[dipperdesperado]

I WROTE a Movie in 33 Days...

Imagine a coming-of-age story set in a world inspired by LA Noire, Metropolis, and Bioshock. I decided to challenge myself, and write a movie in a month, with some decently heavy worldbuilding elements. It’ll be linked at the end if you’re interested in reading it. Just know, a month may sound like a decent amount of time to some, but to the rest of y’all, you know it’s not a ton of time. If you don’t mind rough edges, you might find the script enjoyable. I want to go through my writing process, talk about the triumphs and hurdles, and how, if you’re a complete nutjob, you can try out this challenge for yourself. This is how I wrote a feature film in a month.

Story Planning

So, for the first few days, I focused on creating and figuring out what the story would be. Some people might call this finding the story. I love Notion and used that as my home base for everything except the script.

I knew I wanted to do something set in a time period set in the early 20th century. I remembered that I wrote a story during that era in early 2021 for a fiction writing class. I fished it out and it was…interesting. I did like some of the tonal characteristics, so that informed the current piece.

With my ideas in tow, I decided to do some visual research inspiration. Something that was really appealing to me was the aesthetic of Decopunk, which is described as “Dieselpunk but shiny.” I love the look of things like Metropolis, The Great Gatsby, and of course Bioshock, so I wanted to evoke some of that. I made a Pinterest board with a lot of the different pieces that I gathered for visual inspiration, to inform what I wanted the look and feel to be.

a screenshot from my Pinterest board

At this point, I started to feel really good about what I was working with and was excited with the story’s potential. I knew that within this world, I wanted to have a young adult who would have to deal with being the heir of his family on the cusp of a change, due to some external force, but as a result of an internal force. Essentially an “adapt or die” kind of thing. Here’s the logline I came up with at that point: “Keni Clementine, the heir to his family, has to decide whether or not he will embrace modernity when the new world starts to envelop his livelihood. To protect his family, will he cast aside the things he’s known?”

One thing I wish I would’ve touched on more in the actual script that I had an idea for was this concept of how time and progress moves and the difficulties that it can present to people. That friction of the old age versus the new is there, but I think that it was something that could’ve been more front facing.

Okay. At this point, we’re halfway through the first week, and I’m ready to write my main beats. For this, I used a structure that roughly follows the Save the Cat format.

In the end, there were some changes to the script, but thinking of the main beats helped me have a decent feeling of direction to go in for what I was doing. I’ll give you the original overview.

The film starts with a shot in the car. Keni, the main character, is with his parents and his friend Laila, who is the daughter heir of a rival faction. They are on the way to the theater that Keni’s family owns. Once they get there and settle in, Keni’s mom explains a bit about the world, and most importantly that their influence through controlling the arts district is what gives them power. Then we show all of the different factions and hint at what their production focus is on. As the play goes on, Laila’s parent’s men start a fire under the stage, which obviously ruins everything, and leads Keni’s parents to want to fight Laila’s. Keni and Laila try to make a last-ditch effort to stop the conflict, and when they realize that they’re not going to be able to, they try to go around, stopping the other families from getting them involved. It ends with a giant battle royale between the families, and I imagine the parents dying. I still don’t exactly know what happens in this fight, as you’ll see in the final version.

Writing

At the start of the second week, I wrote a treatment-esque thing, where I took my beats from the last week, and then filled in the gaps, so that there was a scene-by-scene connection between the different parts. This goes more in-depth and has some changes to those initial beats. The treatment will also be at the end.

During the rest of this week (and the beginning of the following week), I wrote the actual script. Rather than tell you story content, since you have a decent idea at this point (hopefully), I’ll talk about my experiences writing it. Writing Act One was pretty easy. I felt like I had a pretty clear indication of the scenes and inciting incident, and the buildup into the moving forward. Act Two was really fun as well, as it was an opportunity to really spend a good chunk of time with the MCs. Act Three basically doesn’t exist, as the whole thing would be a giant fight, and I didn’t really know how I wanted it to look, and I was running out of time to write. I decided that I would fix it during the rewrite. I didn’t fix it during the rewrite.

Editing

There’s not fun stuff to note during this time, except you might notice that I said I wrote this in 33 days, but that doesn’t add up to the three weeks. That’s because before I edited, I took like 9 days off to just not think about the story consciously and look at it with fresh eyes. The most extensive reworking happened in the beginning, trying to make it less contrived. I tried to make sure that it was readable, and also worked towards the ending. There’s slightly more than was before but act three still kinda doesn’t exist. Oops. But hey, we did a lot, so I’ll mostly consider this challenge a success.

Postmortem

I kinda touched on this earlier, but I wanna go in more depth on how I feel about the project. I think that it was an interesting challenge to try and write something within a month, as that’s not a lot of time to write a full-fledged thing. It’s not peak fiction, but I’d say it’s also not the worst thing ever. Which is a win in my eyes. If you’re bonkers enough to subjugate yourself to this, one thing I would recommend is finding someone to do the challenge with, so they can read your work and give you feedback. You should probably do this after editing, since someone might think you’re nuts if they see your first draft.

If you’re interested in reading the full script, along with any of the other developmental materials, I’ll put the link below, and you’ll also find it in the description. if this was at all interesting, or if you have suggestions, let me know. Otherwise, thanks for taking time to read this long post, and get to creating!

Link to all the files

[songsformonkeys]

Conference Call (maxwell lord x reader)

summary: Maxwell fucks you while taking a conference call. There’s no plot here. None. Just stupid filth

word count: ~4100

rating: explicit

warnings: Slight soft!Dom Maxwell if that needs to come with a warning.

notes: Sooo...this happened. I don’t know how to feel about it... 

Ao3

Conference Call

”I want you to wear this,” Maxwell says and gestures towards a big white box on the table. The two of you are in his penthouse apartment. It's after midnight but neither of you have clocked out from work yet because you had been forced to schedule a conference call with a rivaling company in Europe and the different timezones are a pain in anyone's ass.

Maxwell isn't too happy about the arrangement but had agreed on the condition that the telephone meeting could be held in his home office. You had agreed, knowing which battles that were worth picking with Maxwell and realizing that this wasn't one of them.

You had showed up with plenty of time to spare before the call, hoping that you and Maxwell would have a chance to go over the Paris proposal once more. That had been twenty minutes ago and so far the only things that have happened are that Maxwell has insisted on having a drink, has quizzed you on next week’s meetings, and now has revealed that apparently there is a dress code for the evening.

”Maxwell... Mister Lord, may I remind you that it is a conference call and that the other participants won't actually be able to see us. I hardly think that a wardrobe change will be necessary,” you point out, a little annoyed at his unwillingness to focus on the task at hand.

Maxwell sets his drink down and stands up from the barstool where he's perched. He walks over to you and steps so close that you can smell his expensive cologne. The scent reminds you of other times when he's been this close and you briefly close your eyes.

”And may I remind you whose job it is to set the rules here. The outfit is for my benefit, not theirs, and I'm telling you that I want you to wear it.” There's no mistaking the order behind his words and you suddenly worry just what might be in that box.

”Am I making myself clear?” he continues and you nod.

”Crystal clear, Mister Lord,” you reply and he smirks.

”Good girl. Now go change and meet me in the office.”

You pick up the box and head to the guestroom down the hall.

As you set the box down on the bed and open it, you are immediately met by a vision of pale pink tulle and your eyebrows raise in surprise. You take the tulle garment out of the box and hold it up in front of you. It's a short, see-through, maribou robe, complete with the feather trimmings and everything. It's...angelic, for a lack of better word, and very much what you have come to learn that Maxwell appreciates.

You carefully set the gown down on the bed and return your attention to the box and the other things it contains. The next thing you pull out is a lace balconette bra in the same pink color as the gown, along with a pair of matching lace panties.

When you hold the panties up you notice there's an odd seam down the middle and... oh wait that's not a seam, but a slit. Your cheeks feel hot as you run your finger over the fabric, before setting them down and picking up the last thing that's in the box. It's another box and you can tell just from the design that it contains jewelry. When you open it you almost gasp. Resting on black velvet is an absolutely gorgeous diamond choker necklace. The symbolism of that doesn't escape you.

You look at the items on the bed and don't dare to wonder how much money Maxwell has spent on this ensemble. He is, for the most part, smart about what he spends his money on, but this isn't the first set of expensive lingerie that he's bought for you.

Worried about keeping him waiting for too long, you quickly slip out of your own clothes and into the ones Maxwell has provided for you, even though clothes might not be quite the right word for it.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror of the guestroom, and have to admit that you look good. The color suits you and you feel more at home in this than the black ones he'd bought for you last time.

You debate whether or not to leave the gown open or tied closed with the silk band around the middle. You settle for tying it closed, thinking that Maxwell will probably enjoy untying that for himself. Studying your face closely in the mirror, as you fit the necklace snugly around your neck, you come to the conclusion that the lipstick you've been wearing all day doesn't quite fit with the image and you grab some paper to wipe it off, leaving your lips bare but stained slightly pink.

You take a deep breath and adjust the diamond choker just a little, before you leave the guestroom and walk towards to Maxwell's home office. The apartment isn't cold but you still feel your skin tightening into little goosebumps.

Maxwell is bent over a file, reading, when you stop in the doorway. You know he knows your there by the way his hand twitches for just a fraction of a second before turning the page, but he still makes you wait for a few more seconds before looking up. He doesn't say anything as he eyes you up and down, and his face is impossible to read as always. Then he lifts his hand and beckons you over with a finger.

He pushes his chair back when you reach him and a pleased smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. The relief makes your shoulders relax slightly.

”They suit you. Do you like them?” he asks, pursing his lips to keep a smile in check. You nod

”Yes, Max-.” He raises an eyebrow at you. ”Yes, Mister Lord. They're beautiful. But...forgive me, I don't quite understand...”

”What don't you understand, sweetheart?” he asks, reaching out to smooth a hand over your hip, pulling you another step closer. He touches the silk band tied around your middle, grabbing the end of it and slowly pulling.

”We have scheduled a conference call with Paris, in 15 minutes. There isn't any time to...” you trail off as the bow is untied and the robe falls open, revealing the rest of your lingerie to Maxwell's hungry gaze.

”I am well aware,” he says, ”And as you are well aware, Perrault and the morons he calls his team are exceptionally boring so I'm gonna need some additional entertainment.” He lets his eyes rake over you in a way that makes it perfectly clear that you are that additional entertainment.

”Take a seat,” he orders. He smiles at you dangerously and leans back a little further in his leather seat. You feel your cheeks heat up as you sit down on his lap. Maxwell spins the chair around and pushes it closer to the desk.

”So, since you've been begging me for it all evening, let's go over what my stance on this is again, before they call,” he says, as if this is just another briefing in the office, as if you, through the slit in your panties, can't feel the fabric of his pants drag slightly against your folds every time he shifts.

”Well,” you begin, clearing your throat, and Maxwell reaches around you to hand you the file that you have meticulously put together for him over the past week. When you've accepted the file, Maxwell lets his hand rest halfway up your thigh, heavy and warm.

”Well, their offer is very generous, ” you start over, then stop, as his fingers inch a little higher.

”Go on,” he says, and you can practically hear the smirk in his tone. He pulls the pink tulle out of the way so he can caress the inside of your thigh softly. This isn't the first time Maxwell has touched you, but it is the first time he's wanted you to comment on the details of a business proposal as he does so. You try and collect yourself and speak with confidence.

”But I think we should be a little worried about their connection to St Petersburg. Their...uhm...their revenues have been in decline ever since la...last October.” You try to keep your voice steady but Maxwell has carefully pushed your thighs apart and is now dragging his index finger along the opening in your panties. The featherlight touch makes your voice hitch and your hands shake.

”So the offer is an attempt for them to save face?” Maxwell comments, thoughtfully, slipping his finger between your lips to stroke the hard nub of your clit. ”A way to get to sit at the table with the big boys.” You keen quietly.

”What was that?” Maxwell asks, rubbing your clit a bit faster.

”I mean, yes... I'm sure that's their reasoning behind...oh... behind the proposal. But you...ah... you have been looking for a way to expand to the European market and... and this...this could provide an opportunity for you as well.” Your thighs are quivering and you're gripping the file so hard that the edges dig into your palms. You want to grab Maxwell and pull him in for a kiss, but that's a mistake you've made before and aren't dumb enough to make again.

”So I'm considering it?” Maxwell says with curious hum. You have been over this several times together already and you have no doubt that he knows where he stands in all of this, but just wants to hear you say it out loud. His finger is still lazily stroking you and it feels so good. You allow yourself to lean back against him, just a little, and he lets you.

”You want them to sweeten the deal,” you tell him as you feel his lips barely graze your neck. Maxwell isn't much for kissing during foreplay so it takes you a little by surprise. You continue. ”Find a way to get them to... ditch St Petersburg and we'll reap all the benefits from acc...ah...accepting this proposal.”

”And we'll run St Petersburg into the ground,” he finishes for you, and you nod.

”That's an additional bonus,” you agree and Maxwell chuckles.

”Ruthless,” he says but his tone is appreciative.

”I thought you hired me to look out for the company, sir, not to be kind,” you can't help but comment, a little sarcastically.

”Watch that smart mouth of yours,” Maxwell whispers into your ear and pulls his finger out from between your legs. He holds it up in front of your face. ”I can think of far better ways to use it.”

You open up as he presses the finger against your lips and you suck the digit into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks slightly, you can taste your own arousal in the pad of his finger. You swirl your tongue around it and make a soft hum at the back of your throat because you think Maxwell will appreciate it. You let your lips move back and forth, slowly, over the ridges and knuckles of his finger. Maxwell just watches you silently.

When the telephone rings a couple of minutes later, it takes you by surprise, and you start. Maxwell pulls his finger out of your mouth and wipes it on his pants. You move to stand up, but he pulls you back onto his lap, securing you in place with an arm around your waist. You can feel the hard line of his cock press against your ass.

”Did I tell you you could leave?” he growls, low and dangerous, in a way that sends shivers up your spine the way this tone of voice always does.

”I'm sorry, Mister Lord,” you apologize.

Maxwell picks up the phone to answer

”Perrault! Bonjour! How are things in Paris?” he greets the person on the other side, immediately dialing up the smarmy businessman persona. You hear the person on the other side mumble something in response and Maxwell laughs, loud and fake. They exchange a few more pleasantries as a couple of other people connect to the call. Maxwell is tapping his fingers against your side and you can tell that he's already bored.

You strain to hear what is being said on the other end of the call but it's difficult and Maxwell's responding hums give away little information. He's loosened his grip around your waist and is now running his fingers along the edge of your bra. Your own hands are gripping the fabric of the gown lightly. Maxwell hasn't told you what to do and as much as he appreciates you taking initiative at work, he's usually of the opposite mind in these situations.

Maxwell continues to talk and you continue to sit perched on his lap, anticipation mixed with a hint of worry, building. He's pulled one of your breasts out from its lacy confines now and is absent-mindedly rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. Every now and then he gives it a pinch and you jump slightly. You don't need to see Maxwell to know that he's smiling.

Suddenly, Maxwell pats the desk in front of him and it takes you a second to realize what he wants. When you do, you stand up from his lap. Maxwell stands too and you can see his erection straining against the pants of his suit.

He pushes the gown off your shoulders and it falls to the floor. Then he places a hand on your chest and guides you to sit down on the desk. You do, but Maxwell keeps pushing until you are lying flat on your back across the cold and smooth surface. He stands hovering above you, phone in one hand as the other push your legs up and apart. You feel incredibly exposed but would be lying if you said there wasn't a part of you that really got off on just that.

Maxwell holds a finger up to his lips in warning and then, without much preamble, he reaches down and pushes that very same finger into you. You have to bite down hard on your lower lip not to gasp out loud. Maxwell pulls his finger almost all the way out before inserting another. Your brows draw together in a frown and your mouth falls open on a silent moan.

”So run that by me again, exactly what you think the benefits would be for me and my company, in this scenario of yours,” Maxwell tells the people on the phone but his eyes are locked with yours as he sets a slow pace for fucking his fingers into you. His eyes look almost pitch black from lust and as he curls his fingers slightly upward, you feel like your own eyes are about to roll to the back of your head.

The speed of Maxwell's fingers steadily increase when the people on the other end of the line are talking but slow down when he makes his own replies. It's the most delicious kind of torture and you feel your pleasure building and building. You suddenly know that there is no way you will be able to stay silent when you come, and so you desperately tug at Maxwell's arm to get him to stop. But instead of pulling his fingers out or stopping, he just shifts the phone so he's holding it up against his ear with his shoulder and uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth. You watch him with wide eyes as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers and you barely last a minute before you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment. Maxwell's palm doesn't manage to entirely muffle your loud keen and you panic as you're sure it must have been heard on the other end of the call. The whole world is completely silent for a couple of seconds as you wait. Then there's mumbling on the phone.

”What's that?” Maxwell says, looking completely unfazed as he rests a sticky hand on your stomach. You're still frozen in the spot. Maxwell chuckles, ”Oh that. Just a little kitten I'm looking after...Oh, you have a dog?... you don't say? Well, pets sure do bring a certain kind of joy to our lives, don't they? Now, will you gentlemen excuse me for just a minute so I can make sure that she is happy and won't interrupt us again? One minute.”

He sets the phone down on the desk and you immediately start mouthing silent apologies. He covers your mouth with his hand again.

”I'm trying to work here, Kitten,” he says, keeping up appearances, in case his voice can still be heard on the phone, ”And I can't do that if you're gonna continue to mewl like this, you understand? I don't want to have to lock you out.”

You nod furiously to show that you have understood. Maxwell removes his hand. He picks up the phone again and looks like he's just about to speak when a dangerous grin suddenly stretches across his face. You feel a lump of dread grow in the pit of your stomach.

”Gentlemen! Sorry for the interruption...oh you are too kind!... Well as I was just saying, the proposal is not bad, but it needs some refining. Why don't I hand you over to my assistant and she can help you go over the numbers?”

If you thought there was anyway you would have gotten away with running, you would have. You shake your head as Maxwell holds out the phone for you. You giving the most begging look you can muster, silently asking him not to do this. Maxwell's hand doesn't move an inch but his eyes soften a little and, in a gesture of kindness that's slightly out of character for him, he mouths you've got this.

Hesitantly, you grab the phone and clear your throat, attempting to get your voice in order. Maxwell sits back down in his chair to watch you. You start to sit up but he shakes his head and you admit defeat, lying back down and holding the phone up to your ear.

”Good morning, Gentlemen,” you say, in a voice that sounds more normal than it has any right to sound, considering the circumstances. You actually hear Maxwell chuckle in the background and close your eyes to shut him out. You can do this, you tell yourself, almost echoing Maxwell's encouragement. You've gone over these numbers so many times over these past weeks that you could probably write them down in your sleep. If only you can focus on them and not the fact that you're currently spread out and mostly naked on your boss' desk then things will go just fine.

Maxwell sits back and lets you do your thing, looking slightly impressed at how you're adapting to the situation. However, in true Maxwell fashion, he soon gets bored with listening in on just half a conversation and you feel his hand run up your calf, caressing it. You bite your lip as his hand goes past the knee and smooths down the outside of your thigh. You have a sneaking suspicion where this is going.

