#have just done other things myself. hell i could have fucking slept some more since I worked last night as it is

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[leafybfdia]

ii2 ep 16 act 1 spoilers

um so this act has utterly decimated me. i had work to do yesterday and i found myself completely unable to do any of it. i woke up this morning and my first thought was about this episode. i went out today and all i could think about was this episode. i came home and ate and had to take a nap because my head hurt from thinking about this episode. i slept for 3 hours and dreamt of ii. ive done nothing today except think about ii2 ep 16 act 1. i didnt even act like this when firey revived leafy and i literally go insane over any leafy crumbs. point is i think i need to talk about it to release me. this is just gonna be my speculation for some things. ok? ok

the contestants

ive seen people debating about whether cobs is lying about mephone making the contestants but i think hes genuinely telling the truth considering the fact that 1. they glitch at the end and 2. the foreshadowing and 3. brian and co have been laughing it up over at animationepic hq or wherever LOL. but one thing i do think is worth discussing is whether or not mephone was even like consciously aware of what he was doing. i thought it was heavily heavily implied that he didnt realize (considering that when cobs asks “why did you do it?” hes like huh whuh) but then brian tweeted this

but then again he could be fucking with us. like you never know. and also i mean the question WAS pretty vague.

PERSONALLY im team subconscious. i think the writers are trying to hurt us and subconscious would hurt more.

another thing to mention is that the settings of inanimate insanity are very likely made up considering that the s2 location has literally prime shimmer planet eggs or whatever as hills in the background, and the island in iii is called “inanimate island” iirc. the same alliteration cobs mentions. and of course it could just be some pre-existing island that he renamed himself for the show but at this point i feel like anything is possible

whos real and who isnt

so that leads to this. who the hell is made up then??

i genuinely wanted to argue that bow could be real considering the fact that she came into the show on her own against mephones own wishes and also cant be revived but if team subconscious is right then it would have been possible for mephone to just have made her up too so like… i dont know. I dont know… it’s scary….

oh and that leads to another thing i kept seeing

the “bow is a prime shimmer” theory or whatever that i keep seeing

… guys im going to be honest i think we’ve reached the point of delirium. on one hand i vaguely understand where these ppl are coming from since bow made a prime shimmer sound and the egg that 3gs gave to cobs was pink (and i saw someone say it had a bow symbol on it but i just couldnt see it????) but i otherwise… dont see it? she doesnt look like a prime shimmer guys. sorry. anyways

mephone x

good goddamn lord. so get a load of this guy.

one thing i havent really seen people talk about is how only the specific targets can see mephone x and no one else. of course this is like WTF! before it’s revealed that everyones “not real” but like. i mean it’s assumed that cobs is the one controlling this thing. idk if this thing has agency and is just following cobs orders or if its just a vessel for cobs to control or what but it really begs the question as to like. how can he make mephone x be invisible to everyone else? are the contestants “made up” in the sense that theyre just code, and hes entering the mainframe or whatever? like. im assuming thats what it is but like Oh My God? and what the fuck is going on with his targets?

everyone keeps saying that like ohhh hes targetting those who were in the middle of talking with others but i dont think thats necessarily the case. i think thats just for the drama. even though it’s been said that it’s up for interpretation if guava and soap were killed too i at the very least think guava is dead dead since his disappearance was mentioned before even pickle died. starfruit says that guava just “ditched” so he wasnt talking to anyone. i genuinely think anyones fucked. speaking of which:

is the death thing permanent

honestly? im scared to answer this. on one hand im like well no these characters have important arcs they need to fulfill but on the other hand i feel like we genuinely may be hit with the madoka magica treatment here where death is sudden, unexpected, permanent, and terrifying.

my biggest fear is the ending being like everyone coming to terms with the fact that theyre not real and just fading away like they got thanos snapped or something. but i think soap and mics interaction is foreshadowing. soap deletes a picture of them together and opens the recently deleted pictures album and goes “oops, missed a spot!”. i think toilet, oj, pickle, nickel, and potentially soap and guava are in some kind of digital trash can right now and can still be saved. chat i have to believe

box

so. rememebr box you guys.

… i dont think hes “the first victim” or whatever. although it is an interesting theory

people seem to be able to communicate with box? which makes sense since theyre all made up and if box is made up too then well theyre like all the same guys. but like… his whole not reacting thing is mentioned too so. i mean. huh?

i dont remember if bot ever interacted with box before he got injured too. and im too tired to rewatch the first parts of season 3. but them interacting with box would have implications since they were like the only confirmed contestant so far that mephone hasnt made himself

toilet

oh yeah hes fucked. he has been fucked for YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!! we just finally got confirmation that like yep no that man is DIED. although it confirms that toilet too isnt real which makes my whole “is bow real” thing kind of a stretch since he didnt like bow or toilet and yet they were still there

of course his carcass wasnt shown so it’s like ohh maybe he just got kidnapped or whatever.

and also adam was being controlled by cobs, and adam DID hire toilet… IS toilet real? if he isnt then did another mephone make toilet for cobs so he could send him out?? im in so much pain

honorable mentions and misc

- test tube and fan making bot is made slightly better because they didnt realize both bow and marshmallow were still. “alive”. bows not really alive though but you know what i mean. STILL DOESNT EXCUSE IT THOUGH

- do you think mephone made santa because of his childish whimsy and joy. like he wanted santa to be real so bad. Guys im sorry im not rewatching that episode i dont remember what even happens

- the season 3 contestants being at the hotel is… it’s not IMPOSSIBLE i guess since oj knows them. still frightening. they like literally spawned in it was the scariest shit ever. i remember when i was at the meetup i noticed that candles asset used in the theater etiquette video was season 2ified and i was like LOL thats a little unnecessary. like the face and limbs sure but the asset itself? Anyways yeah no that was completely necessary.

- according to brian the plot twist was planned since 2015 at the latest, so around the episode “theft and battery” when cobs is first shown. do with that what you will.

- ballpoint pens resemblance to cobs was not a funny coincidence.

- i genuinely got scared that mephone was confirmed to be a babys or something but as im rewatching it like 20 times yeah no i think cobs is just infantilizing him. Can i be honest mephone has always had old man voice to me

- do you think mephone made springy so he could feel like he had a normal childhood. sniffle

- bot, the one contestant he didnt make, was his favorite. Do with that what you will.

- no i dont think suitcases psychosis was her just “seeing reality as how it is”. i feel so bad for suitcase especially btw. im team suitcase i always have been they could never make me hate her.

- walkie talkie. FUCK

my predictions

- lightbulbs a goner im so sorry. lightbulb was literally trending on twitter earlier idk if it still is but shes FUCKED. she has the X on her face in the thumbnail and shes a fan favorite. someones gonna argue with her like ohh you cant make this positive lightbulb and then shes gonna be like Chat whats that sound… (she would say 100% say chat. to me)

- the rest of the season 3 contestants HAVE to be shown. theyre involved in this too man. clover fluttering away on her butterflies to whereever she went after she got eliminated and im like THIS INVOLVES YOU TOO. GET BACK HERE

- mephone will deny that he made everyone up but as he begins to doubt himself everyone will start glitching out

- i think bot will be called in here. cobs cant do shit to them mephone x wise

- no one wins here. even if they do get physical with cobs and suitcase idk beats him to death with hammers. idk if theyd show deatj and dying on screen but it’s like. ok but then what. youre still made up by mephone. take those million dollars if mephone even has the fucking money. what then. literally what then

- i wanted to say maybe mephones realization of his creation skills lets him create something or someone powerful enough to defeat cobs but like. you know. mephone x. then again though like you never know. thats the one thing here. if you know something no you dont

- 40 min fantube makeout scene thats unskippable because the entire time cheesy is in the background with a blank expression stating important plot related facts with no hint of emotion whatsoever

tldr

[jennay]

Come Back Home

Jolly x reader

An: Random idea I had that I got stuck on and required way too much help from @a-villain-vying-for-attention then decided to make her a character since she basically came up with the ideas and I wrote it. Lol thanks for being my shadow writer for times when my brain decides it's done thinking.

Words 2200

Jolly Master List

This is chunked into four sections bear with me. I hate transitional writing 😂

"Please don't tell them. They'll just worry, and next thing you know, they'll be at my door, and it's just not the right timing for me to come back. I need to finish my work here, and it's not completely horrible. I think I just miss everyone, and I feel isolated." You admit over Facetime to your best friend, Kayla. "It just wasn't supposed to be like this. “Moving away from you guys was literally one of the worst decisions I've made."

Kayla sighs, "I don't mean to say I told you so, but I did." She laughs, "But the worst part is, Noah told you, Jolly told you, and you still just said bye bitches. Do you know how sad it is not to have you here? I have to deal with them all the time, by MYSELF."

You peel yourself off the couch, dragging your feet through the dining room and to the back door.

You brace yourself for the inevitable assault of the sun, but it still hurts like hell when you open the door and get blasted by its rays. "Fuck." You groan. "It's bright." You squint your eyes and cover them with your hand as you stumble to the camping chair you set up on your porch for such occasions. You hated the daylight. You wished you could be a nocturnal creature, but sadly, you had to pretend to be a responsible adult, even if you sucked at it.

"Wow, look at you, Dracula." She mocks you from the other side of the video call. "You look like you're about to die over there, paler than a ghost and skinnier than a twig. Do I need to come over and feed you some blood? I know it's only been six months, but I will literally come over and mother you to death. I'll bring Noah too, and we'll play house. God knows we need some practice." She flashes a big smile. "You know, for the future and all that jazz."

You laugh, shaking your head, "This is new for you!"

"Yeah, well, now I'm just working on convincing Noah that it's a good idea." She tucks her hair behind her ears. "So I need you to come back because I'm not raising these imaginary kids without their badass aunt."

You roll your eyes at her, "These kids don't even exist yet, so I think we have some time, and besides, I don't know if I'll feel any better moving back. If I have to watch HIM date other people and it not be me…well, I'd rather stay here and suffer in silence."

"Well, he's miserable without you, and why are we not using his name?" She laughs again. "Mopping and shit, constantly.”

You shrug, "I think he's probably fine. I basically threw myself at him and got no reaction. I literally slept in his bed the night before I left." You pause, growing frustrated. "Maybe we're just supposed to be friends; maybe he only sees me as a friend. That's OK. I can't be mad about that, but it always felt like there was something more, you know?"

Kayla groans loudly, "You both suck. If you would've just let me meddle, I could've set you two up."

"I don't want you to set me up! I wanted something natural." You say with all seriousness. "I wanted him to say it."

From behind Kayla, Noah pokes his head into the view, "He's dumb...guys are dumb." He gives you a face that says, duh.

"Well, now I'm here, and I can just say fuck it. I'll find someone here."

Noah's laughter rings through the speaker, "And then break up because all you're gonna do is fucking compare the two and be a whiny baby about how he's not Jolly, so you had to break up? Fuck off, y/n." He chuckles again. "Just come home."

You shake your head, "No. You will have to come to drag my dead body home before I willingly come back."

Noah grabs the phone from Kayla's hand, and you meet with wide eyes. And in a serious tone, Noah says, "Dead or not, at least you'll be home where you belong."

Kayla, Noah, and Jolly were lounging on the couch, munching on some greasy take-out that Noah had ordered from the nearest pizza place. While Jolly was engrossed in the latest episode of Bob's Burgers, Kayla was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

She couldn't stand the sight of him, acting like nothing was wrong, like he wasn't the reason her best friend wasn't living with them anymore.

Noah noticed his girlfriend's glare and chuckled softly, nudging her elbow with his. "Chill," he whispered in her ear.

"NO!" Kayla shouted, startling both Noah and Jolly. She slammed her food on the coffee table and turned to face Jolly with a furious expression. "I'm sick and tired of pretending like everything is fine. I want my friend back, and if this is what it takes to make you use your brain, then so be it!" She pointed an accusing finger at Jolly, who looked confused and scared. "You need to go get y/n back right now or get on the next flight to Sweden because I can't stand having you around. You make me so mad, both of you, pretending you don't care about each other. She's depressed as shit living there with her fuckin awful family, but she'd rather stay there than come home because of you!" She roughly gets off the couch and storms out of the room, heading for the stairs. "You're such an idiot," she yelled over her shoulder at Jolly.

Noah raised his eyebrows and bit his lip to stop laughing as he saw Jolly's dumbfounded face. Jolly put down his food and looked at Noah with a puzzled expression. "What did I do?" he asked innocently.

Noah shrugs and says, "I think it's more of what you didn't do…"

Kayla comes back down the stairs, holding her food in her hands. She glared at Jolly one more time and flipped him off, then walked out of the room. "Buy the damn ticket!" she screamed from the hallway.

Noah heard the door slam and shook his head. "Well," he said, standing up and grabbing his food. "There's your answer. Bring y/n home."

"How am I supposed to do that?" He loudly asks.

"I don't know but you need to figure it out, Kayla might actually kill you in your sleep."

You grab your coat and head for the door, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for the day ahead. You were going hiking with your sister and her husband, and you couldn't wait to explore the great outdoors with them. As you glance at the clock, you groan in annoyance, realizing you're running late again. You can't help but wonder why you're always so disorganized and frazzled.

You pull the door open, taking a deep breath of fresh air as you step outside. Suddenly, you're nearly choking on air as you see a familiar face staring back at you. Jolly stands there with a backpack over his shoulder, his long hair draped over his shoulders, and a black backward hat covering the top of his head. He's dressed in black skin jeans and a deep red plaided flannel, looking effortlessly stylish and cool.

Your shock disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by annoyance at the sight of Jolly. You can't help but feel irritated that he's here, disrupting your plans for the day. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little bitter still.

"Hi." He quietly says, looking from you to the ground, feeling awkward. He hadn't planned what he was going to tell you.

"Can I come in?" he quietly asks.

You nod your head, stepping aside. "I was leaving, but I guess this kind of changes my plans," you say, rolling your eyes. "What are you even doing here?" You say as you follow him to the living room. "I've tried so hard not to think about you; I moved states, Jolly, and now you're at my house. Are you trying to make my life hard?" You don't sit down knowing you're too heated to stay in one place.

Jolly doesn't sit on the couch either. Instead, he sits on the armrest, staring at you with confusion and annoyance; he folds his hands in his lap and allows you to continue. Why was everyone so irritated with him? He didn't know what he did in the first place. "What did I do?" He questions.

You're eyes dart back to him. "You treated me like I was special, OK? I thought I was special to you…then, you go and date other people." You say, running out of breath. "Then I dated other people because I thought you didn't want me and I was right, you didn't care at all, but then I dumped them because all I could think about was you!" You dramatically cover your face with your hands, pacing back and forth. You enter your kitchen and stare out the sliding glass door. Your back facing Jolly as he observes you. "I stayed in your bed the night before I left, and you still let me go."

"I thought you were leaving for a job! I didn't want to be the reason you didn't go!" He whines. "You told me you were leaving for a job."

You still don't turn around to look at him, knowing he was right, "I just thought you'd ask me to stay if you really wanted me."

He stands straight, walking toward you; you feel his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. His dark eyes scan your face, wishing he wasn't the reason you were upset.

He leans in close, his breath warm on your face. "You were always special to me," he whispers, his voice low and sincere. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just confused and scared. I didn't know how to handle my feelings for you. I was afraid of losing you, so I pushed you away. I never stopped thinking about you. I came here to tell you that. To tell you that I'm sorry. To tell you I need you."

Jolly pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. He gently cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. He smiles softly, his eyes shining with hope. "Can you give me another chance?" he asks, his voice pleading.

You feel a surge of emotion, a mix of anger, pain, and love. You want to scream at him, to push him away. But you also want to hug him, to kiss him, to hold him close. You're torn between your head and your heart. You look into his eyes, and you see the sincerity and the regret.

You see the man you fell in love with, the man who made you laugh, the man who made you feel alive. You feel your resolve weakening, your walls crumbling. You lean in and press your lips to his, answering his question with a kiss.

"So I'm bringing you home." He smiles against your lips. Pulling back, his brown eyes search yours, "This long distance thing isn't how I want to start this." he gently kisses your forehead.

You nod knowingly, "I guess we should start packing."

Jolly smiles, running his hand through your hair, "I'm pretty sure Kayla has a timer set."

You giggle. "She is absolutely crazy." You lean up, kissing Jolly again. "But it's why we love her."

He nods in agreement, "Plus she's Noah's problem."

With a cautious glance, you gently push the front door open, hoping no one will notice your arrival and ambush you as soon as you enter the house.

You sneak into the living room on your tiptoes, holding Jolly's hand.

Noah and Kayla are so engrossed in the TV show that they don't even look at you.

You pretend to be nonchalant and sit down on the recliner next to them, giving them a hard stare.

Her eyes widen as she realizes who you are, and she jumps off the couch and runs toward you. You're home! This is fucking amazing!" She screams in your ear. "I was expecting you guys to take more time, to be honest…you both suck at directions. I don't know how you managed to drive all the way back here." She laughs as she releases you from her hug and embraces Jolly instead, "Look at you. I can finally be in the same room as you without being pissed off. I'm so proud of you." She jokes with him. "Wow," She scans the room and sees the three of you together. "So, is it official now? Can we all just admit how stupid the two of you were? I mean, come on, you could have just moved down the street instead of moving two states away." She snuggles up to Noah on the couch. "I'm not going through this again. You guys have to sort things out by yourselves from now on." She says and acts like she's dismissing you.

Jolly chuckles, sitting in the recliner; he grabs you and makes you sit on his lap, catching you off guard.

You shake your head light laughter falling from your lips, "Well, I missed you too, dick."

You lean into Jolly's chest and wrap your arms around him, feeling his warmth and heartbeat. You sigh in contentment and happiness, glad to be home with the people who loved you the most.

[turtlethebean]

CC OC Week Day 2: Past

Read it on AO3: You Can't Run Forever - Turtle_The_Bean - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Warnings: Child death, child soldiers, child trafficking, and panic attacks.

Why the hell did I agree to do this?

The question lingered in Amaya’s mind as she watched her temporary roommate, Chieko Tsukada, unpack her stuff right in front of her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to having roommates; she had slept in tents with plenty of other kids before this. No, there was a different reason she was reconsidering her acceptance of this situation.

But she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Elliot had introduced the two, telling Amaya that Chieko would be staying for a few weeks and asked if she would be okay with living with her for that time. She couldn’t remember why, but something had made her feel incredibly flustered at that moment, forcing her to agree despite her blank mind.

She wished she could just go over to their place and tell them, “Nope, can’t do this. Sorry.” But she felt like she had gotten herself into this mess; therefore, she had to deal with the consequences of her own actions.

“Um,” Chieko’s voice popped up, snapping Amaya away from her thoughts, “Are you going to help me unpack, or are you just going to stand there?”

“Oh, sorry,” Something about Chieko’s voice made her flustered again, “I’ll help out, no problem.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ve unpacked plenty of times on my own. It’s just that you standing there staring at me is making me a bit uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I haven’t had to share a room with another person in…” Shit, how long had it been since she was with Sombra? “Like…seven or eight years…”

Had it really been that long? It seemed like only yesterday she got out of her one-year jail sentence for the things she had done for them.

Trying to distract herself from how old she really was, Amaya got to work trying to help Chieko with her luggage. She didn’t want to think about anything that happened back then. She didn’t need to think about those memories when there were more important things to take care of, like…

Like the dog tags she found in one of the suitcases.

It seemed strange that Chieko had those dog tags in her suitcase. She didn’t really seem like the type to wear them. Sure, she did wear a locket, but a locket is fairly different to dog tags.

It got weirder upon closer examination. There was a name engraved on the dog tags – Tsukada Hiroshi. Oh god, she had stumbled upon some sort of secret identity Chieko was trying to hide from, didn’t she? The feeling of doing something wrong crept up on Amaya, causing her to try shoving the dog tags away from her so she wouldn’t have to think about them. However, as she did so, the chain caught on some of her arm hair, resulting in a loud “OW FUCK!” coming from her.

“Are you okay?” Chieko asked, concerned.

“Y-yeah, just…something pulled my arm hair.” Amaya couldn’t think of a lie to get herself out of this situation.

“Oh, I probably should’ve handled that stuff myself.” Chieko noticed the dog tags and picked them up.

“Do…do you mind if I ask you who Hiroshi is…or was?”

“I don’t mind. It’s been a long time since it happened. He was my brother.”

“Was? I’m sorry to hear that. Can I ask what happened to him?”

“He was…murdered. A group of people called Sombra trafficked and then killed him. I couldn’t get to him in time.”

Amaya felt the stinging in her eyes as she realised the truth. Chieko’s brother had been killed in the hunt. Did she even know about the hunt, though? Sure, she knew about Sombra, but she assumed a lot of people knew about them.

Hiroshi could’ve been like her, a soldier programmed to obey all of Sombra’s orders. She couldn’t tell if him dying was the better or worse option than that.