Maxwell positions himself between your legs and as you listen to the accountant on the other end of the line, you lift your head slightly to meet Maxwell's gaze. He gives you a dark smile and lowers his face, just slow enough for you to brace yourself for the first touch of his tongue. You still start when it comes and Maxwell reaches up to place his hand on your stomach again, holding you in place.

You brace yourself for more but his tongue is surprisingly gentle and Maxwell alternates between licking and kissing along your folds. It feels nice but it isn't enough to drive you crazy and you know he's doing it on purpose. He's keeping the touches light enough that you're still able to talk. For all his attempts at seeming threatening, Maxwell doesn't actually want you to make a fool of yourself, or him for that matter.

This feels more like a reward than a punishment. Not that you have any plans on pointing that out to Maxwell, in case he's unaware.

He lets you finish up discussing details with the accountant, it’s gone well and you feel surprisingly proud of yourself, but then Maxwell impatiently stands up and motions for you to hand the phone back to him. You do and he demands to know if there are any questions regarding your counter-proposal. You hear the person on the other line begin to speak and Maxwell rolls his eyes.

”Monsieur Perrault,” he interrupts, ” I can hear we're not quite in agreement on this yet. So why don't we go back to our respective teams, see what adjustments we can make and I'll have my assistant schedule another meeting in about a week? Sound good?”

You hear the slightly confused mumbles of agreement on the phone.

”Excellent! Well, in that case, I wish you, gentlemen, a good day, and thank you for your time.”

Maxwell just about slams the phone back on the receiver and when he turns to you, there's something feral in his eyes. Before you have time to say something, Maxwell grabs you and drags you off the desk. He spins you around so that you're standing with your back pressed against his chest. He reaches around your throat and pushes your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

”You did so well, sweetheart!” he praises and you feel pride swell in your chest, ”Their fucking incompetent excuse for an accountant didn't stand a chance against you.” He grinds his hips against you and lets out a low moan.

”Bend over,” he orders and you do as you're told, leaning over the desk and resting your cheek against your forearms. You hear Maxwell get his pants open.

”Gonna have them eating out of our hands by the end of next meeting,” he says as he lines himself up. Then he thrusts home and you cry out as his cock fills you up, in one rough motion. Realizing just what kind of fucking you're in for, you reach out and grab the edges of the desk to keep yourself steady. Maxwell is already gripping your hips hard and pumping into you. You gasp with each thrust. The gentleness of his tongue during the call is gone. This is him, taking what he needs. And you, willingly giving it.

”So fucking good,” he praises again. You're not sure if he's commenting on your performance during the conference call or your current performance. His breathing is getting more ragged with each thrust.

Maxwell leans over you and presses his lips against your shoulder. It's not quite a kiss but right now you don't care because he's fucking you senseless and that's enough. Enough to have a second wave of pleasure crash over you as you come, clenching hard around Maxwell's cock.

Maxwell's thrusts are becoming erratic. He says something against your shoulder that you can't quite hear through your daze of pleasure.

”What?” you gasp as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

”Tell me you love me!” It's more of an order than a request but right now you are willing to give him anything he wants so it doesn't matter.

”I love you...” you pant, ”I love you, Maxwell”

That's all it takes and in the next second Maxwell presses his face hard against your back and comes, deep inside you.

He holds you through his orgasm, lingers for only a few moments after before standing up and pulling out, leaving you feeling empty. He tucks himself back into his pants and picks the robe up from the floor and hands it to you.

”You know where the bathroom is,” he says, voice a little distant, ”Go clean yourself up. And it's late so if you want to you can spend the night.”

You nod and thank him, not quite able to meet his eyes before you walk towards the bathroom on shaky legs. Maxwell calls your name before you reach the door and you turn back.

”Yes?”

”...My bedroom is the third one on the left... just so you know.”

[illfoandillfie]

You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this! 

Taglist: @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

 “Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven’t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

 You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

 Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

 It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

 You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

 “Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

 He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance.  Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

 Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, “Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

 At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

 You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

 “How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

 He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

 On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don’t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

 Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly.   “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

 The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

 You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

 You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

 You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

[sierraraeck]

DeLeon (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aundreya and the team have to devise a plan to get Spencer back safely, which could mean tossing Aundreya back into the belly of the beast. Story twenty-four.

Category: Angst, but I end with some angsty-fluff?

Warnings: Cussing. Another kidnapping. Some torture, like getting hit, kicked, and some knife cuts involved. Think about that scene when Emily took a beating for Spencer in Minimal Loss. Forced drug use.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Here we go again with more problems. But we might just fix them this time. Also, I’m not sure how accurate my drug information is.

Stitching yourself up hurts like a bitch. It requires lots of alcohol in all capacities. I may have knocked out the fist guy, but the other two were good. One of them opened up a nice gash in my left leg with my own goddamn knife, which I finished stitching and started wrapping. I tried my best not to pass out, but I came close at least three times.

Once I wrapped it, I hobbled to my bedroom to change clothes. I didn’t have time to worry about the blood on them, or in the living room for that matter, and just tossed them to the side. I threw on a new shirt and a skirt. I hated skirts, but they would be the least restrictive on my wound, which I didn’t have time to worry about because the team needed my help to find Spencer, not to mention, what on earth was I going to do with the dead body in the middle of my apartment?

Up the ‘pass out attempt counter’ to four.

I limped back out of my bedroom, stepped over the man's body that finally stopped bleeding all over my rug, and grabbed my jacket and phone to head to the BAU, locking the door firmly shut behind me.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“What took you so long?” JJ hissed as I entered the bullpen.

Nearly all of my focus was on how I was walking, making sure that I didn’t look as crippled as I felt, so I could barely comprehend what she had just asked. She stared at me expectantly for a few seconds before I realized that was my cue to answer her. “Problem with my car. Sorry.”

I quickly searched for a seat while Hotch started reviewing what we had, “We know that Reid was taken between 8 and 11pm earlier tonight. If DeLeon sticks to our profile, he should still be somewhere in the immediate DC area. I visited Clyde in the hospital and he said he got the license plate numbers, but we’re sure DeLeon’s ditched those by now.”

“I ran those and the car was abandoned six miles away from Spencer’s apartment heading east,” Penelope chimed in.

“JJ, will you call local PD to begin blocking roadways and shutting down everything within a ten mile radius of Reid’s apartment?” Hotch requested, but it was more of a command.

“Absolutely,” JJ replied, already halfway out the door.

“Chambers, are you still willing to host a press conference about why we are shutting the area down?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Great. We have a script, but you mentioned adding in something so that DeLeon would know where to meet you, or if he’s already set up, to send you the location?” Hotch confirmed.

“Yes,” I repeated. I tried hard to focus on how I was going to send him that message, or elicit one out of him, instead of the throbbing artery in my leg.

“Chambers,” Morgan whistled twice to get my attention, “Chambers!”

“Yeah, what?” I faltered.

“Are you doing okay? You look a little pale,” he observed.

“No, I’m fine,” I insisted.

“Are you sure?” he pushed.

“Yes, I’m good. I’m ready,” I assured. I stood up, which was a colossal mistake on my part, having not evaluated my current situation.

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding,” Emily said, concern coating her face.

“I’m what?” The question flew out of my mouth before my head caught up. I looked down to see a steady stream of blood running down my leg. I whispered, “Oh.”

“What happened, sit down,” Emily suggested, walking over to me.

“Oh, nothing, I’m sure it’s fine,” I shrugged. “Put me on air.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Derek asked. “You can’t go out like that.”

“Another one?” Hotch confirmed, calm as ever. I just nodded.

“Another one of what?” Emily turned to face Hotch. He raised his eyebrows as he tilted his head toward me, his silent way of passing the question off. Emily brown eyes trained on my own.

“Another break in.”

“What?” both her and Derek asked at the same time. Derek followed with, “Break in?”

“Yes, break in,” I confirmed, reaching down to pull up my skirt, exposing the source of the blood. “It’s been going on for a few months now.”

“A few months?” Derek repeated.

“Repeating what I say is not going to help,” I attempted a joke.

“Why are we just now hearing about this?” Emily stepped back in.

I looked down, “There’s nothing you could’ve done to change it.”

“Yes! We could’ve added more locks, or higher security, or-”

I cut her off with a demeaning scoff, “Oh come on. You think the people who have the guts to come after me are going to shy away from some locks or security systems? That’s not exactly how this works.”

“We could’ve been there,” she firmly hissed between her teeth.

“Why?” I legitimately wanted to know, “So you could’ve lost as much sleep as I have? So you could’ve come out with as many bruises as cuts as me? So you could’ve ended up as one of the dead bodies in my living room? No thanks.”

“One of the dead bodies in your living room?” Derek’s eyebrows were still drawn in concern.

“Did I say dead body?” I questioned. Smooth, bitch. “I don’t recall mentioning a dead body.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You are impossible.”

“Yes, and while this is quite fascinating chit-chat, can we please refocus on our main issue?” I redirected.

I hadn’t noticed Rossi had left the room until he came back, plopping an FBI grade medical kit on the table in front of me. I gave him a tight lipped smile and a nod, my way of saying thank you. He returned a single nod, letting me know he got the message. I started patching myself back up, while trying to think of the best way to get the right message to DeLeon.

When it was time for me to face the cameras, I felt I looked sufficiently professional with my hair brushed and an absence of blood on my leg.

I walked out of the building to a stupid amount of cameras, and felt blinded by the number of lights in my eyes. It was as dark as the night could get, completely cloud covered preventing any sort of moonlight from seeping through, and I wasn’t sure how many people were watching breaking news at 12:20am, but there was really only one person who needed to see it. Well, maybe two.

“Good evening, I’m Agent Pincher with the behavioral analysis unit of the FBI. Earlier tonight, we received a report of a theft and kidnapping from a local bar and club, and believe the perpetrator, Mr. Robbi Raymond, to be armed and dangerous. We ask that all residents within the DC and surrounding areas stay in their homes and get off the roads as soon as possible while we do everything we can to find this man and bring him to justice,” I presented. The reporters all started firing questions at me, all of which I ignored, turning around to head back inside the building. Where it was quiet.

“Why’d we even give you a script,” Rossi playfully sighed, “if you’re not even going to use it?”

“I used it. Kind of,” I smiled.

“Who the hell is Agent Pincher?” he asked, “And how does that relate to DeLeon?”

I was about to answer him, but I started seeing stars. My vision got fuzzy and it sounded like Rossi’s voice was playing from a muffled radio a hundred feet from me. I reached out for something, anything, and barely felt fabric over my fingertips before I felt nothing at all.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Pass out counter: 1.

There was something cold and wet dripping down my forehead and thigh. I blinked my eyes open only to get a freezing cold water droplet in one of them. I sat up, causing the ziploc bag of half-melted ice to fall to the floor. I was back in the round table room laying on the couch, Penelope sitting in a chair next to me.

“Morning,” she chirped. I looked down at my leg which also had a bag of ice on it and a fresh set of bandages. After realizing that, I made a move to get up. Penelope placed one of her soft hands on my shoulder and said, “Slow down, we wouldn’t want you passing out again.”

I ignored her thoughtful comment, and went to fully stand up. “Have we heard anything yet?”

Penelope looked at me awkwardly for a moment, like she didn’t know how to answer. They told her not to tell me about it. “What is it, Pen?”

“I’m not supposed to say anything,” she admitted.

“Come on, please,” I begged, “You know I can help. What happened?”

“They got a message saying ‘See you there.’ They’re trying to figure out where ‘there’ is,” Penelope informed me.

“Fantastic,” I smiled, “If you let me outta here, I can go tell them where ‘there’ is.”

“Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll go tell them,” she smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

I mirrored her smile, but shook my head instead, “Why don’t I just tell them myself.”

“Aundreya, please,” she pleaded.

“Penelope,” I mimicked, “please. This is Spencer’s life we’re talking about.”

She seemed torn for a few moments before relenting, “Fine.” She let me go, but called after me, “You really do love him, don’t you?”

I shyly smiled, and deflected, “I’ve got to go save him.”

She nodded and I felt her eyes on me all the way out the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“You have to keep it on the whole time,” Derek reminded me.

“I know,” I was irritated, “You’ve told me that three times now.”

“The entire time. Don’t take it off of your own free will.”

“I will smack you,” I warned, adjusting my skirt, making sure that the wire was expertly hidden. I knew he was doing it to annoy me and kind of joke around to keep me lighthearted before I went in, but it was really just amplifying my nerves.

“Unless he searches you and finds it, you keep it on the whole - ow!” Derek started. I’d slapped him across the arm. Hard.

“What? I gave you a heads up,” I pointed out.

“Are you ready to go?” Aaron asked, walking over to where I was standing.

“Yes,” I confidently replied.

“Good. We will be listening the whole time,” he assured. I nodded, took a deep breath, and headed toward the gentlemen’s club entrance.

I walked in to find that it was completely empty, as it should’ve been considering the road blocks and evacuations. It felt eerie, though, walking into an environment I was used to that bustled with people, now completely silent. It felt beyond wrong.

I started whistling, “Oh DeLeon, where are you?” When I got no response, I tried again, “DeLeon, I know you’re in here.”

I felt the air shift around me before I heard, “Behind you, babe.”

I ducked as I spun around, making sure to dodge any possible headshots he was planning. I was right to do so, because when I could fully face him, he was holding a half filled glass bottle of whiskey. “Where’s Spencer?”

“Aww, your precious little baby agent,” he mockingly cooed, rolling his eyes, “He’s not here.”

“You know, for as good of a criminal as you are, you’re a pretty shitty liar,” I commented.

He completely ignored me as he changed the subject, “I have to admit, that broadcast you put out was pretty clever. Agent Pincher and Robbi Raymond? Made this venue very easy to pick.”

“I try,” I shrugged. He and I had first met in a club in Chicago that was owned by a very rich man named Robbi Raymond. He owned multiple strip clubs across the country, and the one we were standing in right now was one of them. Or, at least, used to be. Raymond went bankrupt after falling for an elaborate scam set up by the Cloaks, one that I helped complete when I pick-pocketed him during a lap dance, finally getting my first bit of recognition. DeLeon and his boys nicknamed me Pocket Pincher. “I made things easy for you, so why don’t you make things easy for me. Where’s Spencer?”

“He’s not here,” DeLeon repeated.

I huffed, “Sure, not in this exact room, but I know he’s here somewhere. Where has your creativity taken you this time? The back room? Behind the stage?”

“Why don’t you let me lead you there?” he suggested. I gestured for him to start walking, but he didn’t budge. “Blindfolded.”

I scoffed, “And why on earth would I trust you to blindly lead me to a dark room where you could kill us both?”

He shrugged, “That depends on how much you want to see your little not-boyfriend again.”

I glared at him for a long while, hating how his smirk grew ever so slightly at my silence. He knew it would eventually turn into a yes. “Fine.”

“Fantastic,” he sang, walking to the other side of me. A shiver ran down my spine at the mere thought of having him out of eyesight, but I didn’t really have a choice. I don’t know where the blindfold came from, but it was over my eyes in seconds, and completely blacked out. He then placed a hand on my back, which I squirmed away from, but he grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged.

When he lifted it up, exposing my back to the stale club air, I demanded, “Get your hands off me!”

“What? Can’t a guy admire his handiwork?” he asked, reminding me of yet another scar he left on my body.

“Don’t touch me,” I bit, “I’ll just follow your voice as long as you tell me which directions to turn.” I couldn’t have him leading me blindly to where Spencer was without letting the team know how to get there.

“I don’t think so,” he said, reaching up behind my hair to yank on the small wire that was placed there. “I wouldn’t want it to be that easy to find.”

I am in big, big trouble. “Lead the way, then,” I spat. He did, placing his hand back on my back and leading me down multiple hallways and a variety of left turns, all of which I tried to keep track of, until he ripped the blindfold off my eyes.

We were in a small, what I guessed to be a VIP, dance room with two poles and a lavish red velvet couch. Tied to one of those poles was Spencer Reid. I was about to call out to him when DeLeon clapped his scruffy, clammy hand over my mouth, pulled out a gun, and aimed it at Spencer. “Why don’t you sit on the couch?”

He’s stepped to the side of me and I nodded frantically at his request. He just can’t hurt Spencer. He removed his hand from my mouth, then brought it to his, putting his pointer against his lips. I walked over to the couch and sat down like he requested, finally getting to study Spencer. He was tied, not chained, and was slouching, as if he was sleeping standing up. I would have thought that was exactly what he was doing had it not been for his partially unbuttoned shirt, already developing bruises, and bloodshot eyes staring right at me. They were glossed over, and I couldn’t tell if he was actually seeing me, or just looking through me. I so desperately wanted to call out to him, let the rest of the team know that I’d found him, but DeLeon still had his gun aimed in Spencer’s direction. I was worried that any sudden movement would set him off.

He walked over to me, lowering his gun just slightly, and whispered, “I don’t like it when people don’t hold up their end of the deal.” As he said that, he made quick work of removing the wire. So much for Derek’s ‘keep it on’ pep talk. I thought he would smash it right there, but instead he back walked toward a small changing room, careful to open the door with as little sound as possible.

DeLeon disappeared behind the door for a moment or two, just enough time for me to whisper, “Spence.”

He met my eyes, like really met my eyes, but there was no emotion there. He was as cold as stone, and I had to respect him for finding a way to get through this. When DeLeon returned he was holding a small radio-like device that I didn’t totally recognize. He set it down on a small wood table across the room, set the wire in front of it, and clicked play.

“What do you want, DeLeon?” the voice came over the speaker. My voice.

“You broke our deal,” his voice sneered, “I want to show you what happens when you break other people’s things.”

My mind was racing. We’ve never had that conversation before. I’ve never said that before. How did he get my voice on that recording? I’ve never said those things before.

I was listening and trying to figure out how he did that, and why? What was he planning? As if he could read my mind, DeLeon walked over and whispered, “You’re not the only one with tech inclined friends. I just handed over all of those recordings of your voice, and what do you know? It’s like we’re having a conversation.” I was astonished. I wanted to stand up and yell, which I was about to do, but DeLeon added, “I wouldn’t scream if I were you. We’re going to keep things nice and quiet.” His gun was back on Spencer.

He walked to the middle of the room and announced just quieter than the recording, “We’re going to play a little game. I’ve got a variety of fun things planned for us, but every time a new one is introduced, I will give Aundreya here the option to take it or leave it.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied, shaking my head.

“It’s very simple,” DeLeon purred, cracking his knuckles. “You get a choice: I hurt you, or I hurt him.”

My answer was also very simple, “Me.”

“I figured as much,” he grinned, walking over to me, “Oh, and try not to make any noise, would you?” I braced myself as he wound up to hit me, planting a very solid blow to my right cheek. I bit back a grunt.

“You or him?” DeLeon asked.

“Me.” And he hit me again, this time on the left side.

“You or him?”

“Me.” Another one.

“You or him?”

“Me.” This one was aimed at my nose, and I heard a distinct crack as blood started running down my face.

“You or him?”

“Me.” Me, me, me, me, me. A hundred times over, me.

I lost count of how many times he’d hit me when it turned to kicking. I wanted so badly to groan, or even just wince, but I couldn't risk it. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood, or maybe that was just the blood from the cut on my lip, I wasn’t sure anymore. Somehow, I ended up off the couch and laying on the floor, my eyes stinging with tears, but I tried to keep them at bay. It killed me not to fight back. The only thing keeping me sane was not looking at Spencer, not showing him how much pain I was really in. DeLeon lifted me off the ground and tossed me against the wall, each blow holding more anger than the last. He moved the wire and the recording out of the room because it was him that was making too much noise.

“Him!” he yelled in my face. I could feel some of the spit that came with it.

“No,” I croaked, “Me.”

He threw me back on the couch, and walked back into the changing room, returning with a small dagger.

“You,” he asked, “Or him?”

“Aundreya, no,” Spencer wept. I finally looked up at him to see that his clothes were even more disheveled and he was straining against the ropes. Tears were streaming down his face, “Please, just let it be me, once, just once, please. It’s okay, you can stop, just please, stop, let it be me.”

I looked away from his broken eyes. I had to be able to keep my strong face and if I kept looking at him, I knew it wouldn’t take long for me to lose it. I shook my head, “No. Me.”

Part 2

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[game-fixer]

Game Fixes Episode 1: Mega Man X7

I'm gonna start my tenure with one of the most notorious games in all of Mega Man, not just the X series. I have several ideas that can make the game feel more in line with characters and feel less forced.

Of course this will come with general polish in many aspects including a redone script and voice work. No disrespect towards any actors/actresses in the games, of course, but the presentation needs some serious work. Anyway, let's start with the first change

Axl

No, I'm not gonna get rid of him. I think he's a welcome addition to the cast and, if worked right, could be made to be even more beloved in the game he debuted in, despite being the Silver the Hedgehog of the X series.

First idea would be an overhaul in his move set. I say ditch the lame Copy Shot thing for his charge. Also have him function more like Bass from Mega Man and Bass/Mega Man 10, where he stands in place and you aim manually from the start. In 3D, (because I'm not getting rid of 3D) this could even include a first person aim function so you can be more precise. Also a light will shine to show your path so you're not relying on blind fire. Now, I'm thinking he could still charge a shot. What would he shoot? Well you could target multiple enemies at a time, release, and shoot a spread shot of small homing missiles at enemies or even Mavericks which can take a lot of these shots, of course. This feels more like a proper special ability and something that requires a meter for. So what do we do with that Copy Ability that makes him special?

Bio Metal

Yep, the special little MacGuffins from the ZX series. The very same. I'm thinking Axl would be the first Reploid to be made with an early version of Bio Metal, allowing him to change forms at will. This would be his version of X's Weapon Systems. Axl would gain new armor and abilities from the Mavericks he fights to boost his arsenal. A regular shot and a special shot. For example, with Ride Boarski, you'd shoot his regular weapon, but his Special move could be a Tackling Dash that would plow through enemies until the Meter runs out. Flame Hyenard could give a flamethrower for the main shot and his special could give you a clone that shoots for a few seconds. Tornado Tonion could give his leaf shot as a main, and his special lets you throw a tornado and damage enemies in a wide pattern. That sort of thing. The Mavericks aren't the only ones you're getting Bio Metal data from, though. Before I talk about that, let's bring up the main boy himself.

X

I'm thinking X would still be unlockable just like normal, but you'd play as him through an intro stage to feel the power you need to have back. Is he moping about violence and sitting on the couch like a lump like before? Yes and no. X, after causing a serious accident and putting innocent lives in danger, requests to be taken out of active duty until he can sort himself out, but he doesn't want to stop helping. Seeing how lousy X treated our new friend in the real story gave me an idea. Make X train Axl as his superior officer! Axl could be a trainee Hunter, still dealing with his checkered past with Red Alert and realizing they were no better than murderers, thus joining the Maverick Hunters to pay his dues to himself and prove to himself he isn't evil. X, seeing some of his own plight in his Rookie apprentice, starts taking a liking to Axl's ideals, despite his hot-headed, quick-to-the-trigger tactics and lack of professionalism. They butt heads through the intercom, with X saying this needs to be done by the book, but Axl wanting to show how he can take on any challenge no sweat and all that. X would be the Navigator for Axl, though Alia would aid as well.

Unlocking X

While saving Reploids will still be a thing, X will be unlocked halfway through the game. The whole thing would be integrated into the story. Axl defeats 3 or 4 Mavericks. All the while, X is still dealing with his fear of becoming a Maverick, fearing all he lost and hating his carelessness. Before your 4th fight, X will start getting more hostile and snappy at Axl, making Alia worried for X, since she's never seen him so worked up at himself. Axl begins to suspect X going Maverick to himself (he'd think "H-he isn't going...nah, of course not. Commander X is too strong for that...but...) Once the 4th stage is complete we get a midstage, like in Mega Man 7 or 8. A Mechanaloid is causing havoc in the city and Axl offers to go help. However, X sees that it's the same one that he caused the accident with and this sends him spiraling into anger.

"It's still out there?! After all I did, it wasn't enough?!? Damn it!!"

"Commander! Let me go take it out! Those people are in danger!"

"Why? So you can cause more damage with your recklessness?! You want to be a Maverick Hunter? Act like one and grow up!"

"...that's it... I'm not taking this from an old man that's crying about one little mistake he made!"

"...tch...you can't go anyway...you have your mission... just... stand down for now, kid."

"Commander X, what are you-?"

"You're right, Axl. I've been stewing about this for too long. This guy's mine. I have to prove this to myself."

That's how I think the scene would go. You go in as X and fight the Mechanaloid after a short stage rescuing plenty of civilians along the way. Alia and Axl are watching the events and communicating with X as well. X wins the battle, but suddenly his Buster goes off out of nowhere again, nearly destroying something that would put civilians in harms way. They are saved in the nick of time by Axl, who ports in anyway to try to help. X starts to doubt himself again, but Axl could see that it was something out of his control. The two go back to Hunter Base to run diagnostics and they find a bug in X's Buster systems, a lesser string of the Sigma Virus. X gets repaired after seeing this virus as a warning that Sigma might be back. This snaps him out of it and this gets him to go out and fight. You can now choose to go out as Axl, X, or as a team. If you go solo, your shots will be stronger, but without the backup, you'll be left with less defense.

Zero?

Nope, I'm not forgetting our favorite robot swordsman. At all. He will not make a physical appearance at all in the game. Why? Well...the Mega Man Zero series is still a thing. While I like the idea that Zero's ending in X6 being at the very end of the series, I'm trying to keep a stronger set of continuity here. Zero would still be in stasis, though he could communicate with X, since I'm thinking this could be a precursor to Cyber Elves, having Zero be something like a separate AI that can still communicate. As for playing as him? Oh he's still available...as a Bio Metal! I'm thinking after your first Maverick stage, a Zero spirit will appear in a level (kinda like the X Hunters in X2 but less stupid). Go find it, and Axl will be challenged to a fight against Zero, or at least a Reploid being controlled by his spirit. Before Axl finishes it off, X tells him to stand down, and Zero comes back to talk with X. The Spirit also leaves behind the Z-Saber, and thus infusing Axl with Zero's abilities, thus creating a prototype of the Z-Type Bio Metal from ZX.

Red Alert

So, get this. What if Sigma really WAS technically gone forever? I mean the bodies are all used up. The Spirit lives on, yes, but ol' Siggy ran out of his own bodies. Humor me here. What if Red Alert became the new villain faction full time? What if Red became the new face of Sigma? We'll call it...Red Doom or something. Sigma basically integrated himself into Red's systems and basically became part of his robotic code as thoughhe was always Sigma. This could also explain more why Axl needed to leave Red Alert, but it also shows how much in denial he was about Red going Maverick, since Red taught Axl everything he knows.

Script Changes?

I made my case about where the plot should go, but lemme try to work out personalities I think everyone could get down with in general.

Axl is the cocky, hot-blooded new kid who wants to prove himself to be better than where he came from. No petulant, childish talking or stupidity here. He'd be more like Sonic the Hedgehog but still acting just a little green. Still taking things just seriously enough for his quips to be endearing.

X takes his role as a CO very seriously. He's to the point and ensures that Axl is taught the way a situation must be handled. He hates how lax Axl is during his missions and tries to get him to focus. In combat, X is a no nonsense fighter who is ready to bring in the Mavericks, by force if need be. He doesn't try to get them to go peacefully considering his experience. (in fact he'll say once "I guess I can't expect you to come quietly?") No more "Why must Reploids fight each other" and blah blah blah. We all heard this. While he hates the fight, he knows at this point that the world needs a warrior, sort of like Gohan if that helps.

Zero is supportive of X and does his best to help keep his mind out of darkness. He'll even say "You were willing to stand by my side when I feared going Maverick, so I'll be here to do the same."

Red is a lot more cold at the start, outright insulting Axl, saying that he's no more than a worthless prototype, and the next generation of Reploids will be far superior to Axl's faulty design, or taunting X saying "How the mighty hath fallen. How does it feel, X? How does it feel to have to watch as the world crumbles to nothing through the eyes of your good for nothing amateur all because you couldn't keep a tab on your trigger finger?" Red will also be a boss at the end of Axl's first stage before the Maverick fights, and you're meant to lose it to show how powerful he is. You can see shreds of Sigma in there, but he is woven into Red's thoughts and personality in a way that makes Sigma and Red seem equal in the body, though a body can still be created (basically Red Sigma will be put in a more "Sigma appropriate" body with the bald head and big ass chin. Basically Sigma takes Red completely in a way. They're both in control, like their souls combined if that makes sense.

Everyone else is how they should be. Alia, for example is more like how she was in X8.

These are just a few changes that would make Mega Man X7 a much more plot centered game that knows how to work with it's characters. Other fixes like making it faster, tweaking the weapons, making Dr. Light stay as an AI, all that feels superfluous, because a lot of that just makes sense to change. Same with presentation, but with a new script, new lines are inevitable, so duh.

Stay tuned for more Game Fixes! If you want to request a game, lemme know!

[somelazyassartist]

Just thinking about the last time I did a full digital art piece. Like, not the little doodles I've been doing recently, like, full art pieces with backgrounds and shading and stuff. When did I do one last? November? December? It feels like it's been so long, and I really do want to do it again, I just. I don't know. I don't have the energy or drive to do it. I have the motivation and desire to, I have so many ideas I want to go all out on and I get so excited for the picture in my head, but I just can't bring myself to start without getting disheartened and quitting halfway through the lineart. I've ditched multiple big projects just because I can't bring myself to finish them (remember the "not all exits are made equal" animatic I was so excited about? Yeah. Pretty much trashed.) And it's not like I wasn't proud of what I did either, I'm still proud of a few of my big art pieces. It just feels like almost nobody cares. I've got two people I can name that consistently like/reblog my art. Anything past those 4 notes is lucky for me. And at first I thought, maybe it's my posting schedule, I should do some routine reblogs for people who missed it, but nope those don't do anything and it's crushing to me. And I know it shouldn't be about notes, it isn't about notes, but knowing that I put so much time and effort and care and love into my art and nobody cares at all really does hurt, especially because all of my self worth is tied into my art and I know that's unhealthy but it's true and I don't know how to fix it so that's just how it is at the moment. Art is my entire life, and I hate it. Yes I care about what I make, yes I make it because I care about my characters and my stories, but there's a lot more to it for me specifically. I grew up sick in bed a LOT when I was little and the only thing I could do was read and draw. When I first went to therapy the only coping mechanism I was taught was to make art and ignore everything else (and there's a lot of "everything else" so there was a lot of art) and now that it's been so long I don't know how to handle problems any other way without having a complete breakdown. When I started writing and making noticable improvements in my art I was immediately shoved into the expectations that I would make it my career and that trying to do anything else would be a waste of the one good thing I have, so I needed to constantly be working towards it and constantly improving and if I ever slipped up and stopped visibly getting better I'd be a failure and would do nothing useful with my life. At this point in my life, I cannot separate myself from my art and I cannot separate my art from me. People not caring about what I make makes me feel like I'm worthless because that's all I've ever been good for, and it's not other people's fault they don't care and I'm not trying to say I want to force people to pay attention to me all I'm trying to say is how I'm feeling, and I'm feeling bad because I'm stuck in this neverending cycle of "nobody cares about my art so I don't have the drive to put so much into it anymore, but now my art is worse and people shouldn't care as much, and now I feel horrible because nobody cares about my art, so I don't have the drive to put so much into it anymore" until my art gets worse and worse and worse and now it's just detached little doodles with nothing going on other than a character just standing in a blank space and I hate it and I hate me because I am my art and my art is me so if my arts bad I'm bad and I just feel worthless and nobody cares about me and half my family doesn't talk to me and I can't come out the other half because I'm worried they won't talk to me either and I'll be left with nothing but my art my art that I hate I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate art I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself so fucking much

[occasionalmagicandcurses]

its been about 10 years

But I’m back. I did therapy for a year and honestly all it got me was agitated. I remember the days of yore when I would sit on my tumblr home page, refreshing constantly and making new friends through whatever current horrible experience I could put to words in my life at the time. Whether it was the milso shit I was on (he was a cheater, and I was just a girlfriend), or the love for pokemon or anime, I always made a friend. I’m still friends with so many of them to this day. I’d skip whatever homework I had to do and meticulously pick at the code for my theme, calling to the days even further back of myspace and (dare I say it...) xanga. I learned about my internet etiquette through here. I paid way too much attention to the rules and regulations, even dipping my toes in some internet drama. I was an early witness to the birth of “cancel culture.” It was here that I developed my dreams and material aspirations for the future.

And 10 years has flown by. I’ve got two degrees, a staggering amount of debt, a few more earth shattering relationships, and 1 cross country move to show for it.

They say that no matter where you go, you are there. Whoever they are, they’re right. And it is draining to have to carry myself around everywhere. I can never seem to be completely upright. My anxiety says “gnaw on your fingers until they bleed” or “buy one more pair of shoes” or “shake your leg until even your dog looks at you funny” in an attempt to mitigate some of the pressure in my jaw. My depression follows up with the gambit of “you have no self control” or “no one will want you” or “just hold off on eating, it’s not going to do anything for you.”

I turned 30 years old 3 weeks. Feels the same as 29, except now 40 is 10 years around the corner, instead of 11. None the less terrifying or grim. I have an awful spending problem, undoubtedly an overcorrection from my poverty-stricken childhood. Ever seen cheese that doesn’t melt? I learned how to count from the monopoly money-esque appearance of food stamps. My mom would make it a game. I found it fun until we started having to leave baskets of food at the register because something was wrong. 

Trauma, its delicious, I swear. We bounced from home to home, changing schools by the semester and allowing my brain to continue to develop on its fucked up axis. I struggled to make friends and struggled even harder to want to try. I knew it would all blow up anyway. I told the most elaborate lies to hide my home life. I’d say my grandmother was a doctor, and I’d hide that I couldn’t afford breakfast at school by saying I was trying to lose weight, or not have a full stomach for band practice later in the day. 

I got on the overcompensation train pretty early. I finally got tired of my mom’s repetitive failures and walked out of the door at 17. I never lived with my mom again. I never want to be like her. To be 53 and living paycheck to paycheck with two kids I never wanted and still can’t parent correctly? Count me out. 

I burned through college and graduate school. I have a career I am pretty kickass at. I love what I do. 

I decided to change directions (and time zones) about 3 months ago. When I say I was bored, I was b o r e d. Professionally, I felt stuck. I had a job I was good at, but didn’t want to move up in. It was lacking the spark that made me love my field to begin with. I was living in a city I’d been in for the past 20 years. I was a year past the breakup from a relationship that literally and mentally broke me in two. Absolutely devastated me. I sometimes cry for that life on occasion. It was pure misery and happiness that I don’t think I’ll ever experience again. I still feel I’m not worthy of one or the other. There’s always a price. Both, or it isn’t real. Comparison (and infidelity) were the thieves there. My unbridled anger too.

I packed up my car and my dogs and took the mom that told me she would have had a great military career if it weren’t for me and drove halfway across the country. I flew her back home a week later, and not a minute sooner. Being in close quarters with her always stews a rage that turns me into not the daughter that’s pushed for 25 years for her to be a mom, but the daughter that hates the mother she never had. I drove the entire trip and never really could quantify why I wanted her to come, except to say it might have been a latch ditch effort of the little girl that wanted a parent. I could have done it by myself, and I probably should have. 

Getting away has been amazing. I haven’t worked in almost a month and this was the break I didn’t know I needed. I saved up some, but obviously not enough, and now I get to pay the piper in a few weeks. I’m doing stupid things like riding my tax refund and the bonus for the job that I over performed at for 3 years to pull me through. I already got another job but good lord the background check has been sucking the life out of me. I am not a murderer, but I guess they need to figure that out for themselves. I’m slightly nervous for this job. My family and friends think I’m working now, but I am enjoying doing whatever the fuck I want. I blew off the job I got that motivated me to come out here because of the lack of money and transparency. 

Then I made the absolute mistake of swiping on tinder. I’m not sure what I get out of doing it, aside from fleeting attention from guys who like to talk about their sex drive, but I did it anyway. I’m not ready for a relationship, and I know it. So I’m forcing it with this guy who works too much and looks 10 years older than he actually is because of it. He smells nice though. I sold him to my gf’s as “he’s great!” and he is. Just not for me. I’ve only had sex with him once because I’m honestly not all that attracted to him. His fingers are chubby, but he’s not fat. I don’t like how he touches me, and I wish he was more dominant. Not in a “smack me around” type of way, but a “hey I wanna do this thing and I’m gonna show you and not really leave it to discussion” kinda way. He could make a great friend, so I’m probably going to go ahead and nip that sooner rather than later.

I think I want attention, but I don’t. I honestly just want to mind my business and start the process of fixing all of my fucking problems. And actually finish. 

[charlemange1]

Ask of the Lesser (Frankenstein/Lovecraft Works): 1 Paradise Lost

“I say to you againe, doe not call up Any that you can not put downe; by the Which I meane, Any that can in Turne call up somewhat against you, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be of use. Ask of the Lesser, lest the Greater shall not wish to Answer, and shall commande more than you.”

—The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

“…did I solicit thee

From darkness to promote me?”

—Paradise Lost

Some folks are born destined for greatness. Others live content in ignorant mediocrity, never knowing what could have been. Then there is me. Born into wealth, but barred from inheritance. Raised to be great, but crippled from illness. Dinning amidst kings and counselors, yet ever aware of that unseen barrier separating me from them. Was that not my first memory? My brother halfway out the door, glancing back to remind me I was too little to follow. Too weak. Left behind while he set out to make a name for himself. A name that has haunted me long after fleeing Geneva.

“But I am alive,” I whispered. Whether it was to my drink or the cockroach circling its rim, I could not say. Usually I could handle the memories, but tonight was the four-year anniversary of my brother’s death, and by God I longed to forget amidst this shabby tavern.

Taking another swig, I half listened to the men behind my lonely table clank mugs and bet on who was the lowest on Fortuna’s wheel. Their strange accents branded them fellow refugees.