“Amaya,” Chieko waved her hand in front of Amaya’s widened eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, sure, I…I just need a minute. I’ll go make myself a cup of tea or something.” Amaya fumbled over her words. She didn’t kill Hiroshi herself, so why did she suddenly feel so guilty?

“Oh, okay. I’ll call you over if I need any help.”

“Yeah, yeah, you do that.”

Amaya stumbled into the kitchen and stood, staring into the sink as though she was about to throw up. Why? Why did she feel like this? She didn’t feel like this when she killed other kids during the hunt herself, so why did she feel like this now?

She suppressed another wave of nausea as she reached over to turn the kettle on, her hands trembling from the feeling. The guilt washed over her in waves, each one threatening to bring her down with it. Her knees felt weak as she tried to stretch up for a mug. She couldn’t reach the mug, but the idea of climbing onto the counter seemed impossible right now.

She needed to calm down before she did anything.

Gripping onto whatever was closest to her, she slowly made her way to the couch. This is the one time I’m gonna be thankful my kitchen and living room are the same fucking thing. She thought, flopping over as her legs finally gave in on her.

She still needed something to drink, so she tried to reach her shaking hands over to the case of water bottles beside the couch. However, the shakiness of her hands caught onto the case, knocking it over and spilling the bottles everywhere. Normally, this would be the last straw for her, but she didn’t want to disturb Chieko in any way. Instead, she got down onto the floor and started picking things up, starting with the case.

She just needed to make things better. She just needed to be strong. She needed to command.

The damage to the plastic casing was too much, and she quickly realised she needed to find another way to store nearly twelve bottles of water.

She tried getting off the floor, but her legs were so weak that she couldn’t even move them. That meant the fridge was out of the question. She wasn’t about to use the freezer to store them either; she’d rather have floor water than a chunk of ice, especially if she was mid-workout.

“Hey,” Oh god, not now of all times.

“Oh, hi Chieko,” Amaya blushed from the embarrassment of getting caught…doing whatever this was, “What’re you doing here?”

“I heard a loud crash. I figured I should check out the rest of the apartment anyway. May I ask why you’re on the floor?”

“I…I was…I was making myself a cup of tea…when I tripped over the water. I’m totally fine, though.” She unsteadily stood up. “See? Totally fine.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should lie down for a little bit. I’ll bring you your cup of tea.”

Amaya didn’t want to accept, but it felt exactly like it did before when she agreed to let Chieko stay with her. Unable to accept or deny the offer, she simply nodded and stumbled away into her bedroom. Once there, she fell face-first into her pillows, trying to hide the blush heating her face.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Well, she knew at least some things that were wrong with her, but why she was suddenly acting so strange around Chieko wasn’t one of them. She felt bad for accepting the offer of having her tea made for her. She wanted to take out her phone, pull up Elliot’s contact and tell him that she couldn’t do it, but she felt it would be rude given that Chieko had just unpacked most of her stuff.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be lying down like…that,” Chieko commented after Amaya heard her door open.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t flash you or anything, did I?” Amaya scrambled to sit herself upright and face her new temporary roommate.

“It’s fine, you didn’t. I didn’t know how you take your tea, so I brought the milk and sugar with me.” Chieko placed a tray on the side table beside the bed.

“Oh, well, I usually use a lot of sugar, so I don’t really expect you to get it right the first time.”

Chieko chuckled a little bit, eliciting a smile from Amaya. God, how could she hate someone with a face so pretty, especially when she smiled? She looked as sweet as the sugar being poured into her tea but so much prettier, like the stars in the night sky.

“Can I ask you something? Why have you been acting…off since I got here?” Chieko asked, sitting beside Amaya, who was pouring sugar in her tea.

“Oh, that…that…is definitely a question…one I’m not sure you’d want the answer to.” Amaya tipped the sugar dispenser further, spilling the sugar in faster.

“Well, I feel like we should address it if we’re going to be living together. I’d rather deal with just how much sugar you put in your tea rather than how much sugar you put in your tea AND whatever’s bothering you.”

“Ah! I don’t usually put this much in. Sorry,” Amaya put the sugar back on the tray, “But, yeah, you’re right. I should tell you. The truth is…I don’t know why I agreed to this. It only got worse when I heard about Hiroshi because…because I was part of Sombra.”

She braced herself for scrutiny, for an ad-hominin attack on her character based on one factor of herself. However, she wasn’t met with anything – no shouting, no physical attacks, nothing. Just Chieko looking at her with a strange, almost shocked look on her face.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Amaya asked, still braced for an attack.

“Well…” Chieko sighed, pulling Amaya closer, “Years ago, I might’ve been angry with you, but I understand things a lot more now. You didn’t kill my brother; you were just another victim of the same schemes, but unlike Hiroshi, you survived, and you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Amaya froze, tears welling in her eyes. She was so used to a more aggressive reaction to talking about her past; she expected the same from someone who had been obviously hurt deeply by the people she once considered like a family to her. This compassion was unexpected but still appreciated.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t expect that kind of reaction to finding out I was part of the people that killed your brother.”

“It’s fine. As I said before, you didn’t kill Hiroshi. The actual person who did in rotting in jail, thankfully. Trust me when I say it took me a lot of therapy to get to this point. If you had met me back when the wound was still fresh, I probably would’ve killed you given the chance.”

“Hah, I probably would’ve done the same thing to you back then. But…I love who you are now…and I probably would’ve loved who you were back then.” She didn’t mean to use the word “love” like that, but she knew she meant it deep down.

Chieko laid down on Amaya’s bed. Slightly confused, Amaya lay down beside her, staring at her with widened eyes.

“Your room is adorable.” Chieko giggled, looking around at all the decorations she had collected over the years.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Amaya blushed, “I actually decided to decorate it the way I wanted it as a kid, but my parents could never afford to give me a room this nice. It’s helped me a bit with healing from what happened when I was younger.”

“Hmm…maybe I should do something similar with my room. I’d have to travel a lot to collect all the souvenirs that I had to sell to feed myself, though.”

“I’ll come with you. I think travelling around a little might do me some good. Sombra used to send us all over the world for missions, but doing it on my own will might help with the healing, maybe even more than what I’ve done with my bedroom.”

“You could combine the two together. I know there’s a lot of things in Japan that’ll go nicely in your room.”

“Really? You’ve been to Japan before.”

“I mean, I was born there.”

“Damn…it seems like everyone but me has been to Japan before.”

“Well, if we’re going to go to Japan together, I’d recommend going in spring. I’ve heard your favourite colour is pink, and we usually have huge festivals with picnics, viewing parties, and usually a lot of sake.”

“I’m not sure I’d enjoy the sake part, but the rest of it sounds fun.”

“Alright then, it’s settled; we’ll go to Japan…next spring?”

Amaya smiled softly. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

[gaybd1]

okay let’s dive into this religious trauma lol it’s Brand New and I haven’t articulated it before and would love any advice or guidance bc I can’t afford therapy rn lololol

idk

Ok I grew up in a SUPER evangelical area like kids would stay home from school on Halloween and nobody was allowed to read Harry Potter… that kind of place. All the businesses would close on Sundays, you get it.

My dad actually wasn’t religious until I was 7 years old and he was Born Again and got EMBARRASSINGLY into it

I went to church every Sunday and like a Bible club every Wednesday where we no joke just memorized Bible verses and practiced proselytizing

My parents became missionaries and I spent a lot of my childhood practicing Religious Imperialism in Guatemala

I knew from a young age it was Wrong to be gay (trans wasn’t even in my vocab)

My family was REALLY in the Spiritual stuff which I still believe in because I saw these things happen but am trying to wrap my head around what the actual context might have been: possessions, real life miracles, stuff involving spirits and demons

Two important things happened when I was 14 which were a HUGE basis for the rest of my life:

1. I heard the word “transgender” for the first time. I looked it up and IMMEDIATELY knew that was me but had a HUGE freak out because I thought I would go to hell and I couldn’t lose my family so I immediately decided to repress it which I successfully did for another 6-7 years

2. I had a Religious Breakdown and was like “why am I doing all this bullshit do I even believe in it??” and then I swear to god (hehe god) I suddenly felt the Holy Spirit inside me. Like I’ve felt it since and I can’t describe it but it’s a serious light and presence inside me and I still honestly don’t know what else could explain the feeling

Anyway are these two things related who knowssss

Anyway I kept it up, walking the walk, talking the talk, pushing myself WAY more into femininity

In the first year of college I started IDing as non-binary just to give my still-repressed inner boy SOME relief

By this point I was SO over the proselytizing imperialistic aspects of Christianity but was still 100% in it for the spiritual elements

That summer I started working at a Christian summer camp full time for $100 a week (yeah, and they pressured us to donate some of that back to the camp) and it became my entire fucking personality I ate, slept, and breathed Jesus

I kept working there a few more years. I remember when the Pulse nightclub shooting happened my boss asked me to lead a prayer and I first of all had no idea why I was the one they asked lol but I also felt NOTHING about what had happened. (This memory terrifies me to this day)

At no time during any of this, did anyone tell me it was bad to be gay or trans. I just… had absorbed it all so much from my childhood that I kept pushing the narrative inside myself

A few years passed, I kept going to church and Bible studies, but I started to clear from some of that culty fog. Also my family was a lot less overtly religious at this point? My dad became a total asshole (that’s another post lol) and that kind of Killed the Jesus Mood there

I finally admitted I was trans and dug up those repressed feelings and WOW did I feel sick for what I’d done to myself for years when my identity was RIGHT FUCKING THERE

anyway I came out socially pretty quickly but was still kind of hush hush about it around home but also ASSUMED my family knew at this point, like they have eyes right?? (I was living back with my mom for Family Reasons and was sharing a room with my little sister omg ugh)

I kept going to church and listening to my Christian Music that I swore made me feel the Holy Spirit through all of this

People would give me Looks all the time and I probably was imagining like half of them at least but it still wasn’t a great vibe

I ended up moving to China and was able to find a Secret Illegal evangelical church to go to (THAT’S an entire other post) and I got really involved in the community there and at one point one of the church leaders was praying for me and asked god to like cure me of the confusion in my head and come back to my true identity or some bullshit??? that was so fucking jarring to me I never went back

I’ve started feeling more strongly about my weird feelings since then (that was like 5 years ago?) and haven’t gone to church since then but still tried to keep up the more spiritual aspects like prayer and reading the Bible. I’d go to church when I visited my family and would be fine talking to my mom about more spiritual stuff like prayer and following the Holy Spirit, etc.

My enthusiasm has been fading over time but I kept hanging on to “well I feel the Holy Spirit so this all must be real even though modern Christianity is so perverted from the true tradition but I still love Jesus so I’ll keep following him on my own even though churches suck”

And now pretty recently I’ve been like “okay actually no there are a lot of fucked up people who call themselves Christians and are just evil. I’ve been so hurt by Christianity throughout my life to the point that I denied my OWN identity for years without even being told to. I’ve definitely got some trauma to unpack”

And NOW super recently I have like palpably negative emotional reactions when I see anyone talking about Christianity or my mom mentions she’s gonna be praying for me or something. Like it seems like whatever trauma I have is getting worse??

I’d love to Get Over It…

ALSO if I ever told my mom how I’d feel she’d be so fucking disappointed in me bc she’s been drinking that kool aid her whole life and I CANNOT have my mom disappointed in me lol even though I’m pretty sure my siblings have similar feelings to me about religion

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2013 I’ve ended my friendship with Alison who, BTW, is good buddies with BOTH Kim and Molly after leading me to believe otherwise, and who is probably also still friends with Kathy as well.

Before I get into these phony liars and their twisted web of deceit, now that we got the right tools AND damn good paint (Glidden), we finished painting Tom’s office and it looks great. Yeah, you can still see the “sand” underneath the paint that we’ll never use again, but otherwise, we have a nice, even beautiful pale shade of lavender. We love it! Gonna get new drapes for that room eventually in either plum or ivory.

It really helped to get a roller brush with a longer nap, other brushes, plus a thing that makes pouring the paint easier and less messy. We also got painter’s tape and this little bucket thingy that has a compartment you pour paint in when climbing up to the ceiling to do the edging, plus a smaller compartment for your brush. Once it all came back to Tom, since we haven’t painted since we left Phoenix in 1999, and we had the proper tools, it went very fast. If God hadn’t slammed so many fucking doors in my face by cursing me with this type of sleep disorder, I can see myself enjoying painting people’s homes. It’s a lot like coloring, only you have a very big coloring book. I’m pretty good at it, though I had a hard time keeping the roller steady at first. I think it’s most important not to settle for cheap paint. Cheap paint without primer requires more than one coat and doesn’t go on evenly. If we do any touch-ups later on, say if we scuff the wall with something, it won’t look streaky or uneven. That’s another cool thing he got was this little tube you pour paint in with a mini roller brush on the end that sort of resembles the wheel of an office chair. This is for touching up later on. We’ll eventually have one in each color we use.

I slept until noon and went out running. I jogged the way down and mostly walked the way back. Hopefully, my hips and thighs won’t be sore. It’s gotta be what’s keeping my weight from climbing even more cuz I haven’t been dieting worth shit lately. I never should’ve sat on my ass and got so lazy with the physical activity like I did the year before moving since I keep everything I gain. At this age, what comes on simply doesn’t come back off, so if I don’t want to go from 30 pounds overweight to 50 or more, I gotta keep running. I like the way it makes me feel regardless. I have more energy, stamina and endurance. Still don’t have the range of mobility I used to have, but we do lose our flexibility as we age and gain weight. It is nice to know we still have some control. No, I’ll never be thin again, but I also won’t have a face like Kim’s so bloated that it practically swallows my nose and lips. Yeah, I – uh – uhem – I can be mean, too.

There are a lot of things I could do and say where the chummy little threesome is concerned, but I’d like to take the more mature approach to the situation by simply writing about what happened in my journal just like I would in the pre-internet days, then be done with it and move on. You see, my husband is the only smart one in this household. He has no friends at all. Not because he’s unlikable, and not because anything’s keeping him from going out and making them, but because he simply has no desire to socialize. Hell, I’m not a social butterfly either. At least I never was in person. In cyberspace, though, I’ve really gotten around, finding it fascinating to meet all different kinds of people in different parts of the world. My being multilingual has made this even easier to do. But it’s also caused me unnecessary headaches that I could certainly do without.

Andy said he finds it sad Tom has no friends and this totally baffles me. Why be sad for someone who is happy to be the way he is? If you want to be sad for someone, be sad for some poor miserable soul like Kim who hates herself so damn much that she can’t stand to be herself and therefore must pretend to be others. Be sad for the guy who has a heart of gold but can’t get a girlfriend cuz he’s fat, ugly and bald. Not someone who chooses to be what suits them best and makes them happiest. That’s like a straight person feeling sad for a gay person. I mean, why bother? Because what makes the straight person happy doesn’t make the gay person happy, too? Because it’s not “normal?” Well, others can do what they want and we always try not to judge others for how they choose to live, but we have no desire to stick to the “norms.” If it works for us, why change it, normal or not?

Another reason Tom doesn’t have a network of online friends is that he’s never really been interested in doing things that puts him in the public spotlight. Andy and I are into things where anyone can find and contact us easily enough. Tom doesn’t blog or care for sites like Ask or Twitter. He has some accounts because he may need them to enter contests, but his main online activities include games, TV and the news. No one’s put any chains on him. If he decides to make friends on or offline, he can. Meanwhile, as long as no one’s being harmed, people should have the right to do what they want. Do I feel guilty for looking out for myself by not being too sociable? Absolutely not.

What Andy did say that makes sense is that it’s better to make friends in person cuz online you don’t know what’s going on. He has a point there, but it’s also easier to cut ties with those who don’t live near you. So while I don’t care to “switch” to in-person friends, he is right about that much. Cyberspace is like walking through the woods at night. You never know what’s hiding behind the tree you’re about to pass by.

I haven’t been open to new friends for about a year now, it’s been working great for me, and if someone wants to get all sad about that and not for some poor innocent child dying of cancer or something, fine. I make no apologies for how I am, as always.

Anyway, after what I recently learned, I can kind of understand Andy’s trust issues and his desire to remain alone. Right now I am questioning almost everyone and everything I know, and I too, and wondering what/who I can believe. I’m tempted to drop everyone I never actually met in person, but I can’t see myself doing that to Nane, Adonis, Paul and others. Not unless they give me a reason to. This is getting kinda long, so let me post it, then I’ll finish the rest of the story when I have time. LOL, poor suckers have probably been stewing in nervous anticipation of just what I may write and when.

Later…

Ok, to finish the Aly and trolls saga. Will I post sensitive info? No, I won’t. Will I hold back from telling it like it is? No, I won’t. If they have a problem with that then they should’ve thought about this up front, and they should stop reading my blog, too. But sadly, while I may be done with them, I’m sure they’ll follow my every word and movement for life. I just wonder (and worry) how bad Aly’s going to become. She’s not crazy like Kim and Molly. She’s actually very intelligent. So hopefully, regardless of how hard she may take my discovering her lies and being dumped, she won’t lash out in ways that’ll annoy the shit out of me till she either gets sick of it or gets herself in trouble. I don’t think she will, but then again, I didn’t think Kim would turn on me the way she has either. Time will tell, but I’d like to think she won’t be a problem as far as trying to contact me goes.

I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes. But I always try to be a good, honest person and do the right thing, especially when it comes to those who have always been good and honest with me in return. I know that while God may or may not be for real, along with the afterlife, karma is for real. Therefore, I’d rather just end it with someone who’s wronged me rather than seek revenge on them. I’m too busy for that anyway. I hope they’ll do the same in return with me, but if not they’ll be the ones to deal with the consequences in the end more so than I ever will. Aly may be FBI, but I’m psychic. :) Not a threat; just a fact.

Then again, is she? Is she really with the FBI? Is Alison her real name? Does she really live in the state she says she lives in? Is she really the age she says she is?

There is nothing that shakes the very foundation of one’s ability to trust more than finding out you thought you knew someone that you really didn’t know at all. I can tell you she’s smart. I can tell you she’s a good writer. But at this point, I can’t tell anything else.

What is it with people? They lie, they cheat, they can’t accept you as you are, they judge you, they two-face you, they betray you, they try to control and change you, they stab you in the back, they pretend to be who they aren’t, etc. So… if we’re not presently friends, I don’t want to know you, and again, I make no apologies for doing what I feel is best for me. We bomb our homes to keep bugs away without regrets. Well, I’m closing doors to future friends to keep bullshit away… also with no regrets. :) The fewer friends the better. The more friends the more you get caught up in people’s bullshit.

I’m just glad I didn’t give Aly our exact address. The reason for this is because we’ve never been pen pals and I never expected us to be. Therefore, if anyone hacked her email account, my address wouldn’t be included. She could probably find out exactly where we live if she really wanted to, and while I used to worry about others having our address, I realize that’s a silly fear. What could they do with it? Come visit me? Send me a dead rat? Wish some of them would come visit me!

Anyway, to cut to the chase, I cut ties with Kim over a year ago for two facing me. She’d be sweet and kind to my face while dishing all kinds of hate and insults anonymously till I finally caught her at it. She would also lie to others I knew and eventually, I couldn’t tell fact from fiction and so I let her go. When I confronted her on my way out she reacted with a classic guilty reaction by deactivating the account she harassed me from, blocking me on others, and then trying to turn it around and make it look like I was the one bothering her. I thought that like most people, she’d eventually calm down and move on. Instead, she has been stalking and harassing me every chance she gets. She stalks more than she harasses, though, cuz I do my best to make it harder for people to contact me. I suppose I should open as many doors as I can to this crazy bunch, as the more unwanted shit that gets archived, the more they could get in trouble for it, but I’d rather not bother right now. Waste of time.

I guess I’m not going to finish what happened in this post either. Maybe next time!

Later…

Let me sum it up in a nutshell as to why I cut ties with Alison, then I’ll expand from there. She led me to believe that she dumped both Kim and Molly ages ago for harassing her. She told me she gets the “occasional” email from Molly, but that’s it. She even (supposedly) created an account as Kim and with Kim’s pic, which I believed was retaliation for her constant prying eyes, lies, phoniness and harassment.

And then I found it. Numerous accounts of both hers and Kim’s and even one that’s connected to Molly. Yes, Aly, Kim and Molly are ALL damn good buds and it appears they’ve been this way for some time now, especially Aly and Kim. They’re probably still buddies with Kathy too, even though the only one that supposedly is still her friend is Kim.

As I told Aly directly, it isn’t who she’s friends with that’s a problem. She has a right to pick and choose her own friends. It’s the fact that she’s lied to me about it, along with other things. Some things I can’t prove, but I trust what my gut tells me. In fact, I could kick myself for not listening to it sooner. I’ve had my doubts and suspicions on and off where Aly’s concerned, starting when I caught her telling Kim on Twitter that I was only telling Kim I had the cops after her to scare her off. This was supposedly to get Kim’s ass off of hers and to calm her down. By giving me away like that? Oh please! Just fucking please! I was horrified to see that. What a fucking traitor, I thought, but sure enough, she had her perfect little explanation waiting and ready to fire at me and I was dumb enough to fall for it. I guess back then I chose to see the good in Aly and I didn’t want to give that good side up. But now there’s been too many lies that have left me with too many doubts and suspicions. I have to let her go, good side or not.