“The revolutionaries ransacked the whole farm!”    

“Well, the bloody peasants welcomed Napoleon in my city! I had to flee with only the clothes on my back. You know how the French handled their own revolution. Can you top that, mates?”

My heart ached for these poor souls. Seeking connection through tragedy, I tipped my chair back to face them.

“Illness struck my mama down when I was a boy,” I said.

“Did it?” The grit on the central speaker’s face cracked beneath a mocking smile.

“Yes, and our trusted family maid strangled my little brother. Shortly afterwards a good friend was murdered abroad, and my dear cousin’s neck was snapped on her wedding night. The pain of it drove my papa to an early grave and my surviving brother insane. The servants thought our family cursed and fled, and I followed suit when the riots escalated.”

Silence fell over the already solemn tavern. A few men on the sidelines glanced up.

“I’ll be dammed,” someone called. “We can toast to that! To…”

“Ernest,” I raised my glass, holding back a cough. “Ernest Frankenstein.”

The tavern chanted my name with a bitterness only hardened refugees could master. Many of them had likely been noblemen or magistrates, all pointless titles once the fever of revolution had gripped the masses. The upper class had been blamed for every economic and social injustice, and in the fires of vengeance, not even my deceased parent’s philanthropy had saved the Frankenstein villa from rioters.

From the lakefront I had watched the flames devour my past, present, and foolishly assumed future dwelling. I would compare it to Adam and Eve’s expulsion from Paradise, but they at least had one another. What had I? A few hastily gathered heirlooms and happy memories trapped inside coffins? Wretched world! Paradise was lost to me the day Captain Walton presented my last family tie in a casket. He had found Victor half-frozen in the Arctic, chasing imagined monsters he blamed for the misfortune that plagued us. My poor, hysteric brother! I downed the rest of my drink, so much for burying bad memories. As I tried (and failed) to get that miserable captain from my mind, I pulled a few silver francs from my pocket. I would last three months, best. The only heirloom I had not bartered for bread was Victor’s pocket journal, and I doubted the ravings of a madman would fetch a high price. Taking my cane, I started toward the splintering door. A little girl dashed in front of me and I clutched the counter to steady myself. She pranced to the bartender and tugged on his pant leg with tiny hands. The patches on her dress were the same fabric as his pants—his daughter no doubt.

“My apologies,” the bartender bowed to me while shaking off the girl. “Turn away for an instant and the children wreak havoc!”

“You are fine,” I nodded. The girl held an empty bowl in her sooty fingers. William had been around her age when Elizabeth and I had first taken him to the lake to catch crawdads. The memory made me smile, and I dropped a few francs on the counter as I passed. “Feed your family.”

Two months now, but I would manage. A tall gentleman with arms crossed over his half-buttoned coat opened the door for me, and I thanked him before stepping onto the dirt road. The moonlight enveloped the surrounding forest in dancing silver. If I walked all night, I could arrive in the next town by morning, presuming my legs could carry me that far. The sooner Ingolstadt was behind me, the better.

A multitude of steps thundered after me. Biting my lip, I continued onward.

“Pardon me, Monsieur Frankenstein.”

There was venom in those words. I turned to face the group of three, recognizing the badly buttoned coat of the man in front who had held the door. I had not anticipated such a broken-down tavern housing learned readers. It seemed that in times of war even the mighty seek to forget the world.

“I presume you have read that captain’s so-called biography of my brother?” I interrupted the expected affirmative. “You should know that Victor was aliéné, completely insane.”

“Graverobbing will do that to a man,” Button Boy’s meaty fingers flexed. “As will lurking around God’s domain doing the devil’s work!”

The absence of people in the streets was not lost on me. Most people had wisely laughed Walton’s narrative off as a madman’s rambles, but others saw their deepest fears galvanized within Victor’s delusions. Thrusting their terrors of a quickly modernizing world onto who they saw as the ultimate embodiment of progression gone wrong. They had taken fiction for fact, and once they made the connection between him and I, well…

“Tell me, Ernest, are you aware of the concept of the hereditary taint?”

“Oh my, I just realized that I have important business elsewhere,” I backed away and thumped against solid muscle. Fingers gripped my boney shoulders as a hoarse voice whispered into my ear.

“It is the belief that characteristics are passed from parent to offspring.”

“Interesting. A fine theory to consider while being on my way…”

Button Boy took a bold step forward. “Characteristics like madness, for example, taint the entire family. It is only a matter of time before they all go the same way.”

Victor’s journal weighed heavy in my pocket.

“Good sirs, I fear you are mistaken,” I said, straining my neck to the man restricting me. “I have been an invalid since boyhood. These bones are incapable of mimicking my elder brother. If you hold that biography so dear, you would know that I had no say in his monster’s creation!”

“Perhaps.”

The tone was not reassuring.

“I am not my brother,” I jerked around but the hands easily held me. “Release me! Or I-”

Button Boy stuffed a rag between my teeth to stifle my pointless threats. What could I have said? That wounding me would have them tried by my high standing dead father and jailed by my dead country? You have nothing, Ernest. You are nothing now!

The exhaustion in my heart made my pitiful thrashing falter. My head fell against my attacker’s solid chest, soaking the shirt with sweat. If this was the climax to nineteen long years of suffering, why had I been born at all? What was your intent, Lord?

“This is for the good of humanity,” Button Boy leaned in close. Had William also stared into the eyes of his killer? What were his final thoughts as the maid he loved choked the life from his little body? Fingers gripped my throat and I gagged.

A shout came from somewhere, though my world had shrunk to those two murderous eyes. Out of the night, a fist punched Button Boy’s head with a force that broke his grip. I gurgled a choked gasp and collapsed on the road as the man behind me fled toward the trees. Light and dark wrestled for my vision as shouts and sounds of flesh on flesh erupted nearby. A new man whose blond curls drooped from wet sweat wrestled with Button Boy. Though Button Boy boasted a greater strength, his slim opponent easily dodged his fists and hit back with the skill of a man well-versed in human anatomy. Button Boy leaped up to strike the stranger’s face, but the taller man easily knocked his fist aside and punched his jaw with a force that sent him reeling. Button Boy clutched his mouth as he rushed off, dodging bottles the tavern hurled after him. The blond watched his escape with icy eyes before walking over to me.

“Is the boy injured?” the bartender called from the doorstep.

“Slightly stunned, but he will recover. I shall tend to him,” the stranger called back with enough confidence to convince the onlookers to file back inside the tavern. Better to avoid conflict than catch the eye of the wrong people.

“Can you walk, Monsieur?” the stranger asked with a poorly disguised American accent. He plucked my cane from the ground and handed it to me as I staggered to my feet.

“I am fine. Thank you, kind sir. Who knows what ditch I would be in now, had you not arrived,” I shuttered, extending my hand that he shook with the upmost class. A peculiar odor clung to him that I had never smelt before.

“Anything for a Frankenstein.”

Our hands dropped and I tried to cover a bad tear on my pants. “I take it you knew Papa, in better days.”

Better days. When my parents regularly welcomed renowned scholars to our villa. Justine had kept little William and I occupied while they discussed politics and theory. My throat burned from more than the aftertaste of cheap brandy. Justine. How could we have known what she was capable of?

“I never had the privilege to meet your father,” the stranger shuffled his shoe in the dirt. The moonlight reflected the fine quality of it. “Though Victor told me he was quite distinguished in your republic.”

My head lifted. “You knew my brother?”

“We shared several classes here at Ingolstadt,” the stranger explained. He looked to be in his late 20’s, what Victor would be now, had he lived. “Victor must have mentioned the name Joseph Curwen in passing? I was his chief competition.”

“I am afraid your name is new to me, Mr. Curwen,” I admitted. “From what I could gather, Victor would forget this place if he could. He guarded his secrets, I fear.”

“To a fault,” Curwen muttered. “It is a great shame. Your brother was a genius. Truly the Modern Prometheus of this age!”

“A fitting name,” I muttered. “Eagles feasting on your liver day after day would make even the greatest man go insane.”

“I heard he passed away, if this is to be believed.” Curwen pulled a book from his satchel. Even in the low light, I recognized Walton’s publication. “A great loss for humanity, to lose a mind as cultivated as his. It is quite the coincidence that I should meet you, Ernest, I was on my way to visit his grave and pay my deepest respects.”

Poor man! I owed him the truth, horrid though it was. “I am so sorry, Mr. Curwen, but Napoleon runs Geneva now. The Frankenstein tomb could be desecrated for all I know.”

“But not destroyed. It would be there in some form, correct?” Curwen’s voice fell to a whisper and I shuttered despite the warm breeze. “You would know your native land better than I. Could you take me to your brother?”

“Suicide,” I stumbled backward. Having just escaped death, I had no intent on testing my luck.

“I shall make it worth your while,” Curwen returned the book to his satchel and pulled out a piece of strange jewelry. It looked to be a tiara, though the patterns etched on its front held an unearthly splendor unlike any I had seen from Europe. The moonlight sent the golden coat sparkling, though the reflection suggested some foreign alloy.

“What metal is that?”

“One that will fetch a fine price,” Curwen winked and tossed me the tiara. I scrambled to catch it in time. “Us merchants have our secrets too.”

I tipped the headpiece back and forth, ever aware of the loose change rattling in my pocket.

“Please Ernest, merchantry may be my occupation, but respect for the dead is my duty,” Curwen gave a dramatic bow, perhaps an American attempt at being cordial? The habits of foreigners were largely unknown to me, when they visited our villa, Victor’s company was understandably preferred to mine. Yet hearing this stranger speak of my infamous brother so fondly was a gift in and of itself, and, I reminded myself, he had saved my life.

“I cannot promise you results, Mr. Curwen, but for the sake of my brother I will assist you as best I can.”

Curwen shook my hand again, how I missed such kind contact! “It would be much appreciated, Monsieur. We shall embark tomorrow. Until then, you must rest at my residence.”

“Really?” It was as though I were a human and not an assumed madman’s relative or corrupt aristocrat!

“For Victor’s brother, it is the least I can do,” Curwen turned from the tavern. “Come now, the university is nearby.”

“University?” my cane plunked in the dirt. “You cannot mean Ingolstadt University?”

“Where else?”

“But they closed earlier this year! From financial troubles, if I recall?”

“Which makes it the perfect abode to rest in peace,” Curwen chuckled, as though the last bit were humorous. “I assure you it is safe. The few remaining stragglers fled when the French invaded.”

Break in? Did this man consider me a criminal? Closing my eyes, I reminded myself that I was not much anymore, us invalids had to take what we could. Without Papa’s cushion of wealth, the sooner I accepted that reality the better.

“Alright, as long as no one will mind.”

**

Curwen and I made quick work of sneaking past the dark neighborhoods and French watchposts to the university’s outer gates. The night enveloped the massive buildings within to leave them warped pillars of shadow. I had kept away from this place for good reason. On this very campus those shadows had sprung and consumed my brother, spitting out the shaking husk that arrived home for William’s funeral. Curwen opened the unlocked gates effortlessly. There was no creaking, as though dark forces meant to fool us. The air weighed thick in my lungs.

“Come along, Ernest. Thankfully, I took the initiative to drag a few sofas into the library for my leisure. You may rest there.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. I stayed close to Curwen as he led me by torchlight inside one of the buildings and down several stone corridors that seemed to stretch forever. Finally, he stopped by a warped wooden door that opened to reveal shelves upon shelves of books lining the cobbled walls. Several piles of tossed volumes lay scattered from the hastily abandoned move.

Curwen chuckled as he stepped inside and began lighting the mounted torches.

“Does something humor you, Mr. Curwen?”

“I was thinking of your brother,” he said. “This library would close after dark, but Victor was never the type to grovel at authority. We would alternate between causing distractions so the other could sneak in and study! I presume he roped you into similar mischief, did he not?”

Curwen stopped by a cluttered desk and quickly placed several of the open books into his satchel. I seized the moment and blotted my runny nose with my coat-sleeve.

“No, I was Victor’s junior by seven years. I am afraid he never did much with me at all.” I could still see Victor’s sneer as he left for university so soon after Mama’s death. Free from his weak, invalid baby brother. “Did he mention me much?”

Curwen continued lighting torches with his back to me. “Victor kept his home and work life in private corridors. You likely noticed that in his letters!”

“He never wrote home,” my shoulders fell. “Not once.”

“Do not take it personally. Men of Victor’s caliber often find themselves so caught up in their work that the real-world slips by.”

“What sort of work?” I questioned, watching Curwen place another book in his satchel before buttoning it shut. “Mr. Curwen, surely you do not believe Walton’s lies?”

Curwen paused, choosing what to say. Victor had done that too. Shifting through information, pulling out the choice details.

“He worked in the sciences. Victor was a genius, as you know,” Curwen walked out the door with a nod. “Now rest, Ernest. We shall start for Geneva tomorrow.”

The door shut and I was left alone in the disorganized room. I picked up a badly bent copy of A Vindication on the Rights of Women and returned it to the shelf. Reading had never come easy to me like with Victor. I was still a child when my parents had abandoned their academic aspirations for me and left me to my own devices. A fine thing for a young boy, perhaps that was why I had found Victor’s insistence of making a scholar out of me so tiresome. He had appointed himself as my principal instructor, and not even Elizabeth’s sweet voice pointing out the obvious had swayed him…

“Ernest lacks the constitution for these theorems and formulas, cousin. He ought to strive for a more peaceful occupation, such as a farmer,” she said, almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” Victor muttered. He pushed another book in front of me, as though my confusion would be overpowered by his desire alone. “He is more than capable of being a lawyer, or a judge like Father. If he would just apply himself!”

“Victor,” her voice grew quiet. I still heard her. “You know his mind is incapable of severe application.”

“Well, I do not care for boring books,” I jumped up and Victor’s handwritten lessons scattered. “Or being a boring farmer! I will be a great soldier, fighting off vicious invaders and going on adventures!”

Victor and Elizabeth had shared a look. I did not understand at the time, but even back then they knew my limits. My weak frame could never survive the grueling life of a soldier. The trappings of my flesh outweighed my dream. I abandoned such fantasies soon enough. Probably for the best, there was no longer a Geneva to fight for anyways.

“But you are sleeping on silk tonight,” I lectured my inner demons while brushing dust from an old sofa. “And fate has been kind enough to gift you a companion! I am no longer alone, there is much to be thankful for tonight.”

Warmth spread through me as I sunk into the cushions. Curwen needed me, and as the torchlight shadows danced on the ceiling my thoughts left the past to focus on how I might aid the generous American in the future. My mind was at peace, though sleep eluded me as I slipped in and out of consciousness. It must have, for the shapes within those swaying shadows had no place in the waking world! A ball of sprawling tentacles flickered forward and back in some wicked séance while very human shapes danced around it to an unheard beat before crumbling to dust. Those horrible shadow tentacles licked up the dancers’ remains with an eagerness that paralyzed my limbs from silent terror. Then the tentacles leaked down the library walls to consume me just as the knowledge stored here had devoured Victor.

**

The next morning, a voice speaking in an unknown tongue shattered the nightmare. Curwen stood over me expectantly, speaking that same foreign language again with raised eyebrows.

“I take it you do not speak English?”

“No,” I yawned, rubbing my eyes to hide growing shame.

“I apologize, your brother was fluent—”

“I am not my brother,” I curled my trembling fingers around my cane. We could talk after leaving these cursed grounds behind! “But I can take you to him.”

NOTES:

Of all the characters in Frankenstein, few have been slighted as much as Ernest. He switches from sickly invalid farmer in the 1818 version to aspiring soldier in 1831, but despite losing just as much as Victor, he gets brushed to the sidelines by the end. The aftermath of the insignificant sole survivor of the Frankenstein house is just too good to not explore, and who better encapsulates the insignificance of us lonely humans more than the works of H. P. Lovecraft? Or amplifies it more than the disastrous French Revolution sweeping across Europe around the same time the events of Frankenstein take place? Considering Joseph Curwen spent nine years abroad in Europe studying dark arts, including necromancy and graverobbing, it didn’t seem like much of a stretch to write this crossover.

Scholars typically place the events of Frankenstein’s in the 1790’s, so for this adaptation I have Victor dying in 1798 and Ernest fleeing shortly after when the peasant riots in Geneva were escalating in want of reform. Since Curwen was stated to be killed in 1771, I have bumped up the events of Dexter Ward to overlap with the timeline of Frankenstein. This crossover serves as a prequal to Dexter Ward and sequel to Frankenstein, taking place in 1801, after Ingolstadt closed in the real world amidst financial troubles/French Revolution as well as near the tail end of Curwen’s nine years abroad in Europe, as stated in Dexter Ward.

Please comment and let me know what you think! ^^

[terri-does-gods-work]

Ultimatum (a tyrus oneshot)

Disney made the wrong choice when they cancelled Andi Mack. I am so distraught by the news I don’t know how to put it in words. But I did write a one shot based on the basketball game that is supposed to happen in one of the (very sadly) final episodes. 

Word count: 2045

The bell rang, allowing for a stampede of middle school students from classrooms all over the school to make their way to their lockers. Buffy and Andi had just finished English class, which was spent mostly passing notes to each other.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“Cyrus isn’t back from biology yet, is he?” Andi asked, looking around the Jefferson Middle School corridor.

“No, now hurry up, before he comes back,”

“Okay, so, you know how Cyrus was supposed to do a costume with TJ?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask him what happened to that. When we arrived, he was just sitting there all sad with a colander on his head,”

“Well, I asked him about it, and, turns out, TJ ended up doing another costume with Kira!”

“Kira?” Buffy asked, her face scrunched up in disgust, “As in, basketball Kira? The one with the awful attitude?”

“The one and only,” Buffy shook her head while Andi continued, “Anyway, I didn’t even know TJ and Kira were friends!”

“They both play basketball. If it wasn’t for basketball, I’d be blissfully ignorant towards TJ. But, unfortunately, I’m not. And Cyrus really cares about him. Why would he do that? As far as I know, he was the one who came up with the costume in the first place,”

“I have no idea.”

Just as Andi completed her sentence Cyrus popped up between the two girls, “No idea about what?”

“Uh…” Andi hesitated.

“No idea when you would show up, but speak of the devil, I guess!” Buffy said. The girls let out a forced laugh.

“Oh yeah, you know I always stay back after biology to ask more questions. Every part of that subject astounds me, I—” Cyrus stopped when he noticed Buffy had left his side and was running down the corridor, calling out to TJ.

Cyrus turned to Andi, “Why is she talking to him? Why is she talking to him?” He shook Andi by the shoulders, staring anxiously across the corridor.

“Don’t be mad, but I told Buffy about the whole TJ and Kira thing,”

“Why would you do that? You know how much she likes to meddle, especially when it comes to those two. I didn’t think she could like anyone less than TJ but then Kira came along,”

“Listen, Cy, I know how much you care about him. And I know he cares about you, too. Maybe Buffy’s meddling will do good this time. She cares about you, too. Maybe in a slightly different way than you do about TJ, but—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Cyrus interrupted, “what do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just, maybe he had a reason.”