I also have reason to believe she was behind the Karli M account and she was the one accusing me of harassing Molly and writing like Adonis. Kim wouldn’t be smart enough to do that, but she would be. I always suspected Kim had help in that one. I just never thought it would be from the person that was supposed to be my friend and that I thought I could trust. Kim and Molly may be crazy, but Alison and Kathy aren’t. Kathy’s mean and Alison, apparently, is a liar. Why the hell would someone tell you they think of calling someone’s local PD all the while being friends with them??? She hates her, she loves her, she likes her… I can’t figure her out anymore. I just can’t.

I also realize that she could’ve very well been involved in some of the harassment I’ve received on Ask as well as harmless questions she was, for some reason, afraid to let me know were from her. Maybe she’s the one who asked why I think racism is overrated. The point is that if she can two-face Kim by being buddies with her on Twitter while making fun of her in an account in her name, she can be doing the same thing to me. I don’t give a shit what they do in my name or what they say or write about me as long as they stay away from me, but as I told her, it’s gotten to the point that I can’t tell what’s real anymore. The lies, the excuses, the phoniness… I don’t need the drama. She’s killed the trust I had in her and frankly, I don’t know that I could believe a damn thing she says. Friendship must be based on trust and if there’s no trust, there’s no friendship. At least not for me. I have enough self-respect for myself to pull away from those I’ve caught in lies.

I guess that just like some women are drawn to abusive men, some people are drawn to toxic friends. She chose to tweet multiple times a day, every day to this proven lying, phony, obsessive stalker while ignoring me, someone who’s always been good to her and honest with her, for days on end. That alone tells me what kinds of “friends” she prefers to have.

She said that while she’s made mistakes and feels bad about it, I believe/see the worst in her, but it’s not a matter of what I believe; it’s what I see. It’s what she’s proven to me. I’m not just guessing anymore or suspecting she may be lying and maybe even into worse things than just saying she’s not friends with those she is friends with. Take the constant changing of accounts and email addresses for example. That’s usually a sign of someone trying to cover their tracks, but I was dumb enough to fall for her line of “I’m trying to escape and hide from so and so” or “I lost my PW and don’t remember the email for that account or “I just can’t log in.”

It all began when I went hunting for some of the dozens and dozens of Kim accounts on Twitter to block them. Sure I knew she’d just create new ones, but why make it easier for her? It was when I stumbled upon one of Kim’s Glee fan accounts that I found one she tweeted to and thought, hmm… that seems like a name and avatar Aly would use. When I realized it was indeed her I was a little upset but my first thought was she was only following Kim to see what shit she may be up to without letting her know who she really was. But when I saw that she mentioned her interests, her location, her cat, every single suspicion I’ve had about her, if only for a fleeting moment, went flashing through my mind and I said, “Ok, we’re done. We’re definitely done now.” Then when I found another account of Aly’s that’s connected to both Kim and Molly, I said, “Ok, we’re doubly done. No doubt about it.”

There were tweets about setting up accounts on MO and MM, whatever the fuck that means. Anyone know what MM is? Molly also said something to the effect of pretending to be Jodi. I asked Tom if I could go down for any accounts they created in my name that they either made threats from or did anything illegal from, and he said no. So fine, let them entertain themselves. If anything, Aly made escaping the other trolls easier for me cuz now there’s no connection to them. But she can have the fuckers. If she feels crazy liars are better for her, hey, it’s a woman’s prerogative, right?

Aly told me she was happier spending more time offline and I would often go days without hearing from her. In reality, she’s been scrabbling her little heart out and tweeting away with Kim daily, who she says that when you look beyond her obsessive ways is not that bad. Not that bad? Not that bad?!?! I guess we have a different definition of what’s not that bad, but being sweet and kind to one’s face while anonymously insulting them seems bad enough to me. So is telling lie after lie and impersonating others.

When I messaged Aly about the creation of the Karli account, she amazingly replied to me with perfect timing. You know, after supposedly being offline for days? Of course she denied it was her, and maybe it wasn’t. But I don’t doubt she at least knew about it and was behind leaving Molly comments as Adonis. Like a fool, though, I took her word for it when she denied any involvement.

There are other little things along the way that I thought were weird or that didn’t quite make sense, but that is for my next entry. My, my, I’m on a roll with the writing tonight, aren’t I?

Later…

I don’t wish any harm to Alison and her little friends. Just that she and the demented others leave me alone. What I mean by “leave me alone” is not contact me. I don’t want any messages, tweets, emails, questions, friend requests or comments. If they want to write stories, lies and blogs all about me, fine. Just as long as they stay away from me and let me move on even if they can’t. Kim and Molly especially have proven to feel nothing but contempt for me anyway so why focus on me then?

Despite feeling hurt, angry and betrayed by Alison’s… what would I call it, double life? Double side? Either way, it’s not like I hope she gets run over by a bus or anything like that. The others can stuff an exhaust pipe up their asses and go for the ride of their lives for all I care, but for some reason, I don’t feel that kind of animosity toward Aly. Perhaps because we had a friendship in the midst of the lies. We had something. Molly and I were never friends and Kim and I didn’t have shit either. We couldn’t build the kind of relationship Aly and I had or have the kinds of chats we had cuz they weren’t intelligent enough. Dealing with Kim and Molly was like dealing with children. They couldn’t do things like catch errors in my stories because they wouldn’t know what to look for. Aly notices things others don’t. And while a part of me will miss Aly who I once considered one of my absolute best of cyber friends, I will remember the good times and that’s it. I don’t regret what we had, I’m just sorry she felt she had to deceive me like she did. I really thought she cared about me as much as I cared about her. I loved the hell outa her. Not in that way, of course, but I must’ve felt something. I hung on long after she outed my intentions to Kim and I began to suspect other things she may not have been truthful about.

I’m sure if I let her “explain” this one she’d be quick to tell me something like how she’s investigating Kim or is just doing this to keep her off her ass. Being friends with her didn’t keep her off my ass. There she was all lovey-dovey to my face just to let me know what she really thought of me anonymously. Very mean, crazy, hateful person.

And Molly – ugh! Like an idiot, I gave her one of Kim’s Twitter account links on Ask thinking I was doing her a favor and that they weren’t friends, and asked her not to post it. Sure enough, the dumb shit goes and posts it anyway saying, “Wow, she must be bored.” rolls eyes Fucking idiot. Always has been, always will be.

Back to the “intelligent” troll, though I honestly don’t think Alison qualifies for being labeled as a troll. Just a liar and a traitor. The strangest story Aly ever told me was that someone hacked one of Kim’s Facebook fan pages and used that account to message her sister Carol to tell her just how fucked up Kim is. I immediately thought that was weird. Who the hell else would Kim happen to know that happens to be able to hack accounts like Aly can that would contact the sister? Why not just go directly to the sister from their own account?

It isn’t just the big things like finding she’s friends with the trolls, but the subtle contradictions as well. One time I had her run a trace on an email address for me and she said something about having her own way of looking up either email addies or IPs, but recently she told me she didn’t know much about IPs.

As I reflected on the lies I’ve caught her in and the suspicions I have that I can’t prove but am probably right about, I realized the impact it could have on me later on down the road. People sometimes bide their time to look less obvious, then they strike with a vengeance. Again, I’m not saying Aly will harm me in any way, but if she really is with the FBI, well, that may not be like being God, but that’s probably runner-up to the US Marshals. If she were just a regular pig, that’d be one thing. Local cops are state. But the FBI is federal and the feds have a lot more flexibility, which means a lot more potential for abuse of power. She’s supposedly an analyst and not an actual agent, but close enough. She’s also had hacking training for her former job. Now someone somewhere knew it was me who left some comments on MO. They were so damn sure of it. They “know their way around sites,” they said. Well, the only way to know it was me would be to hack MO and read their visitor log. Would Aly take such risks all for the identity of a commenter? I guess that’s for her to know and me to wonder. Still, has she hacked any of my accounts without me knowing it? Tom says anyone can get a hold of programs that the FBI uses to crack PWs of those they’re investigating. Even he has one. He used it for some documents he had online that were encrypted.

Time will tell what if anything happens. I’m sure they’re not going to show up on my tracker, and whatever happens, I will deal with it accordingly. I’d like to think Aly wouldn’t mess with my accounts, but as she herself says on Twitter, she’s all about having fun and exploring her boundaries. Well, she reached the limit as far as the boundaries of our friendship go, so now we’ll see if she stretches the boundaries of the law or not… and I will be waiting and ready to deal with it if she does.

When I made my last check of their tweets (no, I’m not going to peak in after tonight cuz I don’t care to follow those I dislike) there was Aly and of course her buddy Kim, too. That one ran because that’s what she always does when she’s confronted. She probably just blocked me instead of deactivated, though. The skitzo literally has hundreds of accounts. Aly said something about making decisions tomorrow. Well, there’s nothing to decide where I’m concerned. We’re done. I’m just a memory for her now.

Another thing that sucks is that my secret accounts obviously aren’t the secrets I thought they were as far as the trolls go. If Aly hasn’t done so already she could give her beloved trolls my email addy and links to other accounts that I don’t want them to know about. Just how “secret” is the Ask account I use to keep in touch with Andy? He offered to change accounts, but nah, they’ll only find it if they really want to. Kim and Molly probably wouldn’t have brains enough to find it, but Aly would.

The thought of me thinking that Aly was my friend while secretly laughing at the games she and the trolls were playing (or at least games she knew the trolls were playing with me) really pisses the shit out of me.

At first I thought of shutting down all my accounts and creating new ones, but I’m not running. I haven’t done anything wrong and so there’s no reason to hide. If I shut down accounts in the future it will be for reasons not connected to them. If I allow anonymous comments round the clock, that too, will have nothing to do with them.

Alison could probably find any account I create, and why block any of theirs? They’ll only create new ones.

I think she probably is with the FBI based on what I’ve seen and read. Her name, location and age are probably real, but everything else is hit or miss.

Do I really need any more hit-or-miss friends in my life?

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2013 The painting of the second bedroom is proving to be a mixed bag. Unfortunately, we ran out of paint and realized that the tools we purchased weren't suitable for the job. We should have bought individual tools instead of opting for the set. While the Palest Lavender paint itself is excellent and doesn't emit a strong odor, the texture we added was ultimately a waste of time. Despite thoroughly stirring it into the paint, the texture appears uneven, resembling clumps of sand on the wall overlaid with paint.

Furthermore, the thick and clumpy consistency of the paint made it challenging for Tom to avoid hitting the quarter round along where the walls and ceilings meet. We may opt to replace those altogether.

On a brighter note, I appreciate how mixing the primer into the paint means we only need to apply one coat. It effectively covers dark scuffs and marks, indicating it will also cover the remaining sections of dark paneling well. Regardless, the room is bound to look better with its new color.

The question now is how to proceed with the next rooms. Should we leave the strips and forgo spackling, opting instead for plain old paint and primer? Or should we consider renting a spray-on texture device to emulate the plastered appearance achieved in Jesse's trailer bedroom, which boasted the most modern-looking walls in the whole place?

Life otherwise remains unchanged - my dreams continue to feature one or both of my parents, the fight for marriage equality persists, racism remains prevalent, and the dry weather persists, albeit conducive to faster paint drying.

Later on…

It amuses me how many people equate weight with fitness. Thinness doesn't always correlate with good health, believe me. When I was thin, I couldn't run a mile non-stop, but now, as an aging individual carrying extra weight, I can.

Tom has also abandoned his diet. Losing weight seems impossible as we age, and any progress made often seems fleeting, with the lost pounds returning like a wayward pet finding its way back home. While I strive to maintain fitness through exercise and sensible eating, I acknowledge that weight gain is inevitable as I age. I may gain a pound every six months to a year, rather than every six minutes as I initially feared. Ultimately, my concern lies more with how I feel rather than how I look or others' perceptions of my appearance. I don't want to lose the ability to bend over comfortably due to excessive weight gain.

I'm genuinely curious how individuals like Kim, who weigh 330 pounds or more, find clothing that fits them. Even plus sizes must have their limits, right? At such a weight, where does one find suitable clothing?

It's intriguing how every time Kim visits my Twitter page, I'm recommended more of her fan club accounts, which I promptly block. I wonder how she manages to keep track of all the emails and passwords. This fixation, coupled with her refusal to heed those who have asked her to stay away, appears to consume her entire life.

Tomorrow, we plan to purchase more paint and a roller brush with a longer nap to ensure better coverage, as the current one didn't reach into the grooves adequately. We'll also need to replace the quarter rounds with new quarter or crown moldings. Additionally, painting the very bottom of the wall poses a challenge in the absence of baseboards. This is why I prefer to paint the entire place before installing the new carpet.

A follower made a valid point about textured ceilings accumulating more dust. While I appreciate their ability to reduce sound echoes, they do indeed attract dust, and attempts to clean them often result in more mess. Despite this, I still prefer their appearance over flat ceilings.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 2013 Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! Tom and I aren't big fans of turkey, so we're simply taking it easy, enjoying various foods, engaging in online activities, and preparing to paint the walls of the second bedroom. We've removed strips from the wallboard seams and plan to spackle them with joint compound. However, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to start painting, as we want the spackle to dry overnight. It's essential to ensure the paint doesn't seal in any moisture.

The surroundings have been eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the usual bustle. Come Monday, the landscapers will resume their work, maintaining the vast expanses of common space and individual properties. Within another month or so, all the leaves should have fallen, hopefully reducing the need for daily maintenance. Personally, I'd prefer if they replaced the grass and maples with quieter plants, but I understand the appeal of grass and leafy trees. Not all yards here feature grass; some opt for gravel or bushes instead.

I've discovered a new method for copying and reposting old entries to Blogger and Prosebox. I hope I'm not overwhelming anyone on Prosebox with my frequent posts, considering it attracts more traffic than the other blogging platforms I use. Although it's relatively new, Prosebox seems to have garnered millions of users, mainly composed of former OD users dissatisfied with the platform's decline.

Alison created a fan page for Kim M on MO, using an exaggerated caricature of her face with oversized glasses. Despite spreading the link far and wide, Kim hasn't reacted thus far.

Later on…

I must say, I did an excellent job cutting Tom's hair today, and he agrees. Initially skeptical about the new trimming shears he bought, I found them surprisingly easy to use once I got the hang of them, albeit a bit tedious and time-consuming due to his lengthy hair. We set the shears to trim his hair to a uniform length of one inch, slowly passing them over his head multiple times to ensure each hair was cut evenly.

Unfortunately, we ran out of spackling for the bedroom walls, but we decided to use that room as a test area instead of rushing out to get more. Tomorrow, it will be painted a pale lavender, which we're both looking forward to.

I'm surprised Bubble Face hasn't updated her little fan blog. What's her next move? Perhaps impersonating me and calling Molly using my area code? It's infuriating to think about, and I find myself seething with anger. I haven't felt this enraged in a long time, especially towards someone who seems to revel in causing distress to others. If only that despicable person would face consequences for her actions.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2013 It seems my LJ posts are still cross-posting to Twitter, despite my protected tweets, all thanks to a certain nosy individual who can't seem to move on. Since I can't decide where to blog, I suppose I'll just blog everywhere except for MyOpera. Why bother blogging on a platform slated for shutdown?

No unsettling dreams last night, but predictably, my parents made an appearance. I half expected them to ambush me once I fell asleep. However, they only featured briefly in a couple of dreams. Instead, the focus was primarily on my Italian parents. In one dream, I visited them in a ground-floor apartment of a large building. As I approached the front door, I could see into their living room. Dad was asleep, but Mom was reading. She greeted me with a smile, and I began conversing with her in sign language to avoid waking Dad, amusingly enough. Additionally, I found myself surprisingly agile, effortlessly navigating what seemed to be a mound of snow or a sand dune.

Waking up with a scratchy throat, I'm unsure whether it's due to a cold or the dry weather. Regardless, I'm combatting it with copious amounts of hot coffee and a throat lozenge.

Sunday's forecast boasts temperatures nearing 70°. While it's chilly at present, I'm determined to tackle my walk early. It feels like I'm perpetually bloated, prompting me to wonder if this will continue until I literally burst. My menstrual-like symptoms persist, and I suspect it might be the onset of menopause as I'm just shy of turning 48. While I haven't experienced hot flashes, I've been plagued by frequent bouts of lightheadedness, which I can only describe as a rush in my head. Nonetheless, I won't dwell on it; it's hardly worth mentioning.

Later…

The kitchen sink remains clogged despite my efforts with drain opener, so I'll leave it for Tom to handle when he returns, as I'm at a loss for what else to do.

I opted for a light jog, nearly reaching the front gate. Maintaining a pace of just under 4MPH, I aimed to avoid burnout, cramping, or injury. On the return journey, I mostly walked.

Catching sight of myself in the master bathroom's sizable mirror, I realized that perhaps fate isn't entirely against me. Yes, I may be overweight, a fact I've come to accept with age, but my face still holds some semblance of attractiveness, and I appear relatively healthy and fit despite the extra pounds. I acknowledge I shouldn't be so harsh on myself, especially considering there are many younger individuals facing more significant challenges.

That's all for now. I'm in a sluggish mood, enjoying the peace and quiet of today.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2013 The pricey rat toy I won arrived yesterday, and Romeo just LOVES it. Sugar doesn’t really care, but Romeo loves to chase the thing all around the room. It’s a feather at the end of the string, which is attached to a wand that sort of resembles a fishing rod. Once we have lighter-colored carpet where he’ll show up better, I’ll make some videos.

Got a holiday card from Paula, which is nice. I’ll get a letter off to her soon enough.

I’m enjoying the last of the peace until the banging and buzzing start. Next door was back to parking in the carport, coming and going and slamming doors. Most of the door slamming was at the house they’re trying to sell that they’re obviously having a very hard time selling. This is a very expensive park. They need to lower the price on that house first, as big and as luxurious as it is. Especially since it’s on the edge.

Anyway, something was going on again next door. That same white pickup returned that had some boxes in back of it. Also, the SUV was parked at the end of the driveway, which means something was going on in the garage. I could hear movement in there every time I went to use the bathroom.

I think I forgot to mention that on Saturday morning Tom and I went to Home Depot. We picked up a gallon of Palest Lavender paint to do the second bedroom. He’ll have four days off this week, and that’s when we’ll do the painting.

I’m trying to decide if I want to go around to all my blogs and delete all the old entries and just have it be from the here and now. It’s just so much work to sync and manage the blogs and to edit this and that, but then again, deleting everything would take time and work, too. I can just turn my first MD account private because I don’t use it anymore anyway, but I just can’t decide what I want to do for sure. I think to myself that I should get rid of past posts because they are after all in the past, but the entries I write today will eventually be in the past too, so I’m not sure what I want to do. I’m undecided at the moment.

Later…

Now let’s talk about Kim. Yeah, the dumbshit had to know she’d eventually get caught with her latest fake profile impersonating Aly, just like she gets caught with everything else, right? And she had to know I’d mention it too, right? Does she actually WANT me to bash her in my blogs? Does she actually LIKE it when I do? Well, this isn’t about what Kim M wants, but what’s happening to a friend and how I choose to write about it. I was going to make private or deactivate every account she knows about so she has nothing to stalk, but that’s what KIM does when she’s been caught at something. Meanwhile, I haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not running. I’m through trying to hide from this crazy bitch. Let her read every word of my blogs for the rest of her life if she wants. I don’t care what she thinks. I’m not obligated to her, and after all she’s done to me and my friends, I’m not in any position to give her any respect or privacy when it comes to airing out the stunts she’s pulled on us.

Yesterday I was so fucking pissed at her I could’ve strangled the living shit out of her! Damn her and her same old fucking shit that goes on year after year after year! If I ever visit my family in New England, I’m stopping in Stafford Springs. You can count on that. Just five minutes alone with her. Just five minutes!

The problem is that our hands are tied because she hasn’t used our exact names, and she’s lashing out at us through Molly’s account and not any of ours. This is a professional stalker who knows the ropes well. She’s done this for years, and she knows what’s legal and what’s not. She’s breaking the law without quite breaking it. I’m pretty sure she’s had/has help and is not acting alone. I knew her to be dumb and immature, so that’s why I think someone’s helping her. At the time I didn’t realize the depth of her insanity, and if someone had told me a few years ago, “Piss her off, and she’ll stalk you for life,” I’d have been like, “Kim? Nah, no way.”