Cyrus was unconvinced but decided to drop it. His focus was trying to hear his best friend and whatever TJ was to him, across a swarm of eighth graders.

***

“Cyrus is your friend and you let him down, TJ!” Buffy shouted, while TJ simply stood there, taking it, “What possible reason could you have for leaving behind a boy who showed up to school with a colander on his head, after you were the one who thought of the costume first? Did you see how upset he was after you two left? Of course, you didn’t, because you left! You left him all alone, while you were off galivanting with Kira, with whom, by the way, I didn’t even know you were friends! And all I want to know is why. And I’m sure Cyrus does, too,”

TJ stood in front of Buffy, still, for a moment, before muttering, “Kira made me,”

“She what?”

“Why am I even talking to you about this? I should be talking to Cyrus,”

“So why don’t you?”

“He hasn’t spoken to me since Costume Day, and I don’t even know what I would say,”

Buffy’s eyebrows furrowed, “Are you… scared, Kippen?”

TJ sighed and looked at the floor. “Kira said something to me after I told her about our somersault costume. She said, ‘So you’d rather do a costume with Cyrus, than with me? Good luck with that.’ And the way she said it, I just, didn’t know what to do or what to think. She made me feel bad about doing a costume with Cyrus and I can’t figure out why. I’d only met her the day before! I don’t even know her last name. You want to know why? So do I,”

“It’s almost as if she didn’t want you to do the costume with Cyrus because he’s a boy,” Buffy’s words faded away towards the end of her sentence. She looked up at TJ, who had worry filling his eyes as he took a very visible gulp.

“Oh,” she whispered, as his eyes made their way back to the floor, “You have to tell Cyrus about Kira. He’s torturing himself over this, TJ. He thinks it’s his fault you ditched him. He’s been beating himself up for being “too enthusiastic” about something that “could never happen”. He’s barely come outside since that day,”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Driscoll,”

“Of course, he does. He just doesn’t know it yet. But it’s your friendship’s funeral, Kippen. Do what you want. But Cyrus deserves to know.” Buffy turned on her heel to leave, but turned back to say one more thing, “Will you meet me in the gym after school? We have a game coming up and I want to practice my jump shots,”

“Uh… okay.” TJ replies, a slightly confused look on his face.

Buffy walked away with a smile and rejoined Andi and Cyrus.

“What did he say?” Cyrus asked, trying not to sound too eager.

Buffy looked towards the boy, “You should really talk to him, Cy,”

“Well, can’t you just tell me what he said? I don’t even know how I would begin a conversation. It’s been so long since I spoke to him,”

“I can’t tell you myself. It’s his explanation to… explain,”

Cyrus sighs and looks straight ahead, a slight pout across his face. Buffy and Andi share a look of disappointment but continue to walk next to the boy. It’s a silent journey to their next class. Just as they’re about to enter Buffy pulls Cyrus to the side, “Can you meet me in the gym after school? We have a game coming up and we really need practice. And… I really need moral support,”

“You got it,” Cyrus replied, stepping foot into the classroom.

***

“Is everyone usually this late?” Cyrus asked, scanning the empty room.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. It’s only,” she looked at her watch, “4:05,”

“You ready, Driscoll?” A voice said, followed by the sound of a bouncing ball, sending chills down Cyrus’ ack. He knew that voice.

“I’ll do my best but you’re not that ta—” TJ noticed the other boy and dropped the ball as well as his jaw. He waited for the bouncing to stop before saying, “Cyrus,” He looked at Buffy who nodded back at him, urging him to say something, anything. TJ looked back at Cyrus and took a deep breath, “Can I talk to you?”

Cyrus, still flustered, opens his mouth, but before he can elicit any sound another voice emerged, bringing Buffy’s blood to a boil, “TJ, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

TJ jumped at the sound of Kira’s voice and receded, taking a couple of steps back, towards Kira instead of Cyrus.

Cyrus angrily whispered to Buffy, “Why did you bring me here?” unable to take his eyes off TJ and Kira, his mouth scrunched up at the sight of them together.

The two parties stared at each other in complete silence until Cyrus broke it, “Listen, I don’t even know one side of what happened that day, and right now, I don’t know if I want to, but I’ll make you a deal,” Buffy looks at Cyrus, surprised, but Cyrus continues, “Kira and TJ? One on one. Buffy, you keep score. If TJ wins, I hear his side of things, but if Kira wins,” he paused, “I’ll leave you two to be and I won’t stand in your way again,” he glanced at TJ, silently hoping he would win.

***

Throughout the first half of the game Cyrus repeatedly asked Buffy to tell him what was happening because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand how the game worked. He did end up falling asleep halfway through, only to be awoken by a sweaty, panting TJ running towards him on the bleachers.

“Can we talk?” TJ asked, his words making their way through heavy breaths.

“That was the deal.”

***

Cyrus and TJ walked away, but Buffy still wasn’t done. She marched up to Kira. A fountain of words came out at full speed.

“You’re a terrible person, Kira. You had no right to manipulate TJ into standing Cyrus up. You’ve ruined a friendship that both of them care about so much. You have no idea how much damaged you’ve done. Cyrus hasn’t spoken to TJ since he showed up with you. He’s barely been hanging out with us. He even refused to eat baby taters the other day! Do you know how much he likes baby taters? Probably almost as much as he likes TJ,” Buffy scoffed, “I knew you were a bad person, but I didn’t expect you to be evil.”

“I did them a favour. Can’t you imagine what people would’ve said if they saw them in a costume together? I know you’re not stupid, Buffy. I know you can see what’s there between them. But I did it for their own good. Getting back at you was just a bonus.”

“You are just plain ignorant,” she said, her tone calm, I’m leaving. And I never want to see you again.”

Buffy walked out of the gym, consciously taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out.

Meanwhile, Cyrus and TJ had made their way to the locker room, where TJ sat Cyrus down on one of the benches, while he paced around, searching for the words to say, but it was Cyrus who began the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to do the costume anymore?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to do it, Cy. I was just… scared,”

“Of what?”

“Of this,” he gestured to the two of them, “of Kira telling people,”

“Telling them what? TJ, you’re scaring me,”

“I’m scaring me, too.”

Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows. This conversation was too familiar to him.

“Cyrus, I think I like you,” TJ held his breath in anticipation for the other boy’s response.

“Why does that have to be a secret? You’ve made amends with everyone important t—”

TJ looked at Cyrus. Right into his eyes. His hands were trembling, his breaths shaky. He couldn’t bring himself to say it again, so instead, he continued to stare, hoping Cyrus would understand, and then, Cyrus spoke, “Oh,”

“I’m sure you don’t feel the same way and you definitely don’t have to say it back. I just thought I owed you an explanation for running off without warning,” he rambled, not even pausing to take a breath.

“I get it,” Cyrus’ expression was unreadable.

TJ started walking away but Cyrus couldn’t let him leave. He gathered his thoughts as best he could and called, “No, wait, TJ!”

TJ turned around, anxiously waiting for Cyrus to complete his thought.

“I think I like you, too,”

“Oh,”

The locker room door swung open, followed by Buffy, still calming herself down. She looked towards the two boys, “You guys done here?”

Cyrus took his eyes off TJ and looked at Buffy, “Yeah,”

“Yeah,” followed TJ, stuttering.

“Cyrus, Jonah and Andi are probably waiting at The Spoon, we should go,” Buffy said. She noticed TJ’s bright red face and faint smile and turned towards him, “Do you want to come, too?”

The flustered boy kept his eyes on Cyrus but nodded aggressively. Buffy smiled and dragged the boys out of the room. There seemed to be no words left for them to say, so they sat in silence beside each other for the rest of the day, sharing intermittent glances between their baby taters and milkshakes.

And that was how it started.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 28: rock, paper, scissors, shoot

(okay, I finally gave up on this impossibly long chapter that was taking me forever to complete and split it into two chapters so I’d have something to show for myself after such a long break. so here’s the first part. my apologies if this approach makes for an underwhelming update. here goes... something.)

Monday, November 12th, 1990

That wasn’t so bad. I mean, we were all pretty loose, so there were plenty of fuck-ups, which would ordinarily make me crazy, but perfection wasn’t the point of this show. That was never the point. Andy wouldn’t have given a shit about it, anyway. He was always able to roll with absolutely anything that happened and pull it off as though he’d planned it the whole time. Even though we just stepped off the stage, I’ve already forgotten the finer details of what we played or how we sounded. It already feels like a dream that’s slipping away the moment you wake up and try to pin down what was so memorable about it. All I’m hanging onto is the feeling that it was fucking fun, that the people here understood why we did it. I think he would have loved it. 

And, bonus: at least I remembered to wear pants this time. Nothing worse than playing a show and looking down at your guitar halfway through to realize you forgot to put on pants and the whole room’s just staring at your underwear. Brutal. 

Pushing my way further and further out from the stage isn't helping me regain my sense of clarity. People keep clapping me on the back, talking to me as I move by them, but I don’t recognize anyone, and the crush of people just gets denser, hotter, less familiar. More striking than anyone’s features is the glare from the disco ball, which keeps fucking up my equilibrium and making it that much harder to focus. Everyone’s shouting, god, why is it so fucking loud in here? and it feels like someone’s calling me, but I can’t figure out who, or from where. Everyone’s voice kinda sounds like Charlie Brown’s parents… distorted, underwater… except for that nagging feeling that someone’s calling my name, clear as a bell, and I can’t figure out who… 

Until a hand, smaller, with fingers that somehow manage to feel chilly despite the stifling heat in this place, slips into mine, lacing our fingers tightly before pulling my arm nearly out of its socket, and I break into a smile. None of the faceless people around me indicate that the hand is theirs, but that’s okay, I know exactly whose it is as it makes every effort to pull me off my feet unless I finally start moving and follow it. That’s fair. You got me. We’ve stalled long enough. “Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” I offer again and again as I stumble through the herd, shouldering past strangers, laughing in delirium, squinting ahead to try to get a glimpse of her as she tows me in her wake, but I can’t see shit, so it’s a wasted effort, at least until we get a little farther out from the center of the crowd. Where are we even going? Ah, fuck it, just let it happen. I’ve got a good feeling about it.

Sure enough, the sea of people thins out just enough that I can see my own hand, holding tightly to the one directing me on a circuitous path all throughout the room, and I let my gaze follow up along the arm it’s attached to: the arm wearing a much-too-big green sweater with the cuffs rolled up, the long red hair swaying to the quick rhythm of her gait, occasionally allowing the smallest glint of a tiny, brass, star-shaped earring if she turns her head just slightly, so fleeting that there’s no way I’d know what shape it was unless I already knew it was there, but of course I do. My laughter gets louder, and she doesn’t turn around, but her voice floats over her shoulder and into my ears with perfect clarity, cutting through any other noise even though it’s barely above a whisper. 

“Shut up, Stone, let’s get out of here.” 

“This isn’t the way outside…” 

“Did I say it was?” 

She’s dragged me back toward the stage, or behind it, and we’re squeezing behind an amp and a partial curtain into the world’s tiniest alcove. I didn’t know this was even here… how did she even know this was here? How does she always know? It’s so dark behind the curtain that I can’t even see her anymore, but I don’t need to, not once her arms are wound around my neck and her lips are on mine. The outcome is inexorable. I’m not going to put up a fight. I’ve got her skirt tugged up to her hips… it’s always the same skirt, every time, and thank god for that… and she’s just begun to unbuckle my belt when deafening sirens assault my ears and break my concentration. What the fuck? Who called the cops? Wait a minute… this is the fucking Off Ramp, not some baby teenage all-ages show, a raid doesn’t even make any sense, unless… 

...it’s my alarm clock. Fuck. 

That’s the third time in a week I’ve had this exact same dream. I close my eyes and sink back into the pillow, trying to hang onto the fading vividness of it, while at the same time feeling like an absolute moron for savoring this ridiculous fantasy my subconscious is so fond of. We’re in such a weird place right now, me and Cora. Who knows what the hell's gonna happen at the show tomorrow night, but definitely not that. No way. I mean, not that I’d protest if it did, but I’m pretty sure she’s too busy pretending I don’t exist to have time to drag me into a darkened corner and have her way with me.

Jesus, we’ve really made a mess of this whole thing. I don’t think she said a single word to me last night. I kept trying to get her attention, but she acted like I wasn’t even there! I'd even planned to try to ditch everyone else at the end of the night so I could get her alone for thirty seconds, but after receiving her silent treatment, I chickened out. I'm not exactly proud of myself, but what would I have even said? That I’m sorry I’ve made everything so awkward lately, that I was hoping to slow things down between us just a little bit but not All The Way Down, that I really want to talk to her, that there’s no rush, that she just needs to tell me when she’s ready and I’ll be here? 

...wait, actually, that’s probably a pretty good idea… 

Enough of this shit. I pick up the phone and punch in her number, but the sound of her answering machine after the fourth ring takes the wind out of my sails. Still, I’ve got to say something, the tape’s already picked up… 

***

“Hey, Eddie!” 

“Huh? Oh, hey.” I look up from the hallway carpet pattern to acknowledge the person I almost ran into: a sweaty, panting Cora, obviously just back from a run and waiting for me to get out of the way of her door. “Sorry,” I offer as I edge over to the other side of the hallway and try to keep going. Of all the people to run into, the person I always accidentally say too much around is the worst case scenario right now. I can’t catch a fucking break.

“You’ve got the worst timing, you know that?” she grins as she fumbles for her door key. 

“What do you --” 

“Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s kind of comforting at this point. I just feel like I always run into you at the worst possible times, like, some kind of terrible shit’s just happened in my personal life, or I look like I’ve been dragged by a city bus for sixteen blocks,” she waves lazily at her appearance with her free hand, glancing over with that characteristic Cheshire Cat look still plastered on her face. “Don’t know if I’ve ever actually told you that, but you have the worst timing in the world. It’s like you have some kind of ‘not right now’ sensor.” 

“I can fucking relate,” I mutter bitterly, sidestepping past her. 

“Hey! Get back here!” 

Her shout sets my teeth on edge. I should just keep walking. I should just keep walking. I should just get in my fucking truck and start driving. But something makes me stop, turn, and stare at her shoes. 

“Look, Cora, it’s just not a good time, alright?” 

“You could have just said that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I just did.” 

“Well you don’t have to bite my head off about it, I’m not trying to keep you against your will! And not that it matters now, but I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got a funny way of paying people compliments.” 

“Don’t mind me, I’m still punishing you for calling me diplomatic.”

“Won’t make that mistake again.” 

She heaves a deep sigh, and I watch her sneakers shuffle as her posture shifts. “I meant it, Eddie, it’s always good to see you. Even when it’s not. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to start a fight, it just came out wrong.” 

“Yeah… okay. Look, I should probably be going…” 

“What’s going on, bud, you okay?” 

When I finally force myself to look up at her face, it’s creased with something more like concern than the hostility I’d expected, and I feel my shoulders drop from my ears. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been holding them there. I let my hands flex, aware now that they’d been balled up into fists. What an idiot. Of all the people I’d like to have a shouting match with right now, Cora’s pretty far down the list.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… tired. You’re the same way, you know? You’re always running into me in the wrong place at the wrong time too.” I try for a smile, but it must be a pretty pitiful attempt, because it makes her crack up into that slightly husky laugh of hers.

“Terrible timing is our superpower, I guess.” 

“Guess so,” I concede, except to me, it’s not really all that terrible. The thing about this woman is that she always turns the wrong place at the wrong time into someplace that’s worth inhabiting. She always manages to pick me up and dust me off and make me feel like everything’s going to be okay. I have no idea how she does that, but I’m not about to try to admit it to her right now. 

“So you’re fleeing town, I take it?” 

“What?” 

One eyebrow shoots up. “Your bag?” 

“Oh. Uh, no, I'm driving back to San Diego tonight. To get the rest of my stuff." I wave my little duffel bag forward like a white flag, a plea for forgiveness after having been such a grouchy bastard.

"Didn't you already do that?" 

“Well, I did one trip, yeah, but not everything fit in my truck the first time, so my buddy’s been holding onto some of it for me. And… uh, Beth called him this weekend, she found some of my stuff mixed in with hers, you know, records and some other things I actually want back, so I kinda feel like I should…" 

"Oh." 

"Yeah."

“Is she gonna meet you to give it back, or...?”

“No, that’s the kicker, she gave it all to him already, said there wasn’t any point in us seeing each other.” 

“Fuck. That’s kind of harsh.” 

“You’re telling me.”

“And will this be another pharmacologically enhanced journey?” She mimes hand tremors. 

“Nah, I’ll be good.” 

“‘Good’ being defined as someone who pulls over onto the side of the road to take a nap like a normal human being, right? So I don’t have to delve into the dark arts and resurrect you from the dead just to kill you for being a fucking impulsive idiot, right?” The tremors start creeping toward my throat menacingly, and I can’t help laughing as I try to bat them away.  

“On my idiot honor.” 

“K. Good to know I still terrify you,” she nods approvingly as she drops her hands. 

She does terrify me. Yet another thing I can’t admit. You’d have to be a much more committed idiot than me not to recognize Stone’s feelings for her, and I’m not about to let this little fascination of mine make waves with my new bandmate. It’s just a phase. A phase with the worst timing in the world.

“But hey, this means you’ll have to fill me in on every detail of the show tomorrow night,” I plead. 

“Uh huh.” Cora starts fidgeting with her keys again. 

“You’re going, aren’t you?” 

“Uh, I haven’t decided. I have a lot of work to do this week, and extra shifts at Cyclops to make up for last week, and…” 

“...and I’m pretty sure both Chris and Stone will never forgive you if you don’t go, and neither will I, since I need the full report, so just accept your fate already.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps defiantly, but her face is pure mischief again as she opens her door and looks up. “Want me to earn some bad karma in exchange for Beth’s while you’re gone? I could put her number inside the mens’ bathroom door at the Off Ramp? You know, ‘for a good time, call...’”

My jaw drops, but I can’t stop myself from laughing. “Don’t! That’s diabolical!”

“Or maybe I could interest you in a donation to the Seattle Zoo in her honor?” 

“A charitable contribution? Not that I’m arguing, but how exactly is that karmic justice?” 

“They might be willing to name their most disgusting sea slug after her? Come to think of it, I don’t know the going rate for christening a sea slug, but it can’t be that expensive, right?” 

“Ha, you sound like you’ve given this revenge concept a fair amount of thought…” 

“Oh, never mind, you’re probably one of those boring decent human being types who takes the best revenge by falling in love again and being all happy and living some kind of long, fulfilling life, huh?” 

I study my own shoes this time, trying not to smile too crazily. “One can only hope.” 

“Drive safe, bud. I’ll miss you at the show.” 

One last Cheshire Cat grin is visible along her profile before she disappears into her apartment. With a big sigh, I continue my trajectory down the stairs and back into the mess of my old life. At least now I’ve got some more uplifting thoughts to mull over on my long drive. 