I realize I gotta stop thinking she’s gotten sick of me just because I’ve made it hard for her to contact me directly, not that she has the guts to contact me from an account, bogus or not, on any of my own accounts. She will only do so anonymously or through other people’s accounts like her latest, Karli M account on MyOpera, which I have reported. Funny, though, cuz she can’t delete, deny, and delude when it comes to this account. Only MO can ban it. If not it will sit there till the site shuts down in March. The Karli account uses much of Aly’s real info, so that’s why I first thought it was really Aly and couldn’t figure out why she would defend someone like Molly and point a finger at me. But Kim has always had a deep-seated hatred for me that I never could fathom, and so she WOULD point a finger at me. And she WOULD try to steer any suspicions away from Kathy cuz they’re still friends as far as I know. They can have each other! Although I don’t know why, Kim has hated me since day one. Why she bothered to pretend to be my friend for a couple of years, I don’t get. It wasn’t until I caught her two-facing me on Ask with the nasty anonymous comments that I realized she was no friend at all, and that’s when I dumped her. But this was well over a year ago, for God’s sake! Get over it and move on! I honestly wonder if this sick twist pays more attention to those that don’t want a damn thing to do with her than those who do (until her true colors shine brightly).

Meanwhile, she checks my blogs, Ask, Twitter, and other accounts religiously, along with others she’s harassed and is still harassing every chance she gets, and the longer it goes on, the more I’m convinced she’s NEVER going to stop. How sad that this crazy elephant has nothing more to look forward to in life than food, celebs, impersonating people, and cyberbullying. That’s her whole life. I don’t understand why someone this crazy hasn’t been placed in a controlled environment.

I could kick myself for letting her fool me like she did, but she did such a good job of making herself look like Allison that I actually believed it for a minute there. So did Molly, who she’s also texting as Aly by changing the area code on her phone to make it look like she’s in another location. She does this when visiting my blogs too.

As bad as Molly could be in the past, she definitely doesn’t deserve what she’s gotten. To the best of my knowledge, Molly may still be unstable, moody, pushy, and needy, but she hasn’t bothered anyone lately. Why she bothers to allow for comments unless she actually wants the attention is beyond me. All she has to do is disable that and block Kim, then she can blog in peace without the unwanted shit sprinkled in.

I blame myself just as much as I blame Kim for getting me all riled up. Had I not bothered to follow Molly’s damn blog, I wouldn’t know what’s going on. Ignorance really is bliss so I won’t be looking in on anyone’s blog there, fake or not, while the site still exists.

I also feel bad for suspecting Adonis, but the fat tub of shit was apparently smart enough to take note and remember how he writes and how he often connects his contractions from when she was on my Facebook friend list. He also has his own account on MO and has left comments on it. That’s how trolls find those they obsessively stalk. They don’t just look up the people directly, but will link to their friends as well.

It was her erratic writing style that finally gave her away as well as a little detective work I’m not at liberty to discuss which confirmed her identity. The only other thing I’ll say is that it hit me that the person had to be in the US. Adonis is in EU and there’s no way he could get his profile to say he was in the US. I know this because somebody once wanted to make an account look like they were in Australia to avoid trolls, and it would not let them. Even though they chose that country for their location it still said they were in the US whether they wanted it to or not.

They say the crazy only gets crazier with time. If she would just start harassing me directly on a regular basis I could then have her dealt with and be done with her. IDK, maybe instead of trying to close doors to her and lock her out of my life I should fling them wide open and throw out a welcome mat. Maybe I should help pave the way to make it easy for the nutjob to incriminate herself. If she would only have the guts to contact me from an account instead of just anonymously!

After being fooled by the connected contractions, my second guess was Kathy. She is a very vengeful person, but she recently had a kid and so her life is over for a while. At first, I was hoping she would lose the kid as I thought it was high time that the spoiled little princess learned what it’s like to lose and actually not get something you want. As far as I could tell from back when I knew her, she would get every single thing in life she ever wanted, just not always as fast as she’d like. She never learned what it’s like to be deprived of anything, and that made her a very insensitive person. She would pretend to be sympathetic to you, but she didn’t really give a shit. Kim also lacks empathy, but I believe in her case it’s just plain insanity. Psychopaths and sociopaths are unable to feel and experience emotions like sympathy, apathy, empathy, guilt, and pity.

Now I’m glad Kathy had the brat. The thing is actually doing me a favor by coming into existence because now Kathy won’t have the time to bully anyone. Not unless harassing others is more important than taking care of it. So now I can get a break for at least a few years… until the damn thing gets older.

Later…

Still can’t decide if I want to delete old entries from all my blogs or just edit anything I feel should be edited and leave it as is. LiveJournal is the only blog that crossposts to other sites. With other blogs, I kind of have to help them. It’s also easy to override if there’s something I don’t feel is Facebook-friendly.

Last night I had a dream that Kathy and I were friends again. Only she was still pregnant, and we met in person. She was at my house, which didn’t look like my house, as is usually the case in dreams. Tom worked second shift, and I was worried because he never came home that night.

The next morning, I found myself at Kathy’s, sipping coffee with her in her kitchen and admiring the lovely new blue carpet she had recently acquired. I expressed my concern about Tom, who still hadn't returned by the time I had awakened.

In other news, my friend Christine got engaged, and I couldn't be happier for her! Despite being a few years younger than me and residing in Ohio, she has found someone to spend the rest of her life with. Christine has been a loyal follower of my blog for years.

Observing my neighbor return from his first outing of the day and park in the garage, I concluded that there wouldn't be much activity there today.

Later, I realized the source of a troubling dream involving Tom failing to return home after his second shift. Unfortunately, reality mirrored my dream as we discovered fraudulent charges on our credit card. Thankfully, Tom's vigilance in monitoring our accounts enabled us to notify the bank before significant damage was done.

In response, I undertook my familiar routine of rearranging my blogs, a serious hobby of mine. I made my first MD private since I no longer utilized it, and restricted access to all my LJ posts prior to this month except for my bio. Additionally, I purged Blogger of recent entries and pared down my PB books, preserving only essential content such as my bio, short story, and our narrative since moving in.

This clean slate allows me to refresh my content periodically while retaining everything on my hard drive.

Now, I must decide which platforms to continue using. Aly and I have safeguarded our tweets, rendering LJ's cross-posting feature obsolete for that purpose. I have opted to continue sharing posts exclusively on Facebook.

Despite my aversion to unwanted scrutiny, I refuse to be intimidated into hiding. Therefore, I intend to maintain all four of my blogs. And while I harbor no ill will toward Molly, I harbor strong sentiments against Kim M, whose actions warrant condemnation to the fullest extent.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2013 Wish I knew why this darn dictation program of mine takes forever to launch, but anyway, Nane has identified our mystery flower. She says it’s a Camellia, and when I looked up pictures of it, it does seem to look exactly like it. So thanks to her, we now know what it is. I guess Camellia trees can grow to be about 8 or 9 feet tall.

I also wish I had more to write, but I can’t think of anything right now. I’m just enjoying the peace before the daily landscapers hit the scene. Running a load of dishes through the dishwasher and having the robot vacuum for me now. These gadgets really do make my life a little bit easier, especially the robot.

Can’t remember any dreams from last night, but it’s hard to believe I didn’t have any. I think I’ll go copy and sync some of my blogs like I have been.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2013 OMG, this is too funny! Can't post it online, though. Out of a moment's boredom, I decided to say hello to Molly on Ask. I mentioned knowing her from WordPress, a place where I know she's blogged, and randomly chose the name Amanda. I asked if she remembered me, and she replied, "Yes, how are you?" LOL.

I made my LiveJournal blog public again just for the hell of it. I like how that's the only blog that automatically posts to Twitter; I have to do it manually from other blogs. Maybe I'll have it post to Facebook too. If I do, though, no graphics will show in the preview on FB since I usually don't add any there. Only the skinny blogs seem to look good with graphics. My LJ template is a wide-set one. I also like how LJ posts what songs I'm currently listening to on Last.fm.

Got a message from Tammy. She's been through quite a nightmare and still is. While the knee surgery went well, there's been one mess-up after another, she says. Not getting her meds on time, nurses showing up late to the house, etc. Maybe this will finally be it for her for a while. She seems to have gotten everything "fixed" that can be fixed, and her lungs stabilized.

I won a $35 feather cat toy that the cats will no doubt love. It's on a stick that you set up for them.

We have several bushes along the side by the kitchen with yellow flowers. We also have a beautiful tree that's now sprouting these totally gorgeous pink flowers that don't smell but seem so velvety soft. I shared pics on Facebook. Maybe Tammy or Norma can identify them. There are no thorns, which rules out roses, and the leaves aren't right for carnations or peonies.

There's also this strange arrangement of shells and rocks that made me think of a grave marker. The realtor said they never had a dog, but could they have had a cat? Sugar can fit under the oven and he pulled out an old tennis ball the other day.

My period is now 11 days late. If menopause is setting in, fine. Just wish my body could stop feeling so PMS-y if no period is coming.

I also wish my parents would get the hell out of my dreams, whether it's my subconscious conjuring them up or themselves checking in from the other side. I'm beginning to think more and more it is them. Just a feeling. As long as they don't go chasing me off cliffs and stuff like that; but that's part of why I think it's them. Assholes or not, they wouldn't go chasing me off cliffs in real life, so why would they in dreams? The dreams are usually quite trivial.

In last night's dream, I introduced a deaf boy to Dad, who acted like he could hear just fine minutes later, even though we would sign to each other. Then a young woman and I were hanging out with my mother. This time around I wasn't living with her, and I did seem to know Tom. The girl was getting married. I asked if she had kids and she said no. I asked if she was going to have them with her husband, and she rolled her eyes and said, "How old-fashioned. I'm going to work and win things like your mom won that."

She nodded toward some knickknack of sorts, and I said to Mom, "Oh, you won that?"

Mom nodded, and I said I wasn't sweeping anymore due to the economy, though the real reason these days is that there's too much competition.

She said, "The economy isn't bad."

"I fear it's going to get bad again," I said.

"Well, of course it will be bad again," she said.

Since no one seems to be able to help themselves when it comes to "liking" and commenting on my public Facebook posts, and they're not my responsibility to worry about, maybe I'll make it public there too. It's been over a year since the trolls contacted Andy, so we'll see.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2013 Believe it or not, it's just 39°F out there now, according to what I just checked. It gave me chills just seeing that. That's so damn cold for us!

I wish I had something more exciting to share other than complaining about the cold, but I really don't. I set aside my story once again, and we plan to pick up the paint for both bedrooms over the weekend. Eventually, we're going to replace these big old toilets, too. We have all kinds of upgrading plans, mostly of a cosmetic nature, for the next year or so. Despite having many thousands in savings, it's hard to get myself to spend more than a little at a time because of what happened a couple of years ago. Whereas I used to love to spend money, now I dread it. This newfound fear is only bolstering our savings, so there is some good in it. It's not growing much, though, because we have spent quite a bit since moving in.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2013 My furballs are having a blast playing in the box filled with packing paper. It's become their official play area when they're out and about. Yesterday was quite amusing. I had my dictation program running while working on my story once again when I felt Sugar tap me on the ankle to remind me of his presence. Then he started messing with the scented plug-ins. A few minutes later, I glanced back at my document and saw: "and then they went out to eat and no, no, no, get away from there. That's not a toy."

I received the incense I ordered, and while it's of good quality, it's not as fragrant as I'd hoped. I think I'll stick to Gonesh; they currently offer the best variety for the price. I should probably quit buying incense altogether once the new carpet and drapes are in, but I'm addicted to incense like some people are addicted to porn.

All the cleaning is done. Today is just laundry and workout day. Despite the cold and windy weather forecast for today and tomorrow, I think I'll go for a walk at sunrise. I just need to decide on my route. Should I circle the block? Head down to the gate? The clubhouse? Tennis courts? Golf courts? Maybe I'll take a walk through the cemetery. The only issue is I can't exit the park on foot like I once thought I could, at least not from the back.

I've decided to return to working on my story again. I'm still not sure if I'll meet the deadline with the required word count, but for now, I'm back in the NaNoNoveling business.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2013 We've had more rain in the last two days than we have since last spring. It's a welcome change, although I can understand how people accustomed to cold, damp, rainy weather most of the time might find it dreary and tiresome. It's not quite like the warm, summer rain you experience in tropical locales or during the desert's monsoon season.

A disappointing revelation from Tom this morning was that they were still blowing leaves along the perimeter even while it was raining. I had no idea they could do that. I inquired if they could still mow, as Andy mentioned they mow wet lawns there. Tom said it would depend on how wet it was. This news is disheartening. So much for relying on the rain to spare me from the daily landscaping cacophony. I really hope it returns to just a few times a week soon enough. The noise from car doors and traffic can be distracting enough as it is. I'm grateful to be on nights now, whereas before, I always preferred to be on days if possible. At this point, I'd rather stay on nights.

Since Alison stumbled upon my Prosebox account by accident, even though I used a username I've never used before, I'm certain I made the right decision by making my current book accessible only to members. This way, if anyone I don't particularly like discovers it, they won't be able to read beyond July when we moved in here. I'm posting essentially the same content on Blogger and MD, but this allows me to freely express my frustrations about those I despise without giving them the negative attention they crave. I can also voice any suspicions I have about people I'm connected to but not overly close to. If I'm close enough to them, I can simply approach them directly if I want to address any concerns.

So yes, trolls could find my account there, and yes, the owner plans to let Google index public blogs. But for now, the only blog they know about that I'm still using is Blogger.

For instance, this paragraph will only appear on Prosebox, and I want to mention that while Kim may not be as eager to leave anonymous comments on Ask, and she might still be hesitant to reveal herself on Blogger, she must be reading my tweets. Aly received an email alert for her latest of dozens of accounts, so I blocked it. I know she'll just follow me from another account, but why make it easy for the troubled individual? She's already blocked Aly. As if Aly cares? rolls eyes Trolls. Who can understand them? Kim may hide her identity, but I'll know if and when Molly finds me. She enjoys appearing on my tracker, almost as if she relishes thrusting her unwelcome presence in my face. She still checks blogs I no longer even use.

If I've ever had a weakness, it's been the compulsion to air out my grievances. Then again, maybe it's not necessarily a "weakness," but rather just a part of who I am. I prefer to address issues directly whenever possible. So I sent Maliheh a brief email asking, "If I said I was dying of cancer, would you care, or would you still consider me a 'mission' accomplished?"

As expected, I received no response. I encoded this message because I was curious to see if she would pick up on it. She did. She hit my tracker several hours later, but I realized it was because she accessed her messages and mine would be toward the top. Once it's pushed toward the bottom, TIP won't pick her up unless she opens the message.

Why she's reading and saving my emails after breaking up with me is beyond me. All I can think of is that she's hoping I'll say something incriminating. If she were genuinely interested in what I had to say, why wouldn't she follow my blog, too? Unless she's doing it anonymously, she's not following me any more than the individual from AZ. She's simply hoping to gather "evidence" that the spiteful, vindictive person can use against me, much like the individual from CT hoped to. So any future messages I send will have to be worded carefully and sparingly.

Later…

Since Ask and Blogger are public sites, I've decided to let those posts shared on Facebook be public unless someone "likes" or comments on them. If they do, since I just can't seem to get people to stop liking and commenting on my public posts, I'll make them friends only.

As most people who know me are aware, Tom spent six months tirelessly filling out job applications to no avail. When the government callously cut off our unemployment benefits before he found a job, we felt so desperate that we contemplated ending our lives to spare ourselves from a slow, agonizing decline on the streets. We're too old for that kind of hardship, and I, for one, couldn't handle life on the streets even when I was young. I'm simply not cut out for that lifestyle, and yes, I've come to despise a higher power for either directly subjecting us to suffering or permitting it to happen as if we hadn't already endured enough hardship.

At the very last minute, Tom not only landed a job, but it was one he hadn't even applied for. Instead, someone came across his résumé online. Meanwhile, Andy claimed he's the one who secured Tom's job after praying in the final hour to prevent losing another friend to suicide. He believes it was divine intervention that got Tom the job. If his belief is accurate, then who or what was trying to bring harm to us? It certainly seemed like something was determined to lead us toward our demise, though it's difficult to reconcile the idea that the same force that saved us was the one attempting to harm us. Do I believe there was a malevolent force pushing us toward death? Absolutely. Do I also believe something otherworldly intervened due to the timing being an incredible coincidence? Absolutely. I just can't determine what that force was. Prayer has never yielded much for me, but perhaps, just like there are individuals who never experience dream premonitions, there are those who can make prayer work for them. No, I didn't pray for a million dollars, in case you're wondering. I genuinely kept my prayers modest, fair, and reasonable. Maybe it's all about who God favors. Perhaps He saved us because He favors Andy but not because He cares about Tom and me. If that's the case, then I hope Andy remains on His good side because I've felt nothing but disdain and estrangement from Him throughout most of my life. As for me, I'll never forgive Him for at least permitting so many atrocities to befall me.

Speaking of prayer, I had a dream where I was out and about somewhere, and my purse was missing. I prayed that I would find it. I then entered a room and saw it sitting on a table. Excitedly, I rushed toward it, thinking, "I can't wait to tell Andy that God answered one of my prayers, too!" But when I grabbed the purse, I found it completely empty. It sort of dampens the excitement when you've still been deprived of what's most important.

They say that whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger, but I'm not so sure about that. I believe it's more accurate to say that difficult times may make us wiser, but they can also make us more fragile and anxious. Instead of instilling strength in me, it has left me with memories that I'll have to carry forever. Oh, it's certainly heightened my appreciation for the good times, but it's also contributed to my paranoia in some respects, leading me to spend too much time worrying that the past will come back to haunt me.

So, is Nane ignoring me? I feel comfortable mentioning it here because I'm certain she would never create an account here. Ever since I shared pictures with her showing the weight I've gained and my haircut, which she didn't like, it seems I'm hearing less and less from her. First, she said she was unwell, and then she mentioned covering for a colleague who was on vacation or something along those lines, yet I know she's been active on Facebook.

Although I can't recall the specifics, my parents appeared in several dreams once again. It seems that in most dreams where they're still alive, I don't seem to know Tom, and I'm living with them.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2013 Although it was written differently, the individual returned to Molly’s blog to express that it’s not Kim or Sarah who's bothering her, but rather someone who secretly wants to date her and is referred to as "one crazy fatty." I hate to admit it because I genuinely like Adonis, but I still have a suspicion it might be him, and that the "crazy fatty" he mentions could be me. After all, he's seen recent pictures of me, so he would know about my weight gain.

Adonis has always struck me as technically adept, so I wondered if he could somehow extract IPs from the comments to identify the troll (unless my paranoia has reached Molly's level). However, I couldn't think of a method. I examined both page sources and information but found nothing useful. I'll ask Tom when he wakes up if he knows of any way to extract IPs from comments left on blogs and various sites. If anyone reading this has any insights, please let me know.

It's still possible that the culprit is Kim, Kathy, or Sarah, but if so, why haven't they mentioned my name? Could it be because it's someone who still considers themselves enough of a friend not to want to go that far?

Pretending to be oblivious to my suspicions, I messaged Adonis, who now claims that Adonis isn’t his real name… yet. Hmm… just how well do I know my friend from the Netherlands?

As for the troll itself, it's still regularly monitoring all my blogs, even the ones I'm not actively using.

My sister’s knee surgery went smoothly, and her recovery is expected to be successful. I anticipated as much and am not surprised, despite the pain she must be experiencing.

I was taken aback (and annoyed) to hear music coming from what seemed to be the house behind ours between 7 PM and 8 PM last night. I could distinguish that it was definitely from a house and not a car because I could hear the beat of the drums, not just the bass. I didn’t think this sort of thing happened here, though.

I've made my current Prosebox book accessible only to members. It's the one place where I voice my suspicions about others, which may or may not be accurate, and where I can discuss people I know—yet care about—without offending or hurting their feelings. Prosebox is the one space where I can be completely honest and upfront with people I've met only through the site or OD. It's not that I'm opposed to being honest and upfront with others, but I prefer to be certain about what I'm revealing. Why confront someone who may not be guilty of what I suspect them of? Right now, it's just a gut feeling. I suspect that someone I considered a friend, who seemed to genuinely like me, might actually harbor negative feelings toward me. Why they wouldn't express these feelings if that's the case is beyond me. Then again, a certain individual in CT didn’t admit to her actions until I caught her red-handed, so who knows why some people are hesitant to express their true thoughts at times. I suppose only they know.

Rain is forecasted for the next few days, but I'll be asleep for most of it anyway.

I received some of my birthday gifts yesterday, and this morning, we might put up the rat and lady wall decals on the doors.

I've begun the arduous task of unsubscribing from the numerous emails sent to the account I use for sweepstakes entries, so I can continue using the account without being inundated with so much junk.

Later…

I had a dream that my parents were still alive and sent a couple of birthday cards. I was reading the notes they included to Tom. He asked something like, “Can I see?” and I handed him one of the cards. The more frequently they appear in my dreams, the more convinced I become that they're not merely figments of my imagination. It’s THEM. At least, a part of me believes it is, although I'm still not entirely convinced and still cling to the hope that they somehow live on.

There are other occurrences, like sensing someone's presence when I'm alone, and so forth. One night when I was a child, I woke up to use the bathroom. Upon returning to bed, my mother followed me and, in one of her rare displays of affection, tucked the covers around me when I got back into bed.

As I was drifting off to sleep this morning, I felt my mother tuck me in. Or did I? I didn't see anything, but it's what I felt and sensed. I was nearly asleep when I could've sworn I felt (her?) adjust the covers by an inch or so. I'm still not entirely convinced that the spirit world exists, but each time something like this happens, I wonder a bit more.

We're finally experiencing some real rain. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to deter yesterday's leaf blowers. Even though it wasn’t actually raining at the time, I was like, NOOO!!! They can't possibly be out there blowing WET leaves. But sure enough, at 8:50 AM, that's exactly what they were doing.

I managed to apply the pink rat decal to the second bedroom door without any issues. There weren't any air bubbles, and it wasn't too difficult to install at 22x14 inches. The 22x75-inch lady, however, presented a challenge. She looks fantastic, but there are some air bubbles. White was a good color choice, too. Initially, I debated between lilac or light blue but white turned out to be the perfect match for the dark brown door.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2013 Haven’t heard from Aly in over a week now and am a bit worried. I’m also wondering just how well I know my friends. Like Adonis, for example. Does he really like me and think good of me? Or is he harboring nasty thoughts I don’t know of?

On Molly’s newest blog, someone has been defending her and saying they think it’s just one person picking on her there and that “she” has a lot of time on her hands and does it cuz she hates herself.

The reason I suspect Adonis is cuz of the way he connects words instead of using contractions. He writes donot, shouldnot, havenot, etc. Someone once said she “shouldnot” be online due to her behavior and I immediately suspected Adonis then, and said I had a dream about him pulling a prank on someone as a test. Right away he asked me to delete my mention of the dream.

I decided to say that someone mentioned his name on her blog and asked if he knew anything about it. He said he was in a hurry, would check it out later, but no, it “couldnot” be him.

Do I believe him? No, I’m afraid not. But how does he know it’s me? Yes, it really is me. I admit it. Not in public, of course, but yes, I’ve anonymously said some things Molly didn’t like, like how she makes people give up on her when she wrote that Kim, Kathy and me have given up on her. It’s very true, and well, even though she’ll never change I just felt compelled to speak up and point that out. She was sure to stay away from my MO and LJ blogs yesterday, but she did try to access my Blogger blog from Ask.

Back to Adonis. If it was him and if he does think it’s me, does he really think I hate myself and have too much time on my hands? And if so, why is he my friend then, and why would he suddenly defend this nut who has caused me and others so much grief along with her mother???

Tom says I’m being paranoid and jumping the gun, as it’s a common writing style with some people whose native language isn’t English. They don’t know where to put the contractions, so they combine the words. But who else on MO writes like that that would be nice to her and that would suspect just one person? And how did he find her if it is Adonis? Probably checked my page and linked through from the ‘latest visitors’ section.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 2013 I hit a wall at over 26,000 words. I simply can’t conjure up any fresh and captivating twists for my story. I've come to the realization that I'm essentially regurgitating the same tired variations of the same tired themes. My well of imagination seems to have run dry. Ah, the joys of getting older! While we may gain wisdom and maturity (usually), we also seem to lose our visionary spark, our vitality, our metabolic edge, and eventually, our knack for innovation. My creative juices have all but dried up. Nothing feels novel or exhilarating anymore. Take Hawaii, for example. Sure, it's thrilling, but not nearly as exhilarating as it would've been in my early twenties, back when I was living on the East Coast and hadn't ventured beyond visiting my sister in Texas a couple of times. It appears that blogging is the only form of writing that truly resonates with me these days. I relish the opportunity to share life's highs and vent about its lows.

Tomorrow, Tammy undergoes knee surgery, followed by a lengthy journey of physical therapy and recuperation. She requested my prayers, prompting me to muster the courage to confess my agnosticism to her. I couldn't bear to deceive her by pretending to pray when I don't. My belief lies in the notion that events unfold as they are destined to, and if prayer could simply grant our wishes, we'd all lead charmed lives (or, at the very least, be spared from life's hardships). The notion that "God never gives us more than we can handle" rings hollow to me; if that were true, we'd all be immortal. Moreover, any deity capable of allowing such suffering, both for Tammy and for myself, isn't one I feel inclined to trust. For me, prayer feels like talking to a brick wall. Having "a friend in God" is akin to befriending the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, or some other mythical entity. However, this doesn't diminish my respect for others' beliefs. We each harbor our own convictions, and that's perfectly acceptable. As for me, well, perhaps there is something out there, but it's not always as benevolent as we'd like to believe. In other words, whatever force governs our existence seems to harbor a vendetta against some of us. Considering how wretched my life was for so long, I still can't fathom the streak of good fortune I've been riding lately, and I fear it's only a matter of time before the tides turn.

Nevertheless, I'll keep Tammy in my thoughts and hope for the best. I can't begin to imagine enduring such tribulations, and I certainly don't envy her. Not only will she be confined to immobility for a while, but she may also require ventilator assistance post-surgery until she can breathe independently. And, of course, she must pray to whatever higher power she believes in to steer clear of any infections that could further complicate matters.

I was disheartened to learn of Marie's impending move. I'm eagerly awaiting her response. It seems she's parted ways with her wife, a development I feared was on the horizon. She, too, will occupy my thoughts, and I sincerely hope she finds contentment, whatever form it may take. She holds a special place in my heart, and despite the moments of exasperation she's caused me in the past, she deserves happiness.

FedEx was slated to deliver the first of my birthday treats—the tigress and cub figurine, along with Tom's CoQ10 pills—but failed to do so. The tracking status claimed it was out for delivery until 8 PM, but I suspect they're running behind schedule with the holidays looming. Alternatively, perhaps we were relegated to the bottom of their delivery list, and they lacked the access code to enter our gated community once the gates were secured at 7 PM. This marks the first time I've begrudged these gates, though they do serve their purpose of deterring unauthorized vehicular traffic, particularly those with blaring car stereos.

I spent most of the day in slumber, but Tom assured me it was a tranquil day with no sign of children frolicking in the streets. I wonder if the scene would have been different had I been awake. The sight of those girls cycling alongside their grandmother would have hinted at their residency here, so I'm relieved Tom didn't spot them. After all, there's little point in residing in an age-restricted community if children are permitted to take up residence.

We did catch a brief yelp from a dog being walked by as I stirred from my slumber, but barking remains a rarity in our neighborhood. However, just beyond the park, it's an entirely different story, with plenty of boisterous canines making their presence known. I suspect this is why the house across the street fell through and is back on the market. No one wants to settle in a locale inundated with incessant barking. Late at night, if you stand by any window facing westward, you can faintly discern the distant clamor of barking. I shudder to think how cacophonous it must be for the homes lining Oak Lane. There may be other issues plaguing the property as well; I recall spotting an exterminator at the premises recently.

Aside from an open house and a delivery truck making a stop halfway down the block, Tom reported a tranquil Sunday.

Rain is forecasted for Tuesday through Thursday, though one can never be certain. It promises to be a welcome change, though it's unfortunate that I'll be slumbering during daylight hours, unable to savor the tranquility or revel in the knowledge that inclement weather will keep the landscapers at bay. Then again, precipitation in these parts often arrives in the dead of night.

Glancing at an advertisement "Christ-centered" yoga? Seriously? My goodness, soon there'll be "Christ-centered" everything. Well, to each their own, I suppose.

I broached the subject of prayer with Tom, and he offered this perspective: "I suppose so, though I believe prayer should be directed towards what you need, not necessarily what you want."

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2013 Got up in the early afternoon and am having a fun day so far. We decided to get the paint early next weekend when we actually planned to start painting the bedroom anyway, so we didn’t have to stand in line on a Saturday afternoon while they mixed the color.

Instead, we went to Walgreens and got some fun stuff. I finally decided to try a nail hardener you put under polish that’s supposed to prevent chips and cracks. I also got Sally Hansen’s new “fuzzy” polish in black and white.

Got some crappy incense and Sweet Petal body mist in the stocking stuffer section.

The nicest thing I got was a pink towel set that came with a bath puff, a hair wrap, and a towel I’ve wanted since I first saw Crazy Ellie with one at the Vista Ventana apartments in Phoenix in 1992. I just never thought to look for one till I saw this set. It’s one of those towels with Velcro that you can wrap around you. I thought it’d be great for at the pool. I’m not going to take it to Hawaii, though.

Tom and I walked down and fed the ducks when we got back, and now we’re just kicking back and doing our own thing. Gotta get on with my book soon.

But first – I still don’t get how Molly’s able to view a blog I’ve blocked her from. She’s not showing up on TIP today, but GA sees her every day. Today GA is back to showing her visit duration as being 0 seconds. I guess it knows when people at least try to access my blog? Or maybe it’s not even her. There are other people in Austin, after all, and it could be a bot, too.

TIP isn’t working right on Prosebox so I’m not coding entries there.

Later…

Why has Linda Ronstadt, a fabulous singer I once so adored and idolized, become such a delusional idiot? Ok, so being part Mexican makes you want to stick up for your own, but when it causes you to lose touch with reality and see things that aren’t there, including discrimination that doesn’t exist, then you’ve got a problem.

If Linda sees having a border between the US and Mexico as “racism,” then what about us beefing up airport security after 9/11? Is that racism, too? Really, it was such a stupid, stupid thing for her to say in the interview I read, and I’m really surprised that this person I idolized for so long can be so blind and so ignorant. Perhaps I shouldn’t be because an opinion is just an opinion, but I find her words almost offensive because in a sense she’s basically labeling whites racists who pick on people simply for their color and not their behavior. How is it “racist” to deport illegals and to want to protect ourselves from harm like drug cartels? Our old rural town of Maricopa became an extremely dangerous place to live, and yes, it’s all the Mexicans’ fault. I make no apologies for stating this fact either. They turned the place into a virtual killing ground. Yanking a passing cop out of its cruiser and killing it is a regular occurrence there, not that most of them aren’t just as corrupt. They’re brazen, deadly, and totally out of control. Yet we’re “racist” by trying to clean up their act for them and send them home?

She bitches that we have fences and walls set up at our southern border but not our northern border. First of all, there are some fences and walls up north, and secondly, if the Canadians were known to smuggle in the kind of trouble that the Mexicans are known to bring in, then security would be beefed up there, too. I’m sorry, but people often get treated based on the way they behave. How many Canadians are as quick to smuggle in guns and drugs and to jump on welfare as opposed to Mexicans? Sure, there are some legal, hard-working Mexicans out there, but like it or not there’s no ignoring the statistics.

Tom says more Mexicans come here than Canadians, and that’s why they get more attention. He argues that if just as many Canadians came in, there’d be just as much crime, but I disagree. Some breeds of dogs are more prone to trouble, and so are some groups of people. We may wish it wasn’t so, but it is, and ignorance and denial won’t change the facts. That’s just the difference between the two cultures. How come the Mexicans build tunnels while the Canadians don’t? Well, it’s not because they want to enjoy the scenery here!

I do agree it was wrong for Seattle to jail an illegal for a few months before deporting the woman and forcing her to lose her kids. The whole family should’ve been deported right away. But it’s hard to feel sorry for those who know damn well that these things can happen to you if you cross the border illegally. Just like it’s hard to feel sorry for those who choose to live where they know typhoons are an issue. I’m sorry that some people lost their homes, but when you live in the path of destruction, what do you expect?

Despite how obvious the problem is with reverse discrimination, it’s like people are literally terrified to address the issue, and I don’t understand why. When people have negative things to say against non-whites, both whites and non-whites are quick to attack the person. But whenever someone dares try to point out that most of the “racism” out there today just isn’t real unless you’re gay, no one wants to hear it. Not saying that there’s no discrimination at all against blacks and Mexicans. Sure there is. But the vast majority is often completely made up, exaggerated, or seriously misconstrued. People are so quick to read things in that aren’t there and mistake the most innocent of statements as hate for non-whites. Not liking a black person’s shirt doesn’t mean we don’t like them. Yet people continue to make these false connections and assumptions. I can’t help but wonder how much longer we’re going to ignore the problem. How many more whites have to suffer unjustly? Until the non-whites feel they are finally “even” with us for what those of 50-100 years ago did?

On Facebook and other sites, I often see tales of hardships pertaining to blacks and other non-whites. All kinds of people of all colors are quick to respond with sympathy. But when the tables are turned, their posts are usually met with silence. Just utter silence. Yes, I truly believe America has been scared silent. Its whites are too afraid to fight for the equality they deserve just as any other group does, and I have to ask myself… why? Blacks weren’t afraid to fight for their rights, and in the end, they got more than everybody else. They’re exempt from being charged with hate crimes, and they can have all the Black History Months they want without being called racist. Well, go out there and try to have a White History Month and see how far you get.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 2013 Not gonna have much of a blog entry this time around because there really isn’t much to update on. I got the makeup kit I won and read its instructions to Tom in Spanish, Italian, and German. I don’t yet feel comfortable reading French aloud.

Tom is continuing to have the weekends off, and I polished my nails lime green with a glitter topcoat. I really wish I wasn’t so damn blind so that applying makeup would be as easy as applying nail polish. I can’t wear glasses while doing my eyes, unlike my nails. I have a magnifier, but it’s still blurry. I never expected to have vision this bad this young. I thought I was another 10-15 years away from vision this poor.

Things are otherwise going well. We’ll be picking up the paint for the second bedroom at some point this weekend.

Well, there is one mystery to my day, actually, and that’s how the hell Molly managed to view my blog for nearly a minute and a half. The first attempt she made, she was bounced back out in seconds, as it should be. But how was she in for over a minute the second time around? I contacted the IP-blocking people. Maybe they can tell me. Harmless or not, there’s still something that makes me very uncomfortable about this cyber peeping Tom and her prying eyes always following what I’m up to.

She’s been online more and more and is checking all my blogs, including the ones I’m not using, religiously. It’s only a matter of time before the unwanted contact starts back up again. They just don’t get that no amount of time being restricted from the Internet is going to change her. As soon as she can get back online, be it after 10 minutes or 10 years, she’s back to stalking those of the past. She really, truly never will change. I always knew this. Anyone who’s gotta keep tabs on someone who dumped them years ago and who made it clear they want nothing to do with them can’t possibly be right in the head now or ever.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2013 Added some incense and a cute little figure of a tiger carrying its cub to my farm animal collection, even though tigers aren’t exactly “farm” animals. But it can still live with my cow, horse, dog, and cat.

In last night’s dream, Andy created a site dedicated to Fleetwood Mac fans. He asked me to go check it out and make sure there were no spelling errors and that all the buttons functioned properly, so I did. Upon entering the site, random Fleetwood Mac music began playing. First was a song by one of the guys, though I’m not sure what it was. Then Christine McVie comes on singing a song I’d never heard of. The only words I remember were, “Lord, give me success.”

This afternoon’s walk was beautiful. It wasn’t too cold or too hot and was partly cloudy, so I didn’t have the sun glaring in my eyes. I passed Bob on his bike along the way.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2013 Yesterday, I ended up with two surprise wins: the makeup kit and a dual Glade fragrance warmer that came with two different scented oils.

Today, I couldn’t get online as soon as I got up and went to check for messages. Then it ran snail-slow, and I wondered, until Tom got home and reset the router, why the past always returns to haunt us. I guess, however, this has to be done with everyone’s router every few months or so.

I know I’ve said this before, but I really wish people would stop “liking” and commenting on my Facebook cover photos because they’re not private. I choose to keep my friend list private, but when people “like” or leave comments on them, that exposes them to the public. If they want to have their own accounts public, that’s fine. But I’ve chosen to keep Facebook the one place where I’m much more private as opposed to other sites, and that includes keeping my friends a mystery to outsiders.

It turns out that Bob wasn’t sawing in his garage for the fun of it, but someone else was because something was wrong. At least that was the impression I got when I saw a guy dressed in white like a technician step out of the garage, pull a mask off his face, then leave in a pickup. So whatever was going on wasn’t some project or hobby, but probably termites or something like that.

Tom told me to be thinking of what I want for my birthday, even though it’s not till the 4th. I thought of various things – a new dresser, a new palm tree for the living room that’s between 6-8 feet tall, and things like that. Then I decided I’d rather not get anything that’d be just one more thing to have to move once we recarpet in the spring. So I browsed through Amazon for unique things that are fun and decided on this rat sticker for the bedroom door. Then I decided on a sexy lady silhouette in white for the front door. And lastly, some sexy anime miniature figurines with a bondage theme, something new that would definitely – uhem – add major variety to what’s left of my doll collection. Gotta laugh trying to picture my mom’s reaction if I was still a kid and someone got them for me for my birthday or Chanukah, LOL.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2013 I must say I admire this woman on Prosebox who admitted that she not only doesn’t work due to a husband who makes a lot of money but isn’t going to apologize for it either.

Neither am I. I’m not rich by any means, but my husband makes a lot of money and I too wouldn’t need to work if I were able to. Not outside of the house, I mean. Here I work taking care of a large house and two spunky pet rats. Then there’s the laundry, and well, sometimes I even cook. :)

But the point is that just like she was making in her own post, I’m not going to feel sorry or guilty for it any more than I will for any people/subjects that I may bash in my entries. My civil rights were violated once, and believe me when I say it will only be once. My naïveté was taken advantage of back then, but that was then and this is now. I not only have just as much right to hate as I do to love, and to express myself just like any other person out there, but to live the life I see fit to live for me and not what society thinks is best suitable or in the “norm.”

I realize attitudes depend on what’s trending at the time. If it were the 50s I’d be criticized for not having kids instead of being a housewife. These days, though, society has decided I’ve done right by passing up kids, but guess what? I don’t care what society thinks. I do what I think is best for my husband and me, and like anyone else, I try to avoid what I don’t want or like in life. Now I’m not without empathy for the poor. I lived in poverty myself in the past and I’m not about to assume I never will again. If anyone’s learned that the past sometimes creeps up on us and returns to haunt us when we least expect it, it’s me. So I’ll never say never; just that I hope we’re never poor again. We’re doing all we can on our part to help see to it that we won’t be.

I can’t help what people are going to think or how they’re going to react when they read my journal, nor am I going to be responsible for their feelings. If you feel the need to flip out or take offense over what someone else wrote in their journal, then why did you bother to read it???

I also don’t get the automatic assumptions some people make when reading some comments on some Prosebox entries that I’ve read. I don’t know where some people get certain things from this, this, and that, and draw the conclusions that they sometimes draw, yet it seems many people read things into what a person is saying and see things that aren’t even there. Like assuming a woman who’s pissed off is PMSing. Well, admitting we’re depressed doesn’t automatically mean we crave attention. Being angry doesn’t mean we’re losing control. Complaining about one who’s done well doesn’t mean we’re jealous. Admitting we have regrets doesn’t mean we feel guilt. Saying we’re lonely doesn’t make us losers. Pointing out something negative can merely be an observation and doesn’t mean we’re “complainers.” Hating someone doesn’t mean we hate ourselves. Wanting something doesn’t mean we have nothing. Bashing something doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate the good. Praising something doesn’t mean we’re showing off. Admitting we don’t have as much as someone else may doesn’t mean we’re trying to make them feel guilty for what they’ve got.

Yet people seem to think some things go hand in hand together - and sure, sometimes they might - but I don’t think there are any set rules.

Later…

Time for a family and neighborhood report. Tammy's artery isn’t clogged, but they did remove some polyps from Mark and are hoping they’re not cancerous. Tammy will be in the hospital undergoing knee surgery from Monday to Thursday of next week. She will then have therapists at the house for 5 weeks following the surgery to help rehabilitate her.

I woke up to landscaping and sawing sounds. Yeah, old Bob next door was running a circular saw, from the sound of it in his garage. The SUV was parked on the street, and I could see some things he pulled out of the garage and set in the driveway. So much for the bike pump being “all” I’ll hear. I just hope to hell this isn’t a regular occurrence now that we’ve been here for 4 months, as it seems to be the time when good neighbors either move or go bad on us, whether they’ve moved in next to us or we’ve moved in next to them. Once in a while is fine, but more than once in a while would get old. Remember, their garage is just a few feet from the wall of our house. Technically, though, he has the right to do this during normal daytime hours whether I like it or not, just like I have the right to express how much reverse discrimination pisses me off even though no one wants to hear it.

Anyway, I expected it to be noisier at this time of year. Most warm climates are livelier once the winter approaches and it stays that way until the spring.

Even though they’ve been a problem too, since we’re just cursed with neighbors no matter what, I really miss having only female neighbors. They just don’t have the annoying toys males have, you know? Still, to date, they’re our quietest neighbors yet and I hope that doesn’t change.

Although I still prefer houses to condos or apartments any day, I realize that there really isn’t that much of a difference in general. What interior sounds you don’t hear are made up for in exterior sounds. Car doors make up for apartment doors, saws make up for TVs, people chatting outside make up for cabinets closing, and yard work makes up for footsteps. So unless one is out by themselves in the middle of nowhere, one always hears something no matter what they live in.