***

Only after a horrifically wasteful long, hot shower do I notice the light on my answering machine. Hmph. I wonder how many messages have racked up since whenever the last time was that I checked it. I haven't been home a lot lately, thanks to playing catch-up everywhere else -- the lab, the cafe, my friendships… at least, those friendships that seem to miss me… at any rate, it’s probably good for me to be away from this apartment as much as I can. It feels so alien now. Sterile. It probably mostly feels that way because I’ve been cleaning it obsessively whenever I have any downtime, but it’s hard to ignore how silent living alone is. I’ve never had to do that before. I used to think I’d be really good at living alone, I mean, Alex was hardly ever around when he did live here, so what difference does it make now that he’s moved out? Logically, it shouldn’t matter at all, but the bewildering vastness of a double bed that’s officially single-occupancy, the sink that stays clean after I do the dishes, the gap-toothed voids on the shelves where his things used to be, all team up to make the absence unmistakable. It’s too quiet and too clean here without him. Not that having him around would make my life any better. I don’t really miss him, but there’s this weird Alex-shaped hole in my life now. 

It feels forbidden to push play on the answering machine, like I’m making too much noise in church, but I have a sudden and violent need to fill this place with something different.  

A sharp, throat-clearing cough is the first sound that greets my ears. Recognizing instantly who the cough came from, I freeze up and start to chew my nails. 

"Hey, Cora, uh, sorry, guess you already left… I only tried calling this early because I figured you'd still be at home. Uh…" 

As Stone fumbles his words, I feel an intense desire to scoop each one up and hold onto them, turn them over in my hands, inspect them, stash them in my pockets for safekeeping. I really miss the sound of his stupid voice. 

"I was… I was actually hoping to talk to you last night, but y'know, with everyone around, I didn't want to…"

He trails off as though his meaning is obvious, but I want to reach through the phone and rattle him by his bony shoulders. WHAT? You didn't want to what? What couldn’t you say with everyone around? Why couldn’t you just shake them off and come back? Why can't you just say it now? Spit it out, Stoner! 

"Anyway, I just wanted to call and make sure you were coming to the show tomorrow. It's just… it's not a big deal or anything, it's just kind of a big deal to me that you're there, you know?" 

Oh. I mean, obviously, that was all it was. Just calling around to make sure people show up tomorrow night. I'm sure he and the guys have all been making the rounds. I shouldn't have expected anything different, honestly. I bet he called every single person he knows. 

But is it a big deal to him that every single person he knows is there? Or is it just a big deal that I’m there? 

God, I need to get over myself, why would it matter to him if I’m there? That’s not the reason I should go to the show. I should go to support him. To support all of them. My friends. That’s what tomorrow’s about. It’s not about… whatever this is… or was, or… what is it now, anyway? I wish I could just talk to him about it, I wish… 

I run out of time to angst, because his perfunctory message wraps up and I’m just contemplating saving this tape so I can replay it over and over to continue my obsessive analysis when the next message starts. A dry voice, with dry information. It’s the women’s health clinic I went to last week. My test results came back all clear, and they’re just calling to double-check the address of the pharmacy where I want my birth control prescription renewed. This set of sentences layers over top of the fresh memory of Stone’s voice in a way that makes my stomach fill with butterflies. Juvenile, maybe, but not unwelcome. But the next sound on the tape dissolves the butterflies in a churn of acid. 

“Hey, C….” Alex’s voice drapes itself over the tape in his usual bored, lazy tone. He’s overdoing it. It makes me wince. “How’s things?”

He waits, like he’s expecting an answer, and the silence in the apartment feels even more uncomfortable now that it’s been broken by his voice again. “I was just calling to give you my new number, if you want it, it’s --” 

I don’t. I don’t! Why the hell would I want your new number? 

“It’s, uh, well, it’s the number at Cindy’s place, I… I’m living here now, we, uh... just, if you need to find me for any reason.” 

I won’t. There’s no reason, ever, not ever. Get out of here, get out, stop talking, get out of my apartment…

“Uh, I think I saw you at the grocery store the other day. You looked… you looked really good. At least I’m pretty sure it was you. Heh, it’s hard to miss all that beautiful red hair. I didn’t want to come up and say hi, I figured I’d just be bothering you, but I just wanted you to know… you looked great. Seeya round, C.” 

The last message ends. I look down at the small cassette in my hands, already ejected from the machine with its ribbon unspooled and crushed in my fist, wondering dimly how it got there so fast. It’s not important now. There’s something else I need to take care of. My numb fingers deposit the tape in the trash, grab the kitchen scissors, and let down my soaking wet hair on the way to the bathroom. 

***

Tuesday, November 13th, 1990

“What’s on your mind?” 

I glance over at Jeff as we walk back to our building from the court, trying not to beam too openly as he goofs off with the ball and showcases a Globetrotters spin on his index finger. I’m not sure what the statute of limitations is for harboring a rampant schoolgirl crush on your own boyfriend, but it hasn’t expired yet. He always thinks these games of one-on-one basketball are his idea and that I’m just humoring him by playing along. But the truth is that I’ll gladly soak up any opportunity to marvel at the spectacle of him showing off. I’m dating an athlete? A tall, gorgeous, kind, sensitive, artistic athlete? What parallel universe am I in? Guys like Jeff are never interested in me. It still doesn’t feel real.

“I still can’t believe you let me win.” 

“I still can’t believe you don’t believe me. I got my ass handed to me back there! And I’m not talking about the groping,” he adds as my hand pats around to make sure his ass is still in place. 

“You’re a liar, Ament. I love you for it, but you’re a damn dirty liar.” 

“Am not. You’re just a way better ball-handler than I’ll ever be.” 

“I was talking about the basketball game.” 

“So was I… mostly.” 

“God, you have a one-track mind.” 

“At least you always know what’s on it. So?”

Jeff tucks the basketball under one arm and snakes the other arm around my waist. I always have to stretch out my stride to keep up with him when we walk this way, but it’s worth it to be able to lean into his solid, reassuring frame. Even if we’re both in bad need of a shower before his show tonight. Not that I’m complaining about that being next on our agenda.

“So what?” 

“So, moving in together. Have you given it any more thought or not?” 

Damn it. I knew he was going to bring it up again eventually, I mean, in fairness, I’ve left him no choice. I’ve acted for a week like he never said anything, and he’s been a gentleman not to hassle me about it. I was just kinda hoping he could keep being gentlemanly and stolid about it forever and save me the trouble of ever making up my mind. 

“Of course I have.” 

“And? What do you think?”

“I think…I need more time to think about it.” 

He deflates against my shoulder. “What’s to think about? You love me, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“We spend all our time together.” 

“As much as humanly possible.” I snuggle him tighter, hoping to squeeze more confidence into him. 

“This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in, I don’t plan on it ever ending.” 

“Well that’s good, because you’re definitely stuck with me.” 

“So? Moving in’s the next logical step.” 

“But just because something’s the next logical step, doesn’t mean you have to take it right away, right?” 

“...no…” 

“I mean, why mess with a good thing? What if we move in together and it screws the whole dynamic up, and we suddenly realize we hate each other?” 

Jeff stops in his tracks. “Do you think that’s likely?” 

“No! No, I’m not saying that’ll happen, just… everything’s so good right now, why do we need to change it?” I tug on his tree-like midsection to get him to start walking again, and he obliges. 

“Because what if the change is even better? Isn’t it a much more likely scenario that we’ll be really good at this whole living together thing?” 

“Sure.” 

“So why not just do it?” he huffs, sounding increasingly frustrated as we turn the last street corner and our building looms into view, as if it’s eavesdropping on our conversation. 

“I… just… I don’t know, if it isn’t broken…” 

“But we hardly ever spend time separately in our own apartments when we’re both home.” 

“No, but it’s kinda nice that we have the option…” 

“Is paying rent twice really worth the option? Is it that important to you to be able to get away from me?” 

“Hey! Don’t do that.” I’m the one who stops dead this time, dropping my arm from his waist. “It’s not about wanting to get away from you, I just… I like having the option to keep my own space, to change my mind if we need to blow off steam, or --” 

“God, Lucy, you’re so…”

“So what??” 

“So… stubborn! It’s the exact same with work! You hate your job, you know you want to do something else, you even know what you want that something else to be, you have a career path all picked out, so why don’t you fuckin’ go after it?” 

“Uhhh, because it’s a lot of additional classes and loans? And I’ve only been out of school a couple years and I’m enjoying not being a student for the first time ever? And my job may be boring but it pays well? And it’s fine for now, and I like the way my life is now? And it’s none of your damn business and you have no right to pressure me?” 

His face crumples in on itself, and I instantly feel horrible for unloading on him like that, even though he gave as good as he got. When he speaks again, his voice is more subdued. 

“I’m sorry, babe, I just… I don’t get it. I don’t get not going for the things you want, I don’t get wasting time if you want to change a situation, I don’t… I just don’t get it.”

I do. Well, I get where he’s coming from, at least. I know how many times he’s had the rug pulled out from under him when he worked hard for something he wanted. I know he’s lost people he’s close to. I know where this carpe diem thing comes from. But just because I get it, that doesn’t mean I have to abide by the same code. What if my version of carpe diem looks different than his? I wish he could get that into his head. But I’m turned inside out from our first real fight, so spitting out any kind of coherent explanation feels impossible. 

“I know. Just give me a little more time.” 

Jeff nods, accepting defeat, or at least a truce, and we plod up the stairs together in silence. I decide to stop at the third floor and let him go on to the fourth, because if ever there was a time to take advantage of having separate corners to cool down in, it’s now. We’re going to the show at separate times anyway. He doesn’t argue. He just shrugs and heads on without me. 

But I don’t key into my own place. I listen to his footsteps, wait for the sound of a door upstairs, count to ten, take a deep breath, and start up after him. This whole issue is so fucking stupid, why are we fighting about it? Obviously I love him and he loves me, and this is just a dumb misunderstanding of each other's priorities. I should just go spit it out, right? He'll understand, right?

Instead, I find myself stopped short in front of Cora's door. I know I should go talk to Jeff, but no one understands me quite like she does, and I really just want a sympathetic ear. As usual, her door is unlocked, and as usual, I let myself in like I live here, basking in the familiarity, in the reassurance of a known quantity, until… 

“Oh… my god… Cora... WHAT the FUCK did you do with your hair????”

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - Summer 2019

Hey, look who finished the season perfectly on time, even if he did so by dropping a bunch of stuff last minute! (Technically, as of writing, I haven’t finished Re:Stage Dream Days, but you can rest assured that it’s bad.)

I thought I was going to do a first impressions rundown video for the entire season at once, since my impression posts don’t tend to get a lot of engagement anyway, but since I didn’t end up going through with it, I’ll summarize my point - summer started strong, and even here at the end, I can easily say it’s the best season thus far in what’s largely been a letdown year for seasonal anime (and a god damn renaissance for long shows, thanks to My Hero Academia, so if I seem down on a season that had Dororo, or Vinland Saga, or Fruits Basket, remember that I exclude those shows from my considerations until the end of the year).

This season saw several high-profile continuations like A Certain Scientific Accelerator, Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls In a Dungeon II, and Symphogear XV, but also new works by creators like Mari Okada, and anticipated adaptations of Astra: Lost in Space and Arifureta: From Commonplace to World’s Strongest, and in the end, well...a lot of those were mixed bags at best, but the biggest drawback I will remember Summer 2019 for is that it was drowning in bad isekai shows. The aforementioned Arifureta, the basically-counts Danmachi, and also Isekai Cheat Magician, Do You Love Your Mom and Her Two-Hit Multi-Target Attacks, The Lost Ones, Demon Lord Retry!...it just never ended, and that’s not even counting If It’s For My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord. 

Speaking of all that stuff, let’s get right into it, yeah?

28 shows were simulcast this season, and of those, I…

Skipped 4:

Yami Shibai 7, Starmyu Season 3, A Certain Scientific Accelerator, and Lord El-Melloi II Case Files: Rail Zeppelin Grace Note were all skipped because I have not watched the previous series.

Dropped 15:

Worst of the Season: If It’s For My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord!

I dropped this after one episode because I found the aesthetic and tone to be aggressively boring and I found even the cute daugheroo character to be utterly generic in execution...and then later found out oh boy was I right to drop it, based on how many people compared it to the Bunny Drop manga that we don’t talk about. *shudders*

Arifureta: From Commonplace to World’s Strongest

Wins the “biggest tryhard” award for being just the most straightforward an SAO award gets, right up to being grimdark for dumb reasons. The first episode alone had inconsistent animation, and that just did not bode well for the future...and the plot instantly reminded me of Slime, which soured on me over time. I let this one go sour after one shot.

Demon Lord, Retry!

The blandest of beige this season, Demon Lord had neither the story nor the production values to reel me in or convince me it was anything but the Overlord wannabe it so clearly was.

Isekai Cheat Magician

This show was a pretty transparent attempt to have an isekai story with a childhood friend romance plot, and while I’m fine with one and a half of those things, it couldn’t execute them in any decent way by the end of the first episode, and just wound up being largely boring.

Wasteful Days of High School Girls

Speaking of boring, what if Nichijou wasn’t funny? You’d get something like this.

Do You Love Your Mom and Her Two-Hit Multi-Target Attacks?

So the tone this one ultimately ended up having was pretty much exactly what I expected after the premiere - it leaned too hard on jokes that weren’t as funny as it thought they were, and too hard on the dumb hentai mom trope, and neither of those things interested me in the slightest. Pretty okay with having left this off the watchlist.

The Ones Within

I have stated multiple times in the last few weeks that Symphogear is great because it can convince you that it’s a work of genius. The Ones Within has, unfortunately, convinced itself that it’s deep social commentary of some kind, rather than a bargain-bin Danganronpa with no real thought put into it.

Are You Lost?

I’m amazed that we got another Eromanga Sensei this season and it flew entirely under the radar. For God’s sake, the first episode featured a young teenage girl eating a bug and drinking her own urine. I just didn’t see myself being particularly entertained by the shock value longer than the premiere.

Ensemble Stars (4/10)

I can’t tell if this one is actually over, but Funimation’s site doesn’t list any new episode premieres coming up, so I’m gonna assume it is? I gave this one a shot and hung onto it because it took UtaPri’s premise and gave it the slightly more serious tone I was looking for, but dropped it after the second episode started to drown us in side characters with no hint that the floodgates were closing, rather than giving ample screentime to a select cast so they could actually become at least two-dimensional before throwing in more people we’re supposed to care about.

BEM

BEM suffered from an unfortunate lack of distinct personality, which sucks when it seems to have had a decent story to tell. Nothing else about the show wound up sticking out to me, though, which has me fully convinced that Production I.G.’s name is only on this to boost recognition, and the second-billed LandQ studios did the majority of the work. And their best-known other show is Swordgai. So...

To The Abandoned Sacred Beasts (5/10)

I have gotten absolutely no pushback so far for my decision to tear into this show because it should have been a different show, so I’m gonna take that as a general agreement of my earlier statement. What a waste of a concept.

Cop Craft (5/10)

This one I still think I was not crazy to pick up after the first episode, because it wasn’t until the third that the animation tanked hard and the pacing went absolutely nuts, and apparently stayed that way. Did they write a thirty-nine-episode story that had to be condensed into twelve or something?

Magical Sempai

This one I probably would have kept watching if the majority of its humor wasn’t just the title character embarrassing herself in lewd ways. It was funny, but I didn’t see myself enjoying anything more than one episode of it.

GRANBELM (6/10)

This one I got halfway through before realizing that, during my end-of-season catchup, I had absolutely no desire to return to. The plot didn’t really start moving until the fifth episode, and in that time I had not gotten particularly invested in the characters, especially since the show makes fun of the viewer for thinking that the big mecha dream battles actually had stakes beyond “you don’t get to be The Thing”. At least it looked nice and the mecha designs were very original.

Are you willing to fall in love with a pervert, as long as she’s a cutie?

There were four shows this season with questions for titles. Just saying! This one actually had me hooked right up until the end, revealing that not only is it a fanservice show, but a fetish pandering one. That being said, if I were attracted to women, I could have seen myself getting something out of it, what with the decently moody tone and good production values.

I put 2 On Hold:

Is It Wrong to Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon? II

I’ll probably come back to this when the third series comes around, just to give it one more chance to pull me back in, but ditching my favorite character for harem antics and character shilling just did not endear me to this long-awaited sequel.

Re:Stage Dream Days!!

This one’s not actually on hold, but I don’t have any other good place to mention it. This one I’m gonna make it through just on willpower, not because it’s good, but because it starts out as the most shameless rip-off I’ve ever seen in anime, specifically of Love Live!.

And I Finished 7:

Kochoki (5/10)

I thought I was gonna give this one a 7 at least, for nearly the whole season, for being a decently-told and somewhat new telling of Nobunaga’s early life with great production values for Studio Deen...right up until the structure fell completely apart at the end, almost completely out of nowhere. I’m still in awe of the gall this show had to literally skip over the final battle.

How Heavy Are The Dumbbells You Lift? (8/10)

This one came right the fuck out of nowhere and totally blew my expectations out of the way from the very first episode. Looking at the summary, I was convinced I was gonna drop this after the premiere...and found myself totally hooked by its cheery visual presentation and excellent sense of meta-comedy, not to mention its genuine educational value.

Astra: Lost In Space (8/10)

One of two adaptations I was really looking forward to this season (along with Fire Force), Astra was pretty much what I expected - a very good translation of a very good manga that ran for the perfect amount of time to be divided into twelve-ish episodes. A fantastic and memorable cast of characters enhanced a surprisingly twisty story, and Lerche made it all look just as good as I’d hoped.

The Demon Girl Next Door (8/10)

Speaking of defying my expectations, another show I was expecting pretty much nothing from, maybe one I could compare to Gabriel Dropout or something, that was instead an incredibly charming story of a girl trying to save her family by defeating a magical girl...with a very, very loose definition of the word “defeat” in play. I couldn’t have asked for much more from this one, aside from maybe a sequel?

Given (9/10)

Speaking of “Lerche” and “gorgeous”, this profoundly gripping story of a spacecase and a loner hesitantly making music together blossomed further and further as it went on, and became my new go-to reference point for explicit gay relationships in anime. It went where even Yuri On Ice!!! couldn’t, and left me desperate for a Part Two.

O Maidens In Your Savage Season (9/10)

My write up for this show was one of my longest in recent memory, and I stand by it - even if Okada had to write a few plot contrivances in to get where she’s going, at least she presented her cast in an incredibly thoughtful way and gave them a satisfying payoff, with the knowledge that they’re teenagers and all of their problems can’t be solved in one semester. The high water mark for discussions of sexuality in this medium.

BEST OF THE SEASON: Symphogear XV (9/10)

Anime is wonderful, and so am I.

So that wraps up summer! We’ve got a lot to look forward to in fall, even if My Hero Academia and Food Wars’ fourth series will both ultimately end up on a list in the distant future next year. Will Psycho-Pass 3 redeem the series? Will Azur Lane be better than Kantai Collection? Will Beastars beat Aggretsuko as the biggest furry panderer of the year? Only time will tell. And then I’ll tell you all what I think it said.

[terezawolfintuitive-blog]

Why I’ve Decided To Be Single For A Year

Recently I finally pulled the plug and decided that 2020 was going to be the year of being single. The year of not tying myself down to a man, the year of not wasting time on swiping left, right, left, right on every dating app across the internet, the year of following my own personal goals and the year of finally learning how to not only survive but THRIVE without male attention. Simply put, the year of being Tereza and not giving a single fuck about not having a romantic partner to share my life with.  