I won a $79 makeup kit, but it’s not enough to entice me back to sweeping full-time. Not without a win worth $500 or more. The timing was nice, though, as my mascara has dried up. Putting on makeup has become extremely hard for me because I’m so damn blind, so I don’t wear it much anymore anyway. Besides, I’m so damn ugly these days that not even makeup can make much of a difference.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2013 No one on Facebook had anything to say about the article that was shared with me on 10 black youths in Brooklyn, NY who beat an innocent white couple at an intersection, calling them every white racial slur in the book in front of witnesses and the cops, yet will NOT be charged with a hate crime. Why is it that I have a feeling that if it were the other way around, people would be quick to leave sympathetic comments for the blacks and ones of condemnation for the whites? Do blacks not deserve to be held accountable for their crimes, too? I don’t understand why so many people favor, defend, and protect blacks any more than I get why they’d choose Windows computers over Macs, thus putting themselves at greater risk of trouble. We’re quick to hate the monsters that reside on the other side of the planet, but not our own homegrown enemies. WTF?

We didn’t do much yesterday other than change the rats’ cage and take a walk down to feed the ducks. Tom did a little leaf-blowing/vacuuming, too.

I have the soothing sound of a waterfall playing on the sound machine that sits on this desk because the daily buzz, buzz, buzz of the landscapers will be on any second. I’m surprised they haven’t started yet. As I’m learning, it’s an everyday thing around here at this time of year that you hear on and off all day. The waterfalls, oceans, brooks, and other forms of white noise don’t always drown it all out, but it does most of it.

What I didn’t expect to hear yesterday was the screaming of a kid here in a retirement community of all places. When I looked out the window, I saw a little girl on a bike with training wheels riding and screaming up and down the street with granny. This is the kind of shit we came here to escape. Tom doesn’t mind screaming kids, but to me, they’re so damn annoying and distracting. If they could play like civilized humans and not scream like animals, I wouldn’t give a damn, but hey, it’s better than bouncing basketballs just a few feet from our window that would go on for hours in Phoenix, so close and so loud they might as well have bounced the fucking thing off the walls of our place. Really hope, though, that kids screaming in the streets here don’t become a regular thing. Even more so I hope none move in here. This isn’t jail. They don’t come and inspect the people’s homes. So what’s to keep people from breaking the rules if they want to?

Anyway, I have a busy day ahead of me, buzzing landscapers or not, writing my book, cleaning, working out, studying languages, and more. Maybe when I get a chance to check in on social sites I won’t have to hear all about blacks, God, and Christianity. Guess ignorance really is bliss at times.

Molly started a new blog on MO, and it’s full of the same old shit – how can she live without a boyfriend, her mother controls her spending, she hates Marbridge, she’s lost weight, she’s going to the movies, walking, having her nails and toes pampered, and pissed that Alan dumped her for calling and texting him so damn much.

Thirty years old and she still doesn’t realize she doesn’t love, she SUFFOCATES. She obsesses, devours, and chokes! It’s a sad and scary indicator that nothing’s changed with her but her lack of free time, though she does seem to have more time to play online lately. She’s not peeking in on me as much, but she still does here and there.

Found Kathy on Twitter, and it was all I could do to keep from flinging one insult after another at her, but I didn’t want Alison to see it, so I didn’t. “I hope I can stay troll-free here,” she said. And why should she be so privileged? She doesn’t let others remain troll-free when she can come at them anonymously like the coward that she is.

Still a spoiled little princess, too. Getting baby showers and all kinds of things given to her and done for her that Tom and I would never have gotten had God answered my baby prayers like He did hers. Oh well. No use sweating human crap like her and Molly. At least Kim isn’t stalking me as closely as I thought she was. Still, even though I’m glad as hell we never had kids in the end, it bothers me to not only have the choice made for me but that God can favor some people over others just like it bothers me when some parents favor one kid over another or the law favors one color over another.

Later…

Got my first negative comment on my new MD account and wonder if it’s someone either connected to the trolls or maybe someone like Noone. Although the email address looked legit, I couldn’t verify it or trace it to any other account.

Molly’s still whining in her blog and starting to get comments that I’m suspecting could be from herself if they’re not from Kim. I don’t think they’re from Kim, though, because nothing came in on Ask for over a day when I last allowed for anonymous questions, and because nothing’s been left on my MO blog, although she won’t contact me on trackable sites. Whoever it was asked why I still stalk her and Molly’s supposed answer was “I don’t know.” Why would anyone think I stalk her? That question made me think Kim might’ve asked, trying to throw suspicion off her own self. If I had to guess, though, I’d say it’s just Molly asking her own crazy self these questions. But if that’s so, why does she think I’m stalking her and not Kim, Kathy, or someone else?

Finally got a doctor’s appointment made, but it’s not until January.

I feel very sorry for those affected by the typhoon in the Philippines as well as others who are less fortunate than I am. However, I don’t think it should be up to those who are doing well, especially us Americans, to help pick up the pieces for them. Enough of our money has been carted off to other countries as it is. We need our own money. There are enough people right here in the US that are in need. As a country, we should be taking care of our own first and foremost. I know that’s not how it always works since the government left us for dead a couple of years ago while sending millions overseas in an attempt to kiss ass for whatever, but that’s the way it should be nonetheless.

Broke up my walk today and in two different directions. I headed right when I went around the block the first time, then left the second time around. A pickup came and parked on the street in front of one of the houses Tom looked at when we were house hunting, and a young woman with two little girls hopped out. One was yesterday’s bike screamer and I saw the little pink bike in the carport. In fact, I’ve actually seen it before yesterday.

They had in-state plates, so I’d say that given the presence of the bike and how often I’ve been seeing them, they do live here. I could’ve sworn I heard screaming last weekend or the weekend before but wrote it off to the kids in the mainstream being unusually loud. Mom probably can’t afford to fend for all 3 of them as seems to be the case for most moms today. The fathers give a damn about as much as a cockroach does. But… they’re not next to us, so I don’t care so long as they don’t make a regular habit of hitting the streets. I don’t think they will. At least not unsupervised and for long periods of time. They had to be only about 2 and 4 years old. I just hope their stay is only temporary and that more people don’t go breaking rules like this if it’s not.

I’m just so glad we don’t live across the street! When I was by the houses that border the outskirts, I heard a couple of big loud dogs. How terrible it must be at night when sounds carry easier, cuz you know how the people are here – if they don’t have to have indoor pets, they won’t.

Anyway, as I was coming up the street I saw next door pull in and thought to myself, let me guess. You’re going to park in the carport instead of the garage like you usually did in the past, and you're going to slam doors, right? Well, they did park in the carport, but they didn’t give me the 4-5 slams at a time I’ve been getting till about 4 hours later. Also, they went somewhere after slamming doors. When they return they’ll probably hit the garage for the night.

They’re still the quietest neighbors we’ve ever had. Even so, Andy says his ATTACHED neighbors are not only very quiet still but often take off for days at a time. Now why can’t ours do that? They went on vacation but they had someone living there while they were gone. They were quiet too, but still, it’d be nice if they took off for a few days here and a few days there. Or at least were still working. However, if I could rarely have working neighbors in the mainstream, why would I have them in a retirement community?

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2013 Got my hair cut yesterday, and I absolutely love it! The girl did a great job, though it wasn’t Diana. It was a girl named Theresa instead. She got it amazingly straight too, with just a slight flip on the ends. Today it’s curly, but still looks good. I was going to just go for a wash and cut, but she recommended a blow dry too, since this kind of cut needs to be dry to see exactly what it’s going to look like and if it needs any fine-tuning. It’s called triangular layers. She left the sides as they were but layered the back. It’s just brushing my shoulders now. The layering of the back is to keep it from poofing out in a funny way on the bottom like it did the last time Tom and I cut it to the shoulders and had it all one length.

She recommended I have the relaxer done sometime and insists it really does work. Even on hair that’s coarser and curlier than mine. For about $80, I could have a wash, cut, and relaxer. Maybe this summer I’ll consider it. Sarah says it’s a good deal.

For now, I love having short hair, as it is so much easier to live with. It’s easier to wash and quicker to dry. It doesn’t clog drains or vacuum brushes as much, nor does it get in the way when I’m working out.

I even dared to post a few pics of my fabulous hair on Facebook despite how horrible the rest of me looks. I realize, though, like never before that nothing – nothing – will ever get the weight off. Diets work, but simply aren’t sustainable. The 1000-calorie thing day after day, week after week, month after month, just isn’t doable. And so now I am ready to let the world see how fat I’ve become. Should I really give a shit anyway? I’m nothing new or unique. Most people my age are heavy, and I personally find it has its advantages that being petite and “hot” didn’t have.

I’m glad the girl talked me out of cutting my bangs. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with that and asked her for her opinion. She said that since I feel I have wide jaws, covering my forehead would only accentuate the largest, roundest part of my face. Keeping them long gives off the illusion that my face is more oval-shaped. It’s also good that I kept them because those would have to be trimmed more often than the rest of it. We only get half an inch of hair growth per month, so I can go 3-4 months between salon visits. Bangs need trimming every 6 weeks or so, and I’d be tempted to do them myself, and I wouldn’t always do a great job.

We popped some strips off the wallboards in the second bedroom and spackled the grooves. It shrunk a bit overnight, but because we plan to add texture to the paint, it shouldn’t be noticeable once the walls are done.

Tom has 4 days off during the Thanksgiving holiday, during which we’ll finish the spackling and then do the painting. After that room’s done, we’ll know if it’s worth popping the strips and all that.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2013 Got a busy day ahead of me with a haircut scheduled for 11:00, walls to start prepping for painting, a book to write, and more.

Tom used the treadmill, which is in the living room, as I was going to bed a couple of nights ago, and I never felt or heard a thing in there with the sound machine running. In the trailer, I’d have felt every step he took vibrating throughout the place no matter what I had going for sound machines.

Where Tuesday was insanely noisy for a retirement community, Wednesday and Thursday were okay, and yesterday got a little annoying with landscaping and vehicles. Next door’s getting more door-slammy with their SUV. Gee, we must be coming up on that fourth month. Still, they never could or would get as noisy as other neighbors we’ve had, and if they did, they would be tossed out of here in time. They’ve been parking in the carport more lately as opposed to the garage. Then I hear a few scattered door slams but never see them go anywhere.

I ran into Bob on my walk yesterday. He’s gotta be closer to 70. He said the trip was good, and I told him we’re going to Hawaii in January. He said that’s a good time to go. By the next time I circled the block, he was running what I’m guessing is the pump to blow up his bike tires. He ran this for about 15 minutes. Although I still worry he’s going to start using the garage more often for loud projects, a saw or a drill wouldn’t have been as steady of a sound as I heard, and they did say that’d be all I’d hear. So no real worries there. Hey, I knew the bastard above was going to make sure I didn’t get working neighbors, not that there are many still working here anyway.

It takes me 5 minutes to briskly walk around the circle. I only did 4 rounds yesterday, but at least it wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be going around the same block over and over again. It’s a good way to get exercise in the fresh air yet still remain close to home.

Just when I was wondering if Molly would ever check my MO blog, she not only did that, but she created another account there as well. She’s only made one entry about how well she did at bowling. Next comes the weight, and then the people she hates at Marbridge, I suppose. Her spending 20 minutes in my LJ blog, which hasn’t been public in a while, then seeking me out on MO tells me nothing’s changed with her just like I always suspected. As soon as she’s back home where she doesn’t have as much structure, rules, routine, and supervision, she’ll be back to haunt me regularly. This is part of why I keep private any blogs she does know about and block her from those she does know about. I’m back to being unable to log into MO, so I’m done there since they’re just shutting down in a few months anyway.

Some people think it’s uncool to say negative things about a person in their journal/diary, but that’s what they’re for. A journal is a place to write about our experiences and the people involved in them, and I see no need to hold back where Molly’s concerned. I’m not doing anything wrong, providing sensitive info, or making any threats. She supposedly tries to read my blogs to “make sure I’m not talking about her.” Oh, I’m talking, alright, when she gives me a reason to, but she won’t be reading. Not unless she finds my second MD blog, and if she did I wouldn’t know about it because that block is untrackable. I’ve kept my Prosebox account mostly secret because that’s my place to write more freely about those I actually do care about but whose feelings I wouldn’t want to hurt, say if I said their hair looked funny or their spelling was atrocious or something.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2013 It took me about 17 minutes to make it down to the front entrance on yesterday’s walk, and about 20 to make it back home at a very brisk pace. Having used a treadmill in the past, I can say I was probably walking a little over 3 MPH. I wasn’t out of breath when I returned, but I was tired. Is that normal for someone my age? My hips and legs were also stiff, but I feel fine today. What I like about walking outdoors vs. indoors is that I can’t just give up any time. Down at the entrance, I can’t say, “Ok, I’m done. I’ve had enough,” because I gotta get back home. I like walking out there even though it’s not doing me any good. Meaning that it’s not helping my weight at all. It helps with other things, though, so it’s not a completely wasted effort. I’d go to a doctor and hopefully find out what’s keeping the weight on, only it seems that all the doctors in NorCal either aren’t seeing new patients or they’ve got bad reviews. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. After all, it’s been since the 90s since I’ve had a regular check-up and I’ve survived this long. Other than dentists, ears, and sleep docs, I haven’t been to anyone for anything.

Anyway, I’m not sure if I’ll go out today or wait and go out tomorrow with Tom. I’ll probably take a different route either way.

Norma asked if they get to see a pic of my haircut when it’s done, but IDK. Do I really want to shock and disgust people with how huge I’ve become? I know I shouldn’t care. After all, getting this big wasn’t part of the plan and there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s why it REALLY bothers me when heavy people are portrayed as pigs in books and movies. Yes, some people eat themselves heavily, but not all of us sit on our asses lazy as hell and stuffing ourselves every chance we get.

There’s one thing I can say for sure, though. Praying, dieting, and exercising may not get the weight off, but having a high-protein diet definitely helps curb hunger more than when I have starchy foods that are low in protein like bread, potatoes, pasta, and rice. I just wish there were more low-carb foods than meat and eggs!

Last night I had a dream I was back at the dentist I had in Glendale, AZ before we left Phoenix. I was very attracted to the assistant that worked there named Melanie. She was a tall, dark-eyed brunette. Today she would be in her early 40s and if she’s like most people over 40, she’s no longer skinny. In the dream, she was still young and hot, only she was blond.

What I’m almost positive about was Molly asking me the same old shit she usually asks me – how’s my husband, am I happy, do I worry about the future – all classic Molly questions. If it was her, though, then why didn’t she visit any of my blogs or at least try to, and why has she stopped tweeting?

I asked her to stop so I could flush out Kim (who might not be stalking me as much as I once thought), but she’ll probably deny it’s her even if it is.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 2013 LOL, talk about a dream turning into a nightmare. Nane came over to "watch" me while Tom was on a business trip. She said my hair looked sexy (in real life it's getting cut off this weekend). She handed me pink daisies and said I lost a lot of weight (in real life I still have enough rolls to build a mini roller-coaster for miniature people). So I throw my arms around her neck and say, "It's so nice to finally meet you!" We begin to kiss and who should ruin it all but my dead mother, who then storms into the room to say we "gotta hit the road" and to hurry up and get ready and that she doesn't want to have to tell me again. :(

Definitely gotta step up to a stronger prescription for my glasses over the next few months. When I first got my bifocals, things were crystal clear off in the distance. Not anymore. They seem to be noticeably worse every 6 months or so. How am I going to see even with glasses in another 20 years???

The older I get, the less sure I become about certain things. I was so sure there was a God, then I was sure there wasn’t, then I felt certain that while a God probably created the universe and the people in it since many things of such intricate design hardly seem happenstance, and then He abandoned us, which would explain why so much shit goes on in the world. Now I don’t know what to think.

Same with the afterlife. I was sure it existed and what it was all about. Now I’m not sure about anything.

There is an endless supply of possibilities and without actually meeting any God face to face or dying and then discovering an afterlife, if there is one, I can’t say for sure what’s what. I don’t think any of us can. Seeing definitely helps us to believe. If I weren’t psychic, then I would probably have a hard time believing in such a thing. Perhaps my lack of ghostly experiences is why I’m unsure as to whether or not I believe in ghosts, though I guess that if psychics can exist, so can they.

Gotta get on with today’s chapter and then the cleaning and all that. Want to wait till the sun’s up before I go out for my walk. I’d like an extra 10° too.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2013 It’s oddly quiet out there today. Where I expected the usual slew of blowers, mowers, traffic, and car door slams, it’s been a fairly quiet day so far. It’s not even noon yet, though, so things are subject to change.

I didn’t wake up as sore as I thought I would from yesterday’s workout, but I skipped today and just did my housecleaning and my usual online activities. Tomorrow I’ll get back out there. I just have to remember to head back before I start getting too tired. I thought of circling the block so that if anything goes wrong, I’m always close to home, but that’d be boring going round and round the same block. Most of the other streets are straight lines with dead-ends branching off of them.

A day off here and there won’t kill me anyway, since more isn’t better and the scale is going to eventually climb because I’m no longer severely restricting calories. I’d like to have one of those bodies that is made thinner by exercise, but that’s just not me. Not at this age. I still love how working out makes me fit and gives me energy, so just because I stopped dieting doesn’t mean I’m going to quit working out any more than it means that I’m going to start stuffing myself either. I eat when I’m hungry and that’s that.

I’m now up to 10,053 words with my book. Thinking about how I have nearly 40,000 to go makes me want to beat my head against the wall, so I try not to.

I appreciate Aly’s wonderful editing job on my book. She’s been providing feedback and catching those little mistakes we tend to make when we crank out so much so fast.

I’m so glad that I no longer share any mutual friends with those I am no longer friends with. It’s nice not “accidentally” having to hear what past friends, that I’d like to remain in the past, are up to. I simply don’t care what’s going on in their lives. I want them to remain forever a mystery to me. I’m sure there are others out there who can relate to the appreciation of these severed ties.

Gonna make an appointment to get my hair cut this weekend as long as nothing else comes up. I don’t mind going to that same girl in Walmart. She did what I told her to do, after all. It’s just that I’m sick of long hair. It’s a pain maintaining it when it’s so thick and curly. Even if it wasn’t, I’m just sick of it. It’s always in the way. I want it to my shoulders and I’ll probably cut my bangs back, too. I’m sick of it being in my face unless I secure it back, and all I want is just enough to gather into a little stub of a ponytail for when I’m working out.

I called Tammy, and we talked before the cell quit on me. She’s not doing well at all. She wanted to discuss her usual subjects - her health and how much she hates Lisa. They’re holding off the lung transplant for now, but her knee surgery will be called off if her newest medical curse pans out to anything serious. The doctor said there was blood in her carotid artery. I was confused at first, and well, apparently you’re not supposed to hear it. So now she has to deal with that and see how serious the blockage is. She’s also at risk of incurable infections since her immune system is shot and she’s become immune to antibiotics. There’s also the stress of Mark’s heart over their heads too, never knowing if today might be his last day.

After a year of silence, Lisa called her, and they got into a screaming match and hung up on each other. She said she told Lisa she “never did anything wrong to her and how could she turn on her while she now sees Bill as the best damn thing after what he did to her?”

That’s EXACTLY what I could’ve asked her 14 years ago. How could she defend Bill while turning on me???

She still blames it on no self-esteem, of course, and not being able to just up and leave so easily with 3 kids. I understand her, but I don’t. Sure it would be tough to leave with kids. Sometimes it can be tough even without them. I don’t have any kids, but where could I go if I suddenly had to leave Tom or he died? They’ll never reinstate my disability no matter how disabled any number of doctors say I am cuz the screwy system says I didn’t work enough years to qualify. Fucked up or not, that’s how it is. So I can sort of understand that part.

But she has done things wrong, and low self-esteem is no reason to shit on others any more than what happened a century ago gives blacks the right to shit on whites like so many of them are doing these days. Many Jews’ ancestors had it rough too, but they’re not running around playing the “Jew card” when they can’t get their way. I don’t understand why so many blacks and whites alike are so quick to come to blacks’ defense any more than I get why Tammy would defend Bill’s ass no matter how beaten and brainwashed she might’ve been. I know it’s not always cool to bash what I don’t understand. Many don’t get how/why I can’t simply set my alarm and get up at the same time every day, but that doesn’t make it any less true. So maybe abuse really can fuck with your mind in a way that can make you do the craziest of things. I wouldn’t know cuz I would’ve fought back and left the instant I smelled this kind of trouble in anyone I was with prior to meeting Tom.

Tammy's not kidding about Lisa’s perception of Bill, though. When I went to block her on Facebook so she couldn’t include me in any family drama like she did a few years ago with my parents, I pushed back, stunned, just staring at her page and said, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Just fucking kidding me.” But sure enough, sprawled across her cover photo was a picture of her and Bill smiling happily at each other – Bill, as in the guy who abused her and her mother – that appeared to have been taken at some kind of event (bastard’s second wedding?).

Anyway, Sarah wants nothing to do with Lisa, Tammy says, but Becky’s chosen to attend Lisa’s wedding cuz she’s “family.” Well, I didn’t tell Becky this, as I don’t want to get involved other than what Tammy tells me and because Becky has a right to make her own decisions, but there’s more to relationships than just blood. Just because one may be related to us doesn’t mean they’re good for us to have in our lives. Lisa truly is disturbed. She made this very obvious to me with the way she lashed out at me. Not Molly/Kim kind of disturbed, where she’s on disability and can’t distinguish fact from fiction, but she’s dishonest, accusatory, emotional, and bipolar. I’ll definitely be sure to post this in my semi-secret blog only!

Regardless of anything Bill’s done, for Tammy to say she’s never done anything wrong to Lisa is pure bullshit. Even she’s admitted she’s made mistakes where she was concerned. All parents fuck up at times. I don’t have to be one myself to know that, and if anyone wasn’t ready to have kids or in the right frame of mind for them 30 and even 20 years ago, it was Tammy. I didn’t know this, but Mom once told her to let Larry raise Lisa. That’s something she would say. Bad mother or not, for a parent to pit one kid against the other like she did with Larry against her and her against me, is utterly appalling.

I feel bad for her while I don’t. I’m sorry she’s suffering, but remember how bad I suffered on account of her supporting her abuser once upon a time, even if it was in a different and indirect way. I also get sick of hearing the same damn things, sort of like I do when I’m on various sites and have to hear all about God and the Black Love trip we’ve been on since the L.A. Riots. Well, God and blacks may be loved, but I still have mixed emotions about her. I’m just glad our parents and Larry are gone. Three fewer people to make trouble for the others, though Dad didn’t usually make trouble. Instead, he allowed trouble to happen.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 2013 Dover Gray, Mark Twain Gray Brick, and Cathedral Stone. Those are the three hideous shades of gray my dear pal Andy has painted his living room and door in. We’re close enough friends, having known each other all our lives, that we can rag on each other in a fun way when one does something the other finds laughable or gross. To me, gray paint is as bad as pink carpet is to him. Gray has always been my least favorite color.

I just hope this is the last of the string of curses his washer has brought him. The last one was the painter dripping paint on his printer or something like that.

As for our own walls, Tom already picked up some wallboard joint compound for the second bedroom, which is where we’re going to start this weekend. That room’s still going in lavender, but I decided against a patterned paintbrush overlaying it with pink roses. I’d be too afraid I’d hit the ceiling or not make straight enough strokes with the thing. Gonna do the laundry room in pale pink, instead, and the master bedroom will still be mint green while the kitchen is done in deep turquoise and off-white throughout the rest of the place. It’s going to be done a little at a time. We’re going to add a fine texture to the paint so we won’t have to sand. It’ll add about $4 to each gallon of paint, but will be worth it. We’re going to leave the smooth wood at the peak of the cathedral ceilings in the living room as is. It contrasts nicely with the lighter colors and I don’t want either of us climbing up that high anyway. That’s gotta be about 12’.

Over the last weekend, we washed the bedroom and bathroom drapes. Not the raspberry drapes I just bought, but the sheer inner ones that have been here and that provide privacy when the outer drapes are pulled back.

We also rearranged the living room a bit. The couch is now facing the TV, which means it’s now in the middle of the room. We pulled the treadmill out of the corner and by the front windows where the couch used to be. It looks much better this way, but now the empty corner where the treadmill used to be is calling for a tall fake palm, banana, yucca, or cherry tree of some kind. That and a new couch/recliner are still down the road as we have other things to focus on now that are more important.

I love this house’s heater too, and the way it blows hot air for shorter amounts of time than warm air for longer periods of time. Just wish they’d stop with the damn landscaping! That really, really spoils the daytime peace around here, though I’d still rather that crap in our own spacious home than Jesse’s crap in a tiny rental.

Next door’s got me a little nervous parking in the carport now instead of the garage. I hope it’s because they’re going back out and not because they’re going to make some racket in the garage. I still worry about him becoming a bit of a workshop junkie. It usually seems to be within 4-6 months of moving in next to quiet people or them moving in next to us that they go to hell. Then again, we were always next to renters and that right there usually makes a big difference.

No workshopping for old Bob after all. He just pulled out.

So back to those darn annoying landscapers. I asked one of the guys when I went out walking if they made him do that every day and he said pretty much. They have 160 acres to tend to and it’s pretty much an all-day thing every day for a few months during the fall. Really makes me think harder about soundproofing some of these windows (you can supposedly do this by adding a second set of windows and there’s a company that does this for this reason). This has been going on since 7:50 and it’s not even noon yet. But would it block the sound or just soften it? If you can still hear it anyway, so what? Still, while it’s dead quiet at night, I had no idea it’d be this noisy in the daytime. In some ways, the Jes pest’s place was quieter.

I enjoyed my walk, though due to my hips not being used to the continual and brisk motion these days, they’re a bit sore. But that’s why I added variety to my routine besides strength training vids. I jogged some of the ways too, as usual. I went further than I did yesterday and was out there for almost 40 minutes. I really got to admire all the different houses and the way they have their yards and patios decorated with an assortment of trees, flowers, wind chimes, and mini statues. You can definitely tell old people live here. Younger people wouldn’t appreciate their property as much or how it looked.

During my walk, I saw two cats and some playful squirrels. The only real annoyance was the landscapers, of course, working all along the road that runs along the back. Maybe I’ll take the iPod next time. It’s amazing how many people are up and about that early.

I took a walk down a dead-end to one of the houses we considered that was going for just 10K at the time we only had 3K saved up. This was when the market was really down and things were way cheap. The house is only a couple of years older than this, but is bigger and has 3 bedrooms. Had we gotten that place, it would’ve been quieter for traffic and landscaping, but who knows about the individual people as it has houses all around it, unlike this place.

Sugar was so cute earlier. I forgot to latch the door, so as usual, the little devil busted loose, but Romeo stayed home. I was sitting on the stool eating a bowl of cereal at the counter when I heard the packing paper rustling that he loves to play in (and sleep in). Then he came over and ate some of my cereal with me. He had 4 pieces of Captain Crunch while I ate my share, haha.

Molly hit my LJ blog last night. I asked Aly if she went there in hopes of my making it public, or if she just likes to appear on my tracker. Aly said she supposedly does it to make sure I’m not talking about her. rolls eyes Gee, that’ll stop me.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 2013 It’s still too cold and dark to go out walking, but in about an hour, the sun will be up and warming things up nicely. I wouldn’t mind walking in the dark, as I wouldn’t feel the least bit threatened by anything or anyone, but not when it’s down in the 40s. I want it to be at least 55°F when I go out there.

If there’s anything good about being on a rotating schedule, it’s the variety of workouts I can do. If I were always on days, I’d be tempted to just go out and walk except for when it was really hot, because that’d be the easiest thing to do. Walking neglects my arms and abs, though. Being sometimes on nights, however, I can do various exercise routines indoors that add good variety to my regimen.

I was notified on Blogger by someone in the UK that MyOpera is shutting down and to export anything I may want. I read an article about it, and sure enough, they’ll be shut down on March 1st. This is one reason I have my stuff published on multiple sites; because I know that any site can shut down at any time for any reason. I guess they’re having both security and financial issues. I don’t need anything exported, though, due to it being on other sites, so they can take what’s there with them. While it’s kind of sad, I won’t miss MO much. I got sick of the spam, scams, and unwanted friend requests. I also don’t like how I can’t backdate entries there.

Andy was saying that he was worried he hurt my feelings by saying he didn’t want to read my book because he doesn’t read books and is only interested in magazines. Also, he doesn’t have as much free time as he may appear to have just because he can check into Ask several times a day. For the sake of avoiding possible home invasions, he doesn’t like anyone to know his schedule, so that’s why he doesn’t usually mention what he’s up to online.

I can totally relate, and I assured him of this, too. People think I have more free time than I actually have because I work at home. Also, we can’t help what does and doesn’t interest us. I like books and movies but don’t care for TV, magazines, celebs, or those I don’t personally know, no matter how talented and rich they may be.

My fellow writing buddy is reading my story, plus those who are interested in reading it in various places I’m sharing it at. As always, I write for me first, be it journals or stories, and any reader is an afterthought that I see as a bonus. I appreciate anyone who’s interested in or inspired by my writing, even if it’s not a must.

I also realize that being older and wiser than I was in 2000 doesn’t necessarily make me invincible to potential trouble. However unlikely it may be, the possibility of once again being victimized, even if it’s in a different way for different reasons and by different people, is still there. And maybe just like last time, God will see to it that I am totally defenseless and unable to fight back. This time, though, my own voice will be heard because if anything ever happens to me again, there’ll be what the “victims” say, what the media says, and then there’ll be the truth. Well, keeping a public journal is a good way of sharing the real me and telling my story, even if I don’t share every single little detail, so here lies the truth, now and in the future. :)

Had a happy dream last night for once. It was a nice change after the usual negative/weird dreams, though there were a couple of weird things about it. It took place in our second Arizona house, and we were apparently expecting some goodies in the mail. It was a Saturday, and I was saying to Tom that I hoped we’d get these things in the mail that day so we wouldn’t have to wait until Monday. Well, one of the “goodies” consisted of an old-fashioned audiocassette of some music. I was so excited to get it too, and happily skipped around the house with it, glad we didn’t have to wait till Monday after all. I also got a purse with dangling palm tree charms, but I have no idea what Tom got.

Chapter 4 brings my book up to 6714 words total.

Later…

Had a very cold half-hour walk. Makes me wish I was in Florida at this time of year. If I were, I’d be walking in the middle of the night like I will be in the summer here. Yahoo said it was 37°F and our thermometer said 48°F. I believe Yahoo. Jim, the 6:00 man, rounded the corner as I was crossing the street, and we waved to each other. Although cold, the walk was great. I lightly jogged a bit, too. I did go see my ducks, but they didn’t ambush me like last time. I think that as long as they don’t hear/see food being served, they won’t do that.

This place is gonna be great for bike riding when I get a new bike! Anyway, my heart rate was in the 130s when I returned.

The cleaning is done, today’s chapter is written, and now I think I’ll study languages. I alternate between two different languages every other day. Yesterday was Spanish and Italian review, so today’s French and German. Might as well do it now before the traffic and landscapers get going out there.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2013 Gotta work out and shower soon, then it’s on to Chapter 3 of my book. Since giving up on trying to lose weight, I expected it to start climbing, even though I’m working out every day, but it has stayed the same. Fine with me.

Norma posted a picture of Nana Bella with her sister Sophie, Norma’s mother, circa 1925. Oh, what pitiful hairstyles they had, but it was so cool to see. Even though she was only around 15 at the time, I recognized which one was Nana. She lived in California when I was born in ’65, so she was mostly a stranger until she had a stroke and came to live with us when I was around 12. By 17, she was gone.

My flip-flops with the 1½-inch heel arrived and fit perfectly. I wanted a pair that consisted of rubber and vinyl so they’d be water-friendly while at the beaches in Hawaii and the pool there as well as here.

I also got flavored coffee – fudge, cinnamon, caramel, and blueberry.

The completion of Chapter 3 makes over 5000 words so far of my new book.

I just went and set these clocks back an hour before I could forget.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 2013 I now have just over 3300 words of my new book written! I’m always on a roll in the beginning. It’s keeping the story going I have trouble with. Guess that’s why I do short stories. Short stories for those with short attention spans. :-) The beginning and the end of the story are always the easiest for me. I’m not using dictation for the book, of course, because it’s not accurate enough. I use it for messages, and that’s about it. Another thing I hate about it is that it takes forever to launch.

Tammy gave me some medical input since she’s not only had tons of medical problems herself but some training as well. She’s not an RN, but she’s… she’s… well, I don’t know what her proper title would be, actually, but she knows more than I do.

Regarding Tammy's health issues, Andy was saying that while he respects the fact that she’s my sister and all that, he has no sympathy for her. He feels that she’s basically getting what she deserves for being the vindictive bitch she can be. After all, she has not only screwed me over in the past but also her daughter. If you can mess over your own flesh and blood, you can mess over anybody. He doesn’t consider her trustworthy, and while I hate to admit it, I don’t trust her 100% either. I would’ve also been THRILLED, while I sat in a cold hard jail cell 13 years ago, to know she would one day suffer as she has and still is. After all, I’m the one who put the spell on her to begin with, not that I’d expect those who don’t know me well to believe it. I’ll only be sharing this entry with my closest friends (or non-Googlable sites she doesn’t know I’m on) because the last thing I need is for her to see it. But yeah, the few who know me well would probably say my rage is what cast the negative energy upon her. The fire starter without the fire, remember? The problem is that I can’t call it off once a spell has been cast. I just don’t know how.

I still struggle with mixed emotions where she’s concerned. I’m not as pissed and as bitter as I used to be, but let’s just say I’m still hesitant, and I know I have to tread lightly. I am always careful and cautious with her. She wouldn’t hesitate to come and get us or fly us to her if we were suddenly homeless and starving on the streets, which is more than I could say for most people who had the means to help us. But God help me should I ever piss her off again, and you know what? God WOULDN’T help me. He has proven time and time again that HE has NO problem with others messing me over. He sat back and let my mother abuse me as a child, so the last thing He gives a damn about is what anyone gets in mind to do to me as a grown adult.

This is someone who lashes out for the wrong reasons. I never in a million years would’ve expected her to turn on me for letting her abusive ex have it. Who the hell in their right minds defends their perps? She wasn't scared of him, after all, though she did claim to be somewhat brainwashed. IDK, poor self-esteem and the belief that she deserved the abuse and that that was all she knew still seems like a piss poor excuse to me, but I will admit I’ve never been in her situation either. We’ve led totally different lives and are totally different people with different beliefs, tastes, and interests.

It’d be fine if she only knew how to contact me online. Then I could just block her or not use sites I couldn’t block her on. But she has our address and our phone numbers. I don’t know that there’s necessarily anything she could do with that info if she pissed me off enough to make me dump her and bring out her vengeful side, but I also hope to never find out either. I know a helluva lot more than I did in 2000 (like not answering the door to the damn pigs or thinking the truth would set me free), and therefore I would be a lot harder to trick, deceive, and manipulate. As I learned the hard way, never touch anything the police hand you. That’s how the welfare bum’s pig pal got my prints onto the evidence he falsified. The worst she could do, I guess, would be to make bogus claims of me making threatening phone calls or writing threatening letters, but without my voice on tape or her ability to produce a letter, she’d have nothing on me. So honestly, I don’t see what she could do with our address, but hey, I’m only human and no one’s 100% foolproof.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2013 NaNoWriMo has begun! It’s kind of exciting. Don’t know if I’ll hit the 50K, but I’m gonna give it a try.

Gonna breeze through this entry so I can get started. Want to try to get in about 2K words today.

The monthly newsletter was delivered, and we were listed as one of the newcomers to be welcomed. I guess they do this every few months. Also, the house across the street is pending. Tom said Brenda and someone else were there for hours the other day, and since that’s a bit long for a showing, he figured she was overseeing a home inspection.

Sometimes I feel like we should take advantage of all that the clubhouse has to offer, but we’re both so busy with other things. Besides, we really did come here to live and not to socialize. Still, one of those painting classes may be fun if I had more free time. I dabbled in oil painting back in the 90s, and it was a messy pain in the ass, but kind of fun. Yes, it’s true, folks. I can draw and paint, though I haven’t done it in years.

I’ve really come to like our oven. I like how I can hear the gas softly hiss and then stop when it’s preheated.

Had a dream last night that Andy’s sister Marla suddenly lived just minutes from us. Andy was to fly out to visit her and asked that I meet him there. I did, but Marla and I barely talked other than to say hello and goodbye because there were hundreds of guests. Andy and I could barely talk as it was cuz so many people kept coming up to him wanting to chat.

Once I was back home, I emailed him to say I sent Marla a message on Facebook thanking her for dinner and saying she was a fabulous cook with a beautiful home. I enclosed a copy for him to give to her in case the message didn’t go through.

[darkmulti]

(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you❤️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we’re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

[cowboycakes]

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

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Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

[citrusdarling7]

jealously

summary- Tom Riddle becomes jealous of reader’s boyfriend and decides to take matters into his own hands

warnings- smut, cheating, degrading, edging, and a bit of light choking. dom! tom, sub! reader

🗡—————————————————————🗡

I’ve never been much of a morning person, but for some reason I was up early today. I knew that I had a potions essay due tomorrow, and I was behind on it. Still in my silky nightgown, I assumed no one else would be in the common room. To my surprise, Abraxas was sitting in front of the fireplace. I smiled and tip-toed over to him, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind him. He squeezed one of my hands gently, acknowledging my presence.

“Darling, why are you up? It’s barely 5 am,” he told me softly. I rolled my eyes and swiveled around the couch so I could sit down next to him.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Malfoy. Oh my God, what happened to your face?” Even in the dim lighting of the Slytherin common room, I could see the dark purple bruises around one of his eyes. I gently reached up to try and touch him, but he turned his face to the side.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Did you sleep well?” He tried to change the subject, but I didn’t let up.

“Brax, what the hell happened? Please tell me that the other guy looks worse,” I said while positioning myself closer to him. I gently ran a finger along his jawline in a comforting gesture. I could smell his sage wood cologne, which I absolutely adored.

“Truthfully darling, I think I’m lucky I walked away without him cursing me. He was absolutely livid after you left.”

Of course. I was such an idiot. Tom had done this to him.

Late last night, Abraxas and I were kissing in the corridor when we decided we wanted to go somewhere more private. Abraxas knows how to find the Room of Requirement, and he dragged me inside, still kissing my neck and holding onto my waist. Unfortunately for us, all of the other 6th year Slytherin boys were already there, brewing some type of illegal potion. Not only had Abraxas forgotten he was supposed to meet with them that night, but he had also exposed me to what was happening.

Although some people would believe so, I’m not naive to what goes on in this school. I know about Tom and his pursuits in dark magic. I know about their constant fights with those Gryffindors who all wear that one lion pin. But Tom seemed to believe that I had no prior knowledge of these secret meetings, and he instantly started yelling at us.

“Malfoy, you idiot! You are not supposed to bring back girls to this room, and certainly not when we’re in the middle of illicit activities!”

Rosier and Avery were still sitting by the cauldron, doing nothing to help the situation. I stepped away from Abraxas and turned towards Tom.

“Calm down, Riddle. You and your superiority complex need to learn that not everyone’s life revolves around yours,” I spat at him. Tom took a step closer to me, and I instinctively reached to pull out my wand. Before I had a chance to, I felt the back of my head being slammed against the wall, Tom’s hand gripping my throat tightly. Abraxas and Rosier both shouted for Tom to let go of me, but I just smiled. I stared him down, letting him know that I wasn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not allowed to speak to me that way,” he growled.

“I can speak to you any way I want Tommy.” His eyes looked as if he wanted to strangle me, but I saw the trace of a smile play across his lips. He abruptly let go of me and turned towards Abraxas.

“You need to keep your girlfriend under control. Get out of here.” Abraxas quickly grabbed my hand and started to pull me towards the door.

“Not you, Malfoy. Your presence is still required here.” I opened my mouth to tell him off again, but Abraxas quickly shook his head.

“Go back to the common room, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” I reluctantly sighed, but figured that I shouldn’t piss Tom off even more. I should have known that Tom would still be angry with Abraxas.

Flashing back to present time, I turned around to look towards the boys dormitories. Abraxas could tell what I was thinking, so he gently squeezed my hand.

“Leave it alone, dearest. He was fine the rest of the night, confronting him will just make him mad again. I don’t want you to get hurt, my love.”

I’m not one to back down easily, and I constantly let my temper get the best of me. But Abraxas’ soft touch against my leg and heart-felt words relaxed me a bit.

“Alright. I won’t say anything. Have you done Slughorn’s essay yet?”

We spent the next hour or so alone in the common room, trying to hastily finish up homework. By the time that others started waking up, I was sitting in his lap, my hands in his hair as we kissed passionately.

“You two are disgusting. 20 points from Slytherin,” a cold voice said. I rolled my eyes and gave Abraxas a quick peck on the lips before sliding off of him and back onto the couch. Tom was Head Boy, and he had no problem with taking points from his own house. He had a lot of nerve as well. Almost every single night I watched him drag some girl into his room. She always left limping a few hours later, and Tom never spoke to her again.

“Put some clothes on. You’re dressed like a whore,” he spat at me. I scoffed at him, but got up to head back to my room anyways. As I slipped on my school robes and brushed out my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tom.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. I managed to get through all of my classes without speaking a word to Tom. After watching the Slytherin quidditch team practice while gossiping with Lestrange, I sat with Rosier and Abraxas in the common room. Rosier made me play chess with him, beating me every single time. This was strange, since I considered myself an excellent chess player. I guess I was just a little distracted. Abraxas excused himself to his dorm room, saying that he had a ton of homework to do. He gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“Something on your mind?” Rosier asked me. I sighed and slumped down in my chair.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m still kind of upset about what happened with Tom. Why do you guys let him treat you all so awfully?”