I decided to list down all the reasons as to WHY I am making this decision, not only to share this part of my life with you but to also have physical proof of why I am doing this to help keep myself accountable on this lonely cold winter nights when my ego wants to falsely convince me that downloading Tinder and getting myself some instant gratification from the next available stranger on the internet is a good idea (hint hint: it’s not).

Now, before we got onto the list of the actual reasons, please note that despite sarcastically joking about dating apps throughout this blog post, I actually have nothing against meeting people online. I think it’s a wonderful way to meet others and form connections and relationships and know many people who are in happy relationships thanks to online dating (including two of my best friends). However, I believe that this form of 'looking' for your happily after only works if you’re really ready to share your life with someone (and have both taken responsibility for and healed your own toxic patterns)… and despite all the spiritual and intuitive healing I’ve done on myself over the past two years since my awakening, to put it simply, I am not ready.  

Recently I’ve gone through the realisation that wanting to be ready and ACTUALLY being ready are two completely different things. It doesn’t matter how badly we want it and how much we try to force it if there are things that we know we need to work on further healing first, it’s just not going to happen… or, if it does, you’ll find yourself crying on the kitchen floor at 3am, crying your eyes out, begging the wrong man to not leave you (been there, done that).

2020 is the year of finally accepting that no matter how much spiritual work I’ve done and the fact that I continue to facilitate healing for others within my business, I still have a lot of work to do in terms of not only healing my past romantic relationships before allowing myself to enter another one but to also continue working on and bettering the most important relationship of my life - the one with myself.

So, without any further ado, here are my 5 reasons of why I’ve decided to ditch dating and am dedicating 2020 to loving ME…

1) I have more healing to do before tying myself down to another human being. This one is a tough one because despite knowing that there’s more work to do, the desire for a romantic connection doesn’t simply go away overnight. It takes daily effort and practice to remind yourself that despite craving something, you are simply not ready. Your soul might be ready for that magical, instant-spark connection that you’ve been waiting your entire life for, but your human self needs more time to catch up first. One thing I am learning to accept this year is that there’s no shame in admitting that there’s more self-development work to do - it’s actually really brave to admit that you’re not perfect, that you are human and that you are willing to do whatever it takes to continue becoming the best possible version of yourself.

2) I have bigger goals to achieve than looking for the next man. One of my biggest goals of 2019 was to get myself a boyfriend, fall in love and live 'happily ever after'. Knowing what you want and going after it is an amazing quality to have, however, the second I entered my last relationship at the beginning of 2019, most of my personal and business goals went out the window. A part of me still feels ashamed to admit this, but it’s true. The high and thrill of new love on the horizon completely blinded my ego and made me forget about why I was actually here and the goals and dreams I’ve set myself to achieve this past year. Suddenly, all that mattered was the person sleeping next to me and how happy and fulfilled THEY felt. The way I see it, I can either regret the time I “wasted” (I didn't actually waste any time because I’ve learned a fuck tun throughout my time with my ex-boyfriend) or I can learn from my own toxic patterns and make sure that the goals I set out for myself to achieve in 2020 are even bigger and better than the previous year - and that I actually give myself a fair chance of achieving them without losing myself in another person.  3) My soul knows it’s time to move on. This one took me a while to accept myself, but when I finally did, I felt happier than I have the whole of 2019. When I first moved to Bournemouth, I absolutely loved everything about it. The nightlife, the lifestyle, as well as the "14 miles of beautiful sandy beaches right at your doorstep" (well, not literally… despite what the tourist guide tells you). However, the more time passes by, the more clear it becomes to my soul that she’s ready for a new adventure. It has always been my biggest dream to move to and make a life for myself in London. In 2020, this is a number one priority for me and the vision that’s kept me going through some of the darkest times of my life when my last relationship ended. Some of my closest friends still don’t understand why I’d ever want to live in London out of all places. “Isn’t it too expensive?” “How are you going to afford to live in Central London?” “Have you lost your mind?!” Well… yes, maybe. I have, however, also found myself in the process. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe the feeling I get as I arrive at Waterloo Station while “Waterloo” from Mama Mia 2 blasts through my headphones. It’s a soul knowing unlike any other that THIS is where I am meant to be, period. It’s become clear to me that by living in this magical city I will benefit from even more opportunities to serve others and truly take my spiritual and creative game to the next level. So, despite what anybody says, crazy or not… I am going for it. Therefore, knowing that it’s become my number one priority to move and I do not desire a "long-distance" relationship, it doesn’t feel aligned for me to start a new romance where I am at at the moment, not only within my healing journey but also geographically speaking. In the words of Abba, 'Couldn't escape if I wanted to, knowing my fate is to be with you, finally facing my Waterloo.'

4) I’ve decided to fully devote myself to my mission. It took me 24 years to figure out what I truly wanted out of life and for the first time in my life, I can honestly, with real certainty, say that I know what I want out of life and what my mission is. This new-found clarity of mine has enabled me to get really certain of what the next steps I need to take are and HOW I am going to get to where I ultimately want to be. The way I see it, I can either fully invest into my next career moves and make sure I am truly following what my soul came here to do, or invest halfway and put the other half into a relationship that I know I am not ready for in the first place and delay fully surrendering to my mission. I 100% believe that you can have both an amazing relationship and a thriving career, but I am also certain of where I want to be career-wise before investing time into another relationship and I am just not there *yet*.

5) I deserve to fall in love with myself first. I deserve to feel head over heels in love with myself first before giving my love, compassion and attention to another human being. After my last relationship ended I did not understand why, despite all the love and compassion I offered the other person, things came crashing down. Flash news, it was because I never gave myself the opportunity of receiving the same amount of love from myself first. Had I known how to fully love myself first, body, mind and soul, I would have walked away from the relationship a long time before it actually came crumbling down because it simply wasn’t aligned for my soul to be a part of this specific union. This way, by falling in love with myself first, I will be entering my next relationship with utmost certainty that IF things turn sour again or I am met with a situation that’s trying to teach me how to set clear boundaries with the people in my life and release whatever no longer serves me, I have the power to leave and continue aligning with something and someone even better for my soul.

2020 is the year of self-love, baby, and I am SO excited about what it’s got in store for us!  

[hoseokmylovesworld]

Picture of Love | 12 (M)

Pairing: Photographer!Hoseok x OC x Producer!Yoongi

Genre/Warnings: Hoseok AU/Yoongi AU/Includes strong language, fluff, smut, dirty talk, praise kink

Words: 6,938

Summary: Charlotte Galloway is the leader of the up and coming girl band, “She-Bang”, with a side hustle as a photographer for anyone who will hire her.  She meets a fellow professional photographer named Jung Hoseok who helps “She-Bang” realize their dreams and Charlotte to make a love connection along the way.

I lay in bed with Hoseok in his apartment, relishing in our after-sex stupor. I think about the fact that I've just had the best sex of my life with one of the most wonderful people I've ever met, I smile contently and I consider myself incredibly lucky. I'm comfortable in his arms that are wrapped snugly around me, his head resting on my chest and our legs tangled together seamlessly like something out of a painting.

But I can't shake the feeling that I'm not supposed to be here.

As in still  here.

I haven't spent the night with any of my past partners since him. It felt foreign, wrong almost to stay with anyone else through the night in the beginning. Then it basically became law that I always had to ditch my partner and flea the scene or kick them out after sex. Then again, I've never had feelings for any of them... until now.

Looking down at Jay's peaceful figure, I wondered if it would be so bad if I did stay. We could have breakfast together and waking up to this face first thing doesn't seem like a bad thing in the slightest.

But when I attempt to get comfortable and settle in for the night, the anxieties  that haunt me daily decide to pay me a visit.

You need to go.

Nothing has changed.

You're still the same Char that no one wants to spend the night with.

You're not good enough for him anyway and you know it.

You're better off leaving.

Nothing good will come of this.

You're ruining everything, just go!

I attempt to combat the hammering of my heart, and impending panic attack, with hurriedly getting out of bed and making my way out of the apartment somehow. Next time.

I untangle myself from Hoseok's grasp somewhat gently and immediately search for my clothes in the dark room only lit up by moonlight, all while trying to slow my breathing. I got my underwear, bra and skirt on when I heard Hoseok stirring on the bed, but I pay it no mind, focused on escaping.

"Are you leaving?" His groggy voice travels through the room, frightening me slightly, causing me to lose my balance. I regain my footing crookedly, but quickly.

"Uh... Yeah." I work my shirt back over my head and then my arms. Jay gets out of bed and begins the search for his clothes in the dark room as well. Fuck.

"Any particular reason?" He asks, putting on his underwear then his jeans.

"I-I don't wanna, uh, impose or....anything, I guess." I say, spitting out the first thing that came to my mind. Jay pauses in buttoning his shirt, head cocking to the side in confusion.

"That's absurd, Charlotte. You would not be imposing at all." He comes to stand in front of me and puts both hands on my arms and squeezes gently.

"I want you to stay." He says, looking me in the eye with something akin to adulation and I'm forced to look away at the burst of warmth spreading through my chest.

"Hah, I'm sorry... the girls need me back actually." I lie again. Anything to escape this and avoid having a panic attack in front of J-Hope. His shoulders drop disappointedly and his face fixates into a glum smile like he can see right through me.

"Oh, okay then....Let me drive you back then." He offers, attempting to look presentable in the mirror.

"Oh, that's okay, I can just call an uber. I'll be fine-" I scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous." He approaches me again, this time wrapping his arms around my waist and dragging me to him so that our foreheads almost touch. I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck in turn, not being able to help myself. He was just so irresistible.

"I can take you there free of charge and..." He kisses me sweetly on the lips, causing me to swoon slightly. "I can make sure you get there safely." I laugh at his cheesy actions.

"You know, you can check in now on this device called a cell phone." He smiles charmingly, coming back with "Well, you know what they say. 'If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.' So get ready before I drag you back to bed." He captures my lips once more, delivering a swift slap to my backside before running off in search of his shoes. I yelped, not seeing that coming at all. Frozen, I watch him to exit the room, throwing a sly smirk over his shoulder before he disappeared from my sight. "Fucker." I whisper before following suit.

After I grab my jacket and put on my shoes, I'm escorted to Jay's Range Rover and we take the ten minute drive in, unexpectedly, comfortable silence. J-Hope even holds my hand halfway through the ride and there is an unspoken understanding that tonight has enhanced our bond significantly.

I'm reminded that we only met over two weeks ago. Yet, I've come to the realization that I am completely taken with this man. Tonight's events convince me that he feels the same way and I am only slightly alarmed at how fast things are moving. Progress.

The proof is in the fact that I was completely calm....Well I was pretty giddy, but there were no freak outs, no panicking. I call that a job well done.

I have little time to celebrate my victory as we approach the hotel. When we come to a stop, Jay takes my hand and kisses the top of it. "Thank you for tonight Charlotte, I had a wonderful time." He shares sincerely.

"Of course you did, you were with me." I tease him.

"You're right, that is a given, haha... I just wish you could have stayed." He addresses, softly.

I reach up to stroke his cheek with my thumb. "Me too, Jay." I say longingly, wishing that I didn't have to suffer like this because of my own anxieties. Staying the night with someone I feel strongly for seemed fun and easy until it all came down to it. "Next time." I assure him with a nod.

"I will have to take you up on that." He glances at my lips briefly before capturing them in a not-so-gently kiss that turns me on with every lingering second. Suddenly he pulls away completely, sitting back in his seat.

"Goodnight, Charlotte." He says innocently.

I just eye him in a cold, but playful manner. "Really?" I deadpan.

"What?" He smirks dropping the act. "You shoulda stayed." He shrugs.

"Fucking tease." I unlock the door to get out when Jay grabs my arm.

"Hey, next time." He pulls me into one last peck and says one last goodnight.

"Goodnight, J-Hope." I offer, still feeling a little bitter about the fun had at my expense, but couldn't fight the smile that graced my face after that kiss.

I couldn't help, but replay tonight's events in my mind. A shit eating grin unable to leave my face all of a sudden as I enter the hotel room full of sleep deprived young girls.

Vicky, Leyah and Carrie's heads all snapped from the television to the door from their spot on my bed in the dark, sporting shit eating grins of their own. They stood at attention when I flipped the switch to illuminate the room.

"Daayuum!" Is the first word out of Vicky's mouth when she got a good look at me. Her and Carrie's eyes were insanely wide on me, while Leyah only smirked, her shoulders shaking with laughter and her head shook slowly, but not in disapproval.... I don't think.

"What? I just walked in." I defend, looking around cluelessly.

"Sis, have you seen your neck?!" Vicky explains. Oh.

I sigh in realization. "Uh, no. I haven't actually." I go to hang up my jacket and find pajamas as usual. "Well, you should." She adds, Carrie nods in agreement.

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad." I say, travelling to the bathroom to change. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I do a double take and gasp in shock. Nearly the whole of my neck and chest was covered in hickies, big and small in every direction. Frankly, I was impressed he covered this much ground in that time. I run my finger along one at the very front and wince slightly. It's like I was attacked by a vampire. That's not unlike what happened, actually.

I laugh to myself, then showered and got changed for bed, knowing the girls would have more questions for me. I get on the bed and the interrogation begins promptly.

"So how was he?"

"Did he go down on you?"

"Did you go down on him? Who am I kidding, of course you did." I side eye Leyah at her remark and she just smiles pleasantly.

"Absolutely amazing, the best sex I've ever had in my life, yes, amazingly so and yes, of course I went down on him. What kind of lover would I be if I withheld these skills?" I share making the girls laugh.

"The best sex, huh?" Vicky asks. "Oh, yeah." I respond, without a doubt.

"Wow... And you've had a lot of sex." She speaks in fatigued disbelief. I make a swipe at her and moves out of the way. "Shut up!"

"Well, you seem really happy. You're practically glowing, except for those warts on your neck." Leyah inputs. "Yeah, 'cuz she got that good dick." Vicky adds, teasingly causing the girls to chuckle.

"Haha, I am, yeah..." I trail off remembering the downfall of the night. The only reason why I'm sat here, telling the girls this now. I feel the need to confide in them as a way to somehow get this off my chest.

"I wanted to stay." I say looking down at the bed. "At J-Hope's?" Leyah asked, a little concerned at my sudden timid nature. "Yeah, but... I panicked....As usual." My shoulders slumped, reliving the mortifying experience over again in my head.

"Oh, Char... You didn't..." Carrie uttered worriedly. "No. No, I didn't have a panic attack, thank God... Came real close though." Vicky rested her hand on my back and began rubbing soothing circles into it.

"We were just laying there, afterward. We were each drifting to sleep when..." I sigh not wanting to repeat the toxic thoughts that swirled through my head earlier. "I just want to be normal... But it's like every time I take a step forward, I automatically take two steps back. And I really like him, but with the way things are going...with how fucked up I am, it doesn't seem like things are gonna last."

"Well, not with that attitude, it won't!" Leyah barks, coming to stand in front of me to the side of the bed. "And you are not fucked up up!"

"How else do you explain my situation, Leyah?" I ask, unimpressed. "I-I don't--know!" She stammers.

"Shit happens, okay? It's not your fault, but if you keep talking like this, then....You're right, it's not gonna last." She pauses to take a deep breath and collect herself, the rest of us just watching, awaiting her next words. This is the most expressive she's been in a while.

"I just know that you deserve... better than what you got... before. And if you really want it, you gotta fight for it. I'm sure you realize this too so... No more feeling sorry for yourself, or putting yourself down. Okay?" She looks to me sternly, pointing a finger in my direction.

I think about her request and it sounds easier said than done, but necessary all the same. I nod slowly in understanding. "Okay." I answer. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

"Good...Now let's get the fuck to bed, it's damn near 4 am. I'm tired as hell." Leyah goes to her bed to get some sleep, Vicky says goodnight and heads to the couch in the living room and Carrie stays seated next to me, eyeing me expectantly. "Can I sleep here tonight?" She asks sheepishly.

I giggle and invite her under the covers wordlessly. I engage Carrie in a whisper conversation about Roselin and how she also wishes to take things to the next level there until Leyah shushes us loudly. I wish her luck and ask that she keep me updated before we each allow sleep to take us, finally.

I wake up in a very familiar, dingey, white room that isn't the hotel I fell asleep in. The beaming sunlight shines through the only window in the place, it's thin white transparent drapes billow with the breeze that flows through it. I recognize it as the old apartment I shared with my ex-boyfriend.

I'm fully clothed on a firm mattress with springs that dig into my back, but are somehow tolerable. I turn to get rid of the light in my eyes and I am met with an unconscious figure next to me with a mop of silky black hair. Immediately I gravitate toward him, hoping to get my second chance to wake up next to J-Hope, but the skin of the figure is too pale.

This isn't my J-Hope.

I move away from the man in the bed, causing him to stir. He comes to and turns to face me and I'm frozen in place waiting for the figure to reveal itself, but at the same time, knowing exactly who it is.

Min Yoongi, my ex-boyfriend, my first love, reveals himself to me with a wide, genuine smile. I return it out of habit, knowing that they don't come often.

"Morning, baby girl." He regards me in an attractive morning voice, reaching up to caress my cheek. To my own surprise, I lean into his touch.

"Morning." I reply breathlessly, still unable to believe that this was happening.

How was this happening?

"I missed you." He says, staring deeply into my eyes.

I blink furiously, refocusing on his face, trying to grasp the situation. "What?" I ask in a whisper.

"I miss you, Char." He reiterates. I shake my head furiously and separate myself from his grasp. "No, you don't." I get out of the bed, breathing heavily and stand above him.

"You left me....Even after everything." I say bitterly. I watch him get up from the bed and make his way to me. He's fully clothed as well in a black hoodie, black skinny jeans and vans to match He looks at me with so much love in his eyes and it's hard not to melt under his gaze.

"Didn't you miss me?" He presses, ignoring my accusation.

"Wh... Of-of course I did." I answer immediately and truthfully to my chagrin. He smiles thankfully and pulls me in for a hug. I return it against my better judgement and hold him as tight as I can, but it was over as soon as it began and he was pulling away from me, getting further and further no matter how hard I tried to hold on. "I have to go now." He said softly. "I'll see you soon." He reassured me.

He headed for the door and I followed him without thinking. "No, wait! Why did you leave?" I call out after him. He only smiles over his shoulder at me and shuts the door. Tears sting my eyes and cloud my vision as I rush to open it, but it somehow locked behind him and I'm stuck tugging on the doorknob wildly.

"Yoongi! Open the door!" I tug and twist and pull for a long while until finally, it swung open.

"Ghuahh!" I gasped, eyes bursting open in my bed... in my hotel room. My chest rises and falls raggedly and I feel cold sweat left on my pillow from that crazy excuse for a dream. Nightmare? What the hell even was that?

I glance passed Carrie's sleeping body to the window where beams of sunlight shown through. The breeze that travels through it, brushes against my face and I'm made aware of the wetness escaping my eyes. Suddenly, I feel a wave of sadness wash over me and I'm convinced that if anyone were to try to hug me that I might actually break down in tears.