“It’s not as simple as that. Being friends with Riddle has advantages and disadvantages. The occasional hex or punch to the face isn’t much of a price to pay.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“One of these days I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” I said with a grin. Rosier chuckled and patted my arm.

“Good luck with that.”

A few hours later I was lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had been trying desperately to fall asleep. But something was still on the back of my mind, and that something was preventing me from being able to relax. I let out a sigh and rolled out of bed. I slipped out of my room and quietly walked down the stairs, into the common room. I then made my way up the stairs leading to the boys dormitory. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door at the end of the hallway. He opened the door, and my nostrils were instantly filled with the smell of smoke. Tom stood inches away from me, still in his school uniform. He was holding a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Did you need something, sweetheart?” I rolled my eyes at his stupid pet-name.

“You are absolutely insane, Riddle! You walk around this damn school like you own the place, and I’m sick of it.” He smiled and offered out his arm to me.

“If you’re going to yell at me, then you might as well do it behind closed doors,” he offered. I didn’t take his hand, but I did step inside and let him shut the door behind me. Since he was Head Boy, his room was bigger than all of ours. I could see that his window was open, probably because of the smoke. His bed had black silky sheets adorning it, and I could see all of the books on his desk were neatly stacked. His box of cigarettes was laying on his nightstand.

“So did you come here just to tell me off or did you want a smoke as well?” he taunted.

I turned around to face him again.

“I want you to stop hitting my boyfriend. And the rest of the boys. You have to learn how to respect others.” He chuckled darkly while taking a step towards me.

“Darling, that’s a pretty demanding request. My respect has to be earned.” In an attempt to look more confident, I crossed my arms across my chest.

“You’re such a child, Tom. I don’t know why you think that everyone worships you!” I shouted at him. He quickly wrapped his free hand around my neck and pushed me against the wall. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

“That’s because everyone does. Everyone except you it seems.” I don’t know why Tom had this constant need to slam me up against the wall and choke me. It didn’t make me afraid of his dumbass.

Honestly, it was kind of hot. He brought his other hand up to my face and he touched my cheek softly.

“Did you and Malfoy ever finish what you started yesterday?” It took me a moment to realize that he was asking if we had fucked.

“That’s none of your business,” I snapped at him. He tightened his grip on my throat and used one of his legs to pin down mine.

“Answer my question.”

“No, I haven’t slept with him. Why do you care?” Tom brought his head down to my neck and whispered into my ear.

“Because I’m not into sloppy seconds.” Before I had a chance to mention the fact that he probably had over twenty bodies, he started kissing me roughly. I kissed him back and wrapped my leg around one of his. I let him suck on my neck as he pushed my thin nightgown up my leg and slipped one of his hands under it. He started to slowly rub circles on my thigh. He continued to suck on my neck as I tried to grind against him. He growled and used his other hand to push my waist back against the wall.

“None of that. Do you want me to touch you, darling?” he asked in a mocking tone. I nodded and he slipped his fingers into my underwear.

“Someone’s a needy little slut,” he whispered. Part of me wanted to call him a man-whore, but the part of me that valued my life kept me quiet. I felt him push two fingers inside me and I whimpered. He started to rub my clit with his thumb as he thrusted his fingers in and out of me. He started kissing my neck again as I moaned quietly. He was going incredibly slow, making me desperate for every touch. At a particularly sharp pressure, one of my legs twitched and I had to bite my lip to stop from making noise. Tom chuckled and tilted my chin towards him.

“Didn’t you come here to yell at me? Are you going to yell at me now, darling?” He started to rub me faster, which made it difficult for me to even speak.

“I hate you,” I was able to mutter. He laughed and pinched my waist roughly, making me jump. After only a few minutes, I was starting to get close to my peak. I felt my legs start to shake as I bit my lip to stifle my moans. Tom noticed this, so he stopped touching me. I frowned as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“Did you really think I was going to let you come that quickly?”

Before I had the chance to respond, he grabbed my legs and spun me around, pushing me onto his bed. He quickly tugged my nightgown off of me and started to take off his shirt. I tried to reach up and help him, but he used his free hand to push me back onto the bed. He quickly unbuckled his belt and kicked his pants off before getting on top of me. I felt his member pressing against my thigh. He wrapped a hand around my throat again and used the other hand to gently rub one of my hips.

“Is this what you want? Me to fuck you senseless while your boyfriend sleeps two rooms over?” I felt him rub against my clit, teasing me purposefully. I decided that I wouldn’t tell him that me and Abraxas weren’t actually dating until later.

“Tom-”

“Shut up,” he growled before thrusting into me sharply. As he rocked into me, I definitely felt a bit of pain. He was bigger than what I was used to, but I was adjusting quickly. I tried to rest my arms on his shoulders, but he didn’t like that. He pinned my hands above my head and started to attack my neck with his mouth.

“If you do that again, I’ll tie you down. Don’t test me,” he muttered. He continued to rail into me over and over, hitting me at just the right angle. In less than ten minutes I was close again. I tightly clenched the sheets and tried to grind my hips against his to alleviate some of the tension. That’s when he slipped out of me with a grin.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said while stroking my hair.

“Are you fucking serious?” I complained.

“Completely. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you finish before the night is over.”

I will admit, his self-control was pretty impressive. Most guys wouldn’t be able to handle pulling out before they had finished. But I also figured that he was just bluffing. There was no way he would be able to do this for more than twenty minutes. After 30 or so seconds of him attacking my mouth with his tongue, he thrusted into me again. This time his strokes were a bit slower and more gentle. He rubbed one of my arms lightly as he made me shiver at his touch.

“Tom, oh my God,” I moaned into his neck. I assumed he was going to tell me to shut up, but I guess he liked knowing how good he was making me feel.

“That’s right, darling. You like this?” I nodded my head as he pressed soft kisses against my jawline. I was definitely pleased with his change of pace. The slow stroked and gentle kisses made this feel a bit more like a normal thing. But of course, that didn’t last very long. Once he was done leaving hickies all over my neck, he wrapped his hand around it. He started to press himself deeper inside of me, rocking me into his bed. I whimpered as he hit a spot that made my legs twitch.

“Quiet, slut,” he demanded. I tilted my head slightly away from him, trying to stifle my moans with one of his pillows. I was panting at this point, desperately gripping onto the sheets.

“Could Malfoy make you feel this good?”

“Yeah, if I was with him I would’ve came by now,” I thought to myself. However, I shook my head in an attempt to appease him.

“That’s right. Should I let you finish now?” I nodded and he jerked my face back towards him. “Alright. Beg for it.” That actually made me laugh. There was no way I was going to give into him that easily. Tom shrugged and continued to pound into me. “Be difficult then. I don’t care either way.”

I bit down my lip to muffle a scream as my stomach flipped and my legs shook. Right when I was about to be sent over the edge, he pulled out of me again. By now, I was completely fed up with him. I tried to bring one of my hands down between my legs, but he was quicker than me. He grabbed both of my arms and roughly pinned them above my head.

“I don’t think so, dear. I want the whole hallway to hear you screaming my name,” he said while stroking my cheek tauntingly.

“Good luck with that,” I said with an eye roll.

“You’re mine now. No one gets to touch you but me,” he muttered into my ear before thrusting into me again. By now I could see finger-shaped bruises starting to form on my waist. We had been going at it for at least 35 minutes, and my body was aching for release. I was confident that he had left at least 5 or so hickies on my neck, which I was not looking forward to having to cover up tomorrow. Out of instinct, I tried to move my leg around his to adjust the angle. Tom slammed me down onto his bed roughly.

“Don’t fucking move,” he growled. He pressed one of his thumbs against my clit, making me whimper. I was so frustrated that tears had started to stream down my face. Tom gently wiped them away with his free hand.

“Are you gonna apologize for yelling at me earlier?” he asked in a snarl. I shook my head, which made him chuckle.

“That’s what I thought. If you’re gonna be like that, you clearly haven’t learned your lesson.” He started to kiss roughly at my collar, obviously trying to mark me more. After a few minutes of listening to me whine and pant, he decided to give me another chance.

“Promise me you’ll stop hanging around Malfoy,” he said softly. That kind of threw me for a loop.

“What? Why?” He nibbled on my ear lobe and thrusted into me sharply.

“You’re my little slut now. I don’t want him touching you. Promise me.” I instinctively shook my head, which only made his thrusts even harder.

“Promise me, darling. Like I said, I can go all night.” I really, really wanted to keep my mouth shut. But I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t take much more.

“Fine. I promise. Please Tom, I-”

He bit down on my lip and thrusted into me at the perfect angle and speed.

Over-and-over again.

I moaned his name as well as a stream of profanities as waves of pleasure tore through my body. My legs were shaking so bad that he had to actually hold them down. While I was riding out my high, Tom muttered praises into my ear. I was so extremely sensitive that every touch set off fireworks against my skin.

“Take me like a good girl,” he said before roughly grabbing my throat. It took him a few minutes to finish himself off, but when he did it was so hot. He didn’t even bother to pull out. He continued to kiss me for a bit before he got up and started to walk towards his bathroom.

“Now, get the hell out of my room, whore.”

I smiled at his lovely term of endearment as I tried to quickly pull my clothing back on. I stood up quickly, and my legs gave out beneath me. Tom laughed as he put on his bathrobe.

“You’re pathetic,” he said while helping me up. Surprisingly enough, he walked me back to my dorm, smiling the entire way. Before he turned to leave he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear.

“Sleep well, darling.” I flashed him a sweet smile.

“You too, Riddle.”

[xoxo-teddybear]

He’s Lost - Bakugou Katsuki - Part 2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, slightest fluff, cursing, physical harm mentions, lowkey little yandere obsessive hints, smut, 18+, daddy kink, sad boi Bakugou    :(

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Summary: Bakugou’s been going through hell ever since the breakup. He’s been so lost without you. But he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win back his Teddy bear. Everything and anything for the love of his life.

*Everyone is of age for legal consent (which is 16 in Japan, if you are uncomfortable with it please move along, thx<3)*

A/N: Bakugou is a little OOC but the main thing in the beginning starts with fixing up Katsuki a little bit. So sorry if you don’t really enjoy it all that much<3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Melancholy music bounces off the walls of the dark room. The river of tears that flow down his once perfect porcelain skin is everlasting. As he lays in the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, he thinks about all he could’ve done better for you. In his hand, the same framed picture of you both that he’s held onto every night ever since the horrible incident. Y/N L/N. Like a song that’s stuck on loop. It’s the only thing that runs through his mind.

The door swiftly opens, and much to his disliking, a massive amount of light now enters the former den of manliness pit of depression.

To show his displeasure, Bakugou rolled himself in the blankets, covering his entire body in them and being the picture inside with him as well. With different circumstances, Y/N would’ve thought it was cute or adorable, but it wasn’t Y/N that opened the door.

“Really Bakubro?” The blonde’s best friend spoke.

Eijirou Kirishima. The best friend of our dearest sad boy. He’s been letting his Bakubro crash in his dorm room because Katsuki refuses to clean his own. It looks exactly the same as it did on Valentine’s Day. Just a little different.

Rose petals were dead and dried up on his floors, candles were nearly melted to the bottom as they lay everywhere in the room, the curry was thankfully thrown out by Kirishima claiming that he could smell the spoiled aroma all the way from his room. But the presents, letter, and new gear stayed in the exact same spots. Bakugou didn’t feel worthy enough to be blessed with all the stuff but he was oh so desperate to be worthy. Worthy of your time, your love, and you in general.

Bakugou let out a grumbled whine of displeasure. He could feel the disappointment and concern radiating off his friend. As Katsuki poked just his face out of the covers, he was met with the expression that represented those two things.

“You can’t keep living like this bro,” Kirishima began, “You can’t keep hallowing in sadness in my room. I wanna help you, but you gotta help yourself too. Ever since you and Y/N split-“ Bakugou quickly interrupted.

“We didn’t split, she left me!” The blonde cried.

“...Right, okay. Well ever since Y/N left you, you’re not the same. You stay in here, playing the same damn sad tunes, covering yourself in my blankets, crying all day, and holding onto that picture! You haven’t even been to class or training! Shit man, you don’t even come out of my room to eat food! I gotta bring your plate here just to make sure that you’re properly fed. You’re a mess Bakugou. And not even the hot kind!” His best friend was right. He was a mess. And not even the hot kind.

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do shitty hair?” Bakugou said while dragging the covers over his face once more. Inside the blanket he held onto the picture as if it were actually you.

The fake red head snatched the covers off of his friend’s body and forced him up.

The said friend didn’t take too kindly to that and growled in displeasure.

“What the fuck Kirishima,” Bakugou said, a little to calm and chilling.

“Dont give me that bull Katsuki. You gotta get her back. I would say move on, but it’s clear you can’t.” Kirishima said while rolling his eyes.

Bakugou mirrored the action and said “yea no shit genius. I can’t and won’t move on.”

“So then go get her man!” Kirishima yelled

“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that? Huh?!” Bakugou was so confused. In what way was it going to be possible to win you back?

“Figure it out! Look Bakugou, I’ll be here to help you along the way, but you gotta figure this shit out on your own. This is your relationship here, if you want it as bad as you claim you do then prove it. You want Y/N back? Then fight for her, idiot!” The blonde’s eyes seemed to go wide.

Two words stuck out to Katsuki during his friend’s little speech. Prove it. Fuck yeah he will! He’ll prove to the whole damn universe how much he wants you back. More importantly, he’ll prove it to you and win you back.

The iconic Bakugou smirk reappeared on Katsuki’s face. Kirishima took it as a good sign. “Alright shitty hair, you want me to prove how badly I want Y/N back. FINE!” The two friends pulled the iconic bro hug to seal the deal.

(You know? That shit that guys do where they high five and pull each other in with that one hand for the quickest hug and pat each other on the back? You know what I’m talking about.)

“Welcome back Katsuki.” Kirishima gladly stated. “Now get the fuck out of my room man, I’m sick of sleeping on the common room couches and you reek. Take a shower. And get your own clothes from your own room.”

As Kirishima pushed him out into the hallway and shut the door, it hit Bakugou like a bus. This would be Katsuki’s first challenge. Going back into the room filled with the torn love.

As Katsuki opened the door holding onto the picture, he felt his heart sink. He saw the damage. Melted candles, dried petals, the gifts and letter. Even the nasty smell of the spoiled curry still remained. As Katsuki gathered the courage to walk in and place the picture on the messy nightstand, it’s like the room was holding onto some sad emotions. Heartache and regret filled Katsuki’s chest. He couldn’t believe how fast it happened. He thought he would at least have a minute or two before he felt the pain again. Man, did it hurt like hell.

Katsuki dashed to his closet grabbing the first things he saw. He grabbed his shower container that held all his soaps and cleaning utensils and ran out the room, shutting the door. Once out, he let out a breath of relief.

“...after I clean myself up, the room’s next.” Katsuki said with determination as he walked towards the boy’s community showers and bath house.

When the hot water hit his skin, he felt a sense of calm. It wasn’t the same as the warmth of Kirishima’s blankets. It was better. The water and hot steam completely engulfed him in relaxation. The water washed away not only the dirt and grime, but also some of the tense feelings. For a moment, he felt at ease.

As Katsuki walked out the bathing area now fully clothed and dried, he made his way back to his room. He stood there, staring at the knob until he felt he was ready. Once he opened the door, the emotions hit him once again. Like a wave of sadness washed over his entire body. Finally, he stepped in.

First things first. Open up these windows. Let out that disgusting air filled with spoiled curry and sad emotions. When Katsuki took a breath a fresh air, he felt so alive. Much better than he has in days.

Now, we gotta move stuff. Katsuki picked up his dirty laundry and put it in his closet to wash later. He moved all his presents up off the floor and onto the bed. He swepted all the dead petals and toss them in his trash can. He threw out all the ruined candles and sprayed the room with air fresheners. He fixed up his bed and placed the picture frame back on his now cleaned nightstand. Next to it, a lit candle that smelled of caramel.

Katsuki took a seat at his desk. He was back to thinking about Y/N and all that he could do to win her back. As he checked his clock, he realized just how late it was. Kirishima came back to him at the end of class and training which was around 6. He spent an hour talking to Katsuki, and then Katsuki spent 4 hours cleaning himself and his room. It was 11:00 now. Way past his usual bed time. He’ll figure things out in the morning.

Katsuki smiled to himself as he layed in his own bed. He was finally on the right track again and one step closer to getting his teddy bear back. He turned to the picture frame, and grabbed onto it, hugging it while he slept. Katsuki was getting better but he wasn’t whole again. He needed Y/N to help him sleep alright, so holding the picture at night will have to do. He couldn’t wait till he woke up in the morning. Tomorrow he had school, he’ll get to see Y/N’s beautiful face for the first time in awhile, but before that, you bet your ass he’s waking up extra early to come up with a plan.

——————————————————————————

The next morning

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

The blonde smacked his alarm button before he rose up and stretched his body. Today was the day. He’s gets to see Y/N again. Bakugou just sits in place staring at nothing. Just taking 2 minutes to regain full consciousness. Once he’s set, he’s up and getting ready. It’s 4 in the morning now, so he begins to strategize.

Katsuki is pulling out easels and white boards. Pulling out notebooks and writing down facts. What Y/N is interested in, her favorite hobbies and foods, where she likes to spend her time, what she could need help with that Bakugou could assist her with. He’s also writing down the highlights of their relationship and what she seemed to enjoy best about him. He’ll be keeping that as a reference for when he needs to reassess on how he should treat her better. He will do better this time. That’s a promise to himself and you.

After half an hour of slightly struggling, he reaches out for help. Now at 4:30 a.m, here was the blonde knocking at his best friend’s door.

Rock music is blasting, sweat is flying everywhere and punches are being thrown at a hero. Not just any hero, Crimson Riot! As Kirishima continues to spar with his idol, he’s interrupted by a banging sound.

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

“The hell?” The younger red head says. Soon his idol began to fade away.

“Crimson Riot! Hey are you okay sir?!” But it was too late, the man was gone. Now the whole room was waving around. Did Kirishima accidentally mistake his giant jug of water for vodka or something? Soon he was left in nothing but a black abyss. And then....he fell!

“Shitty hair.....Ei....KIRISHIMA!”

“AH!” The red head screamed as he shot up from the bed, head-butting his best friend right then and there. Great, a perfect dream. Ruined.

“Ah, shit!” Bakugou said in pain as he held his now throbbing forehead. “What the fuck?”

“That’s my line Bakugou,” the red head sighed, “Did you break into my room? Jeez man, what the fuck? What are you doing here at.....4:38 a.m?!?!? DUDE!”

“I know, my bad okay? But..I could use some help.” Bakugou whispered the last part so Kirishima had no idea what this man just said.

“What bro?” Kirishima asked.

“I said....I could use some help.” The blonde repeated.

“C’mon man, you’re gonna have to speak u-“

“I need your help, alright?!” Bakugou finally said. Kirishima sighed. His bro really couldn’t wait until later?

“Bakugou, you know I’m always down to help you out but this is too early man. Can we just-“ the blonde quickly added on to what he was previously saying.

“Please.”

Kirishima’s eyes shot open after he closed them to drift off back to sleep. Did the Katsuki Bakugou just ask for help by saying please? This must be extremely important.

“......alright. You got me, I’m up. But if I’m gonna be up at 4 in the morning, others are gonna be helping us too.” Kirishima bargained.

“But-“ Kirishima cut him off

“But nothing. Besides, I’m drowsy in the morning so I wouldn’t really focus all that well. And we’re just going to the people we can trust.” The red head explained.

“Fine.” The blonde gave in. So there they went, gathering the other members of the Bakusquad (minus Y/N) to help Bakugou win back his girl.

As the 4 sleepy heads sat down on Bakugou’s floor infront of the whiteboard he wrote on, The blonde began to explain some of his plans.

“So I was thinking of treating her real nice all day until she takes me back and we become friends again, eventually leading to our relationship, but then I realized she’d be into a fake me and we all know I can’t pull the nice guy act forever. Then I thought I’d spoil her with all of the things she desires, but money can’t buy you love. So I thought I could-“ Katsuki quickly noticed the long period of silence other than his voice.

There, were his 4 friends sleeping in a dog pile in the middle of his dorm room floor, completely ignoring everything he’s been saying.

Bakugou sighed and grabbed a small “heroes weekly” issue sitting on his desk, rolled it up, and wacked his friends in their heads.

“You idiots...WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Ahh, welcome back Gremlin Bakugou.

As his friends came back from the dead, they all complained.

“Aww c’mon Bakugou. We’ve been at this for an hour already, it’s 5:40.” Sero said while yawning.

“I don’t care. You idiots offered to help so here you are.” Bakugou said while turning to face the board again.

“We didn’t offer shit!” The bakusquad simultaneously replied.

Mina let out a groan while rubbing her eyes open, “Look Bakugou. We really want you and Y/N to be happy together, we really do, but maybe it’s for the best if you guys don-“ Mina was cut off by Denki slapping