It is not an unfamiliar feeling. I try to brush it off as quickly as it came.

I gather myself and go to the bathroom splash water on my face to break out of my haze. Even though it was just a dream, I couldn't help, but be disappointed in myself because as much as I absolutely despise admitting it to myself, I did miss him, if only just a tad. But I would never take him back and he would have hell to pay if we were to ever meet again after all the stuff he put me through. But we completely lost touch and for the better. He could be dead for all I know.

I walk to the bed and sit down to check my phone and take my mind off of it. A text from J-Hope brings the first smile of the day to my face.

J-Hope: Hey, you busy today? I wanna see you. *smiley face emoji* 8:17 AM

I smile like a mad woman and respond immediately.

Me: Absolutely not! Please distract me. I send back.

J-Hope: Great! I'll pick you up in an hour?

Me: Sounds perfect. I'll see you soon

I fish through my drawers to find a cute outfit, appropriate for different possible activities and the warm San Francisco weather.

I decide on a sheer, black, spaghetti strap tank, black, high waisted shorts, black Doc Martens with a cardigan and sunglasses. I put on minimal make-up, mainly to cover up the dark circles accumulating under my eyes, but a shit ton of foundation on my neck and chest to cover up the myriad of hickies that covered them and I wait for Jay's message.

Today will be a good day, I tell myself. Forget about the dream, it was just that, a dream.

"Char, you okay?" I hear from Carrie just waking up on my way out.

"Yeah, I was just gonna go hang out with Jay."

"No, I meant earlier. I thought I heard you crying or something." She looked concerned through her tired fog.

"I'm fine," I lie. "Go back to sleep." I whisper softly and wait for her settle back in bed to head to the lobby.

I just about jumped with delight when I received the text that he was out front. Upon seeing me exit the building he got out to open the door for me. I noticed we were matching as he wore a black T-shirt (paying no mind to the bruises left on his neck) and black ripped jeans with black sneakers and still made it look like high fashion somehow.

When I approached, he gave me a peck on the lips. My spirits are immediately lifted. It gives me a giddy feeling to know that these are normal things for us now.

"Hello, beautiful." He sang smoothly, bringing a smile to my lips.

"Hi, handsome. You didn't get enough of me last night?"

He laughs, fondly at the question. "No, I'm afraid not. I think I'm gonna need a daily dose of you from now on."

"Well, we're both busy people so I'll have to squeeze you in, but I'll see what I can do." I take his chin in my hands and plant another firm kiss on his mouth. We both laugh as he gets in on the other side.

"So what is the plan for today?" I ask, making myself comfortable in my seat.

"Oh, I don't actually have one. I just wanted to see you." He says matter-of-factly. I whip my head in his direction, surprised and huff out a laugh. "Did you have anything in mind at all?"

He shrugs. "Have you eaten?"

"No, actually." My stomach growls as if on cue. I was so focused on seeing Jay that I had forgotten to eat anything.

"Then we'll do that first." He decides.

"First?" I follow up. "What comes after that?"

"Whatever we want."

I smile at his free tone. I like the sound of that.

He offers up the option of some five star restaurant I'd never heard of and as fun as that sounded, I actually had a craving for something distinct.

"Have you ever encountered that string of food trucks on Lombard st.? They have literally every food and I'm a slut for the loaded hot dogs and tater tots up there."

J-Hope snorts and eyes me briefly. "A what?"

"A slut, J-Hope." I repeat with humor dripping from my voice.

"Right, that's what I thought you said." He let's the laugh he was holding free and it is most definitely music to my ears, cheering me up so much already. "Okay, I'll swing by there."

Hoseok almost has a conniption trying to find parking for nearly half an hour, meaning I laughed at his expense for nearly half an hour. I offer to go somewhere else and he argued against it, saying that "If you want a hotdog, you're gonna get a damn hotdog." In his angry pursuit for a space.

"You'd think after living in this place for three years, that you'd know parking is a bitch by now." I say as we exit the car and join hands immediately upon coming together.

"Haha, I do know, doesn't change the fact that it's a bitch." He replies truthfully.

We walk the long street in search of one truck in particular amongst dozens, enjoying the smells that adorn our nostrils. I struggle to contain my genuine elation when receiving the footlong weiner covered in cheese steak meat, cheese and onion tanglers and tater tots covered in cheese, sour cream, bacon bits and scallions, which I let Jay pat for.

J-Hope was hesitant to order from the truck as hot dogs were "never his first choice", but I encouraged him to give it a try. So he ordered a chilli cheese dog and loaded tater tots as well. We miraculously find picnic table amidst the crowd of tourists and proceed to chow down.

I rip into my hot dog with a hunger I didn't know was there and I spied J-Hope across the table just studying his. "You just gonna look at it?" I chide him.

"No." He whines. "I just-"

"Just put it in your mouth already." I cut him off. He only looks up with a humorous smile. "I thought that was my line." He shot back. I nearly choke on the tater tot that was just tossed in my mouth and pause eating to cackle at the joke.

"Would you just eat it already?"

"Fine." He puts the hot dog up to his mouth and takes a decent sized bite with eyes closed as if he were hiding from the possible consequences of consuming a hot dog for once. His eyes open wide after he chews it a couple of times.

"This... Is not bad." He decides, blown away by the flavor.

I just nod in understanding. "I told you."

"You did." We continue to enjoy our street food together, taking in the beautiful day, discussing the latest celebrity drama, people watching and making each other laugh. He even re-taught me how to properly pronounce his name.

"Hold on, back up. What is your problem with Captain America?" Jay backtracks, completely lost. The food in front of us having been devoured for well over two hours.

"My problem is that he's fake." I explain, happy to tell him everything about my issue with the popular fictional character.

"For betraying Iron Man?"

"Precisely." I'm happy someone finally understands.

"I mean... He didn't really have a choice with Bucky on the run and-"

"Oh, not you too." I throw my hands up in frustration, causing him to chuckle.

"I'm just tryna state the facts." He lifts his hand near his chest in defense.

"I don't need facts, I saw the movies. Tony did nothing to deserve that. The comics did it better anyways." I mope.

"What? When they killed him?" He asked wide eyed.

"Yes!" I shout and watch J-Hope's jaw drop at my admission.

"Oh, that's cold, Charlotte." He shakes his head in good humor. I only shrug in response. It pleases me to know that Jay is into the same stupid shit that I am and that we can even have debates like this. We sit in silence for a few minutes, waiting for the other to say something about the debate.

"...I've always preferred Iron Man anyways." He says, agreeably and I giggle at his sudden change of stance. "Good answer."

We decide to ditch the picnic table and wander the downtown area aimlessly, hand in hand. We come across Fay Park and agree to take a few laps around and look at the flowers. The conversation has ebbed and it was just the two of us walking in comfortable silence when my mind had the opportunity to drift to the dream I had this morning. That dreadful sadness rearing its ugly head.

Thoughts churned in my head that I haven't explored in two whole years.

Why did he leave? I was the best girlfriend. I gave him everything he asked for that I could possible give him and then some. What did I do wrong? He was often upset with me for one thing or another and would leave periodically, but he always came back. Until he didn't. Why do I even care? He was an addict and a mentally abusive, asshole. He left and didn't come back for a reason.

"Hey." J-Hope nudged me and squeezed my hand getting my attention. "Where'd you go?" He asked referring to my spacing out.

"Uh, nowhere. Sorry." I look down at the ground and study the patterns in the dirt.

"It's okay....You wanna talk about it?" He offers, carefully. I look at him hesitantly. Do I?

"You were frowning... and you seem a little down today." He adds.

Curse you, Jung Hoseok, for being such an observant human being.

"Oh, no, it's nothing you'd want to hear." I shut down. You definitely don't want to hear about my ex-boyfriend drama. It's way too early for that.

"Well, I do if you want to talk to me." He proposes, as if it's that easy.

"It....I-I had a nightmare last night." I make the decision to confide in Jay, even if I only give him half the story, it couldn't hurt to start now. "It was more of a dream, but...I woke up frightened, sweaty, panting, crying even....Haven't done that in a long time." I add without much thought, the words just sort of falling out of my mouth with no consent. "I just felt so... Alone." I explain out loud for the first time in a far away state.

"Aw, Charlotte. I'm sorry." He soothes, swinging an arm around my body to rub my arm. Surprisingly, I don't shy away from his grip or burst into tears. I instinctively lean into his side and rest my head on his shoulder. I could get used to this. "I wish I could have been there for you."

"Ugh, I don't. I was definitely a sight for sore eyes."

"Ha, I'm guessing you're not gonna tell me what the dream was about?" He pried.

"No....Maybe someday." He only nods, respecting my privacy. He points out the gazebo ahead and insists we take a picture in it. We take a selfie of us smiling up at the camera and I beg him to send it to me.

By the time we exit the park and travel back to the car it's around 1:30 pm and J-Hope questions me about the rest of the evening. "Okay, what do you wanna do now? Do you wanna go roller skating, see a movie, get desert? Should I drop you back at the hote-"

"No." I answer fiercely before he can finish his sentence, desperately not wanting to go back to feeling alone in a room full of people yet.

With Hoseok, I feel wanted and desired and like I'm being cared for constantly. Not to say that the girls don't care for me, but with Hoseok it's different. It feels good to be wanted by another like this after so long, especially by someone as accommodating as Jay.

"Okay. So, where to?" He reiterates.

"Uh, your place?" is the first thing that came to mind for me. I don't particular feel like being around other people any longer, even if we weren't being bothered by anyone.

J-Hope smiled fondly at the option. "Sure, yeah, we can go there." It's a short drive to J-Hope's place and immediately upon entering, he offers the contents of his fridge to me. I spy a tub of chocolate ice cream and snatch it up faster than he can grasp.

We get comfortable on the couch, sitting side by side and devouring ice cream with The Bachelor playing on his flat screen. We make fun of the contestants and laugh at their expense whenever one of them throws a fit or picks a fight. Reality tv really is something.

"This show is so stupid." I say through a mouthful of ice cream.

"You wanna watch something else?" He offers. I mull it over silently before I answer, "No." He laughs at my decision, knowing how much I enjoy picking fun at the reality stars.

"I see you covered up the hickeys pretty well." He suddenly reaches out to run a finger along the side of my neck. I shudder at the sensitivity and glare in his direction.

"Yes, doesn't change the fact that they're still there, Mr. WannabeDracula." I say with a straight face, taking hold of his hand and resting it back on his lap, despite wanting to put them somewhere else after his actions.

He just laughs it off. "I see you neglected to." I comment on his exposed bruises.

"Oh, yeah, well, I don't own any BB Cream or anything like that." He shrugged

"Yes, you do." I argue, instantly, brows furrowed. His head suddenly whipped around to face me. "How do you know that?" He asks, admittedly, caught in a lie.

"I've been in your room." I answer naturally.

"Yeah once, why did you notice that of all things?" He demands, shocked. I just shrug with laughter not knowing what else to say.

He sighs. "Anyway, I guess I just felt like showing them off today." He smiles at me wantonly and my heart speeds up at the sight.

"Is that so?" I drawl, lazily.

"Mmhmm. If only you didn't cover yours up. We could be matching completely." He says, referring to our all black ensembles.

My eyes widen, I sit up in my seat and I put the ice cream down on the coffee table, laziness gone from my demeanor. "J-Hope, do you even know the damage you did to my neck? People would think I fell down a flight of stairs." I point at my neck incredulously.

"Damage? No, I remember making it beautiful. I somehow managed to make it look better than it does right now." He bragged, not being able to help himself as he stole several glances at my neck and chest.  

"You have a problem, Jay." I accuse him.

"What? And you don't?" He flips it back on me, pointing at his own collection of hickies.

"That's different! You went crazy."

"And I'd do it again." He replied easily, with no sign of remorse. I laugh at his honestly. "Well, you can't leave that many, it's too much."

"Are you gonna stop me?" He drones, sensually. Suddenly, I notice the hungry look in his eyes and his predatory movements towards me.

I neglect to answer him even as he crawls on top of me, my lags now wrapped around his waist, his hands propping himself up on either side of my head. Whatever answer I may or may not have had vanishes from my mind as our foreheads touch and he stares deeply into my eyes.

"No?" He questions mockingly when he gets no response.

"You're a tease, you know that?" I whisper only half-joking.

He laughs sexily and I don't know if he did that on purpose, but I can feel myself getting wet just at the sound. "You love it." he says before swooping in and finally attaching our lips.

I bring my hands up to caress his face and sink my fingers into his silky hair. He moans at the gesture and when he goes to pull away, I bite down on his lower lip with a hint of force, to get him to stay put. He winces and pulls back anyway and gives me a stunned look before shaking it off and kissing me again with even more vigor. I giggle at his actions as I go to pull his shirt up over his head.

He obliged, towering over me to complete the action, his impressive abs on full display above me. Naturally, my hands find their way to his stomach and I run my hands up and down the solid domain, biting my lip, barely holding back a moan.

J-Hope flashes a cocky smile before ordering me to remove my shirt as well. I obey, mindlessly. He's obviously very pleased that I've chosen to go braless today and urgently pushes me back on the leather couch to violate my nipples with his tongue. I arch my chest into him, letting out a whimper at the contact.

I feel his mouth leave my chest and make its way north to my neck. I immediately grab a handful of his hair and tug until he is hissing and eye level with me. "Take it easy, okay?" I warn in a low voice referring to his obsession with my collarbones. He chuckles. 

"Of course." He pecks my lips before his mouth expresses its admiration for my clavicle. He delivers a quick, but effective assault to my chest then makes quick work of my shorts, unbuttoning them and sliding them and my underwear off recklessly. It's like Jay's behavior completely switches when he finally has me completely exposed.

His actions become slower, he suddenly decides to take his time as he kisses his way down my body. His lips gloss over my stomach gingerly, he takes my leg and hikes it over his shoulder, nipping at the skin of my thighs fervidly, avoiding the place where I needed him most in this moment. "Hoseok..." I whine, keenly, testing name out once more. He finishes giving another hickey to my inner thigh when he looks up at me with those bedroom eyes. "Huh?" He utters with hooded eyelids.

"Will you stop teasing me for once?" I beg, my voice dripping with want.

He makes an exaggerated confused face. "Is that what I'm doing?" He repeats my words from the night before in a mocking tone. And my head falls onto the couch with a thud of despair. "Don't do this to me." I say, my words drifting up to the ceiling, but are aimed at Jay.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His breath, hot against my clit, he licks a stripe up my pussy lip, giving me goosebumps. I slip my fingers into the familiar territory of his hair and tug slightly, knowing he would appreciate it.

I fix my needy gaze on his breathtakingly handsome face. "Please, Hobi." I moan desperately, not paying much attention to what I was saying, let alone the new name for J-Hope that felt so natural coming out of my mouth.

I think Jay silently agrees with me as he finally attaches his mouth to my clit, causing me to throw my head back into the cushion with a howl. "Oh, fuck yes." I thread all of my fingers in his tresses and let myself be carried away with pleasure.

He slips his damnable fingers into my pussy and immediately moves them back and forth in a come hither motion. "Ugh, I'm close, baby." I warn after a while. I feel him shift to remove his bottoms and suddenly he withdrew from my pussy and I nearly scream in fury. I glare at him with loathing and he only beams, my arousal still evident on his lips. "What the fuck?" I demand.

"Oops...You wanna put your ass in the air for me?" Is his reply.

Fuck yes. "I could kill you." I spit at him before getting into the position he requested, watching him pull a condom from a cookie tin on a shelf under the coffee table. I don't ask.

Instead, I make sure to arch my back to the best of my ability with my face pressed against the couch and my hands on either side of me.

"Good girl." He approves of my efforts, causing even more wetness to flow down my thighs. Jay's hands drift up my thighs to my ass and he fondles it slowly, circling it, administering kisses to it all the while. I gasp when he presses his mouth to my glistening cunt once more.

I feel him spread my ass cheeks apart to gain better access, his tongue strays to my asshole briefly causing my body to jerk forward and I hum with lust. He steals another sharp intake of breath when he delivers a rough bite to my ass cheek. "Ooh." I giggle at the unexpected action.

Finally I feel his dick collect moisture from my opening and then push into me firmly, but carefully. "Gah! Fuck." I curse at the intense breach that was just as delicious as the night before, even more so with the new, flattering angle. Instinctively, I reach behind me to hold my ass open for him to slide in easier. I back up on J-Hope, earning a guttural moan from him. I continue to rock back and forth, allowing him to reenter me without him moving a muscle.

"Oh, fuck. Yeah, baby, just like that....Move back and forth on my dick....Use it to get you off....Haugh, you're so tight." His filthy words set something off in me, I speed up, fucking him back at a wild pace.  

"Sss-ah....Ugh, you're so fuckin' sexy....So fucking good around my cock. Such a good girl for me, Charlotte." My pussy clenches around his cock without my permission because of the excessive amounts of praise being thrown my way.

"Are you my-nnngh!-my good girl, Char?" He forces my hands away from my backside, he takes my hips in his hands in a strong grip sure to leave bruising and begins to pound into me repeatedly, striking my g-spot violently.

"Hngh-Yes! I wanna be your good girl, Hoseok! Ha-ahhh." I mumble and mewl into the couch, a mumbling, sweaty, shaking mess. Jay bends down so that his chest is flush to my back and places a wet kiss on my cheek. He reaches for my clit and rubs speedy circles into it, my walls immediately clamping down on his cock.

"Oh, god, yesss, like that....Mmm, your pussy's so good....You're my good girl, Charlotte....Come on, cum on my cock, baby. You can do it. Cum, baby." He whispers into my ear in a raspy voice.

Suddenly, my orgasm slams into me like a runaway train with no breaks, electrifying my entire body, making goosebumps appear everywhere. Hoseok continues to snap his hips into mine as I go completely still, save for the insane amount of shaking from my legs and the uncontrollable twitching from the center of my spine. My eyes roll back further when I feel Hoseok cum into the condom, my body falling limp.

He releases a few husky grunts, hands clamping down on my hips. He thrusts powerfully into my spent body a few more times before he removes himself from me and discards the condom. I whimper at the loss of him between my legs and fall sideways onto the back of the couch, suddenly feeling incredibly fatigued, I let my eyelids fall closed.

"Hey." I hear him enter the room again and I'm too drowsy to acknowledge him. He maneuvers me so that I'm laying with my back on the couch and then carries me bridal style to what I assume is the bed room. "You okay, babe?" He asks from above me. I attempt to nod my heavy head and kiss his bicep that cradled my head.

My suspicions are proven true when the skin of my bare body is met with the soft cotton sheets of Hoseok's bed. He slides the covers over me and crawls in next to me and we spent the next hour or so on our sides facing each other, hands mindlessly, drifting over the other's bodies, just enjoying each other's company.

At one point, our eyes met and his are filled with so much adoration and fondness, it literally causes my breath to catch. Two weeks ago, if someone looked at me like that I would have either slapped it out of them or run for the hills. But in this very moment, I realize there is no turning my back on this man even if I wanted to. I want to hold onto this for as long as I possibly can. Even if it is doomed to fail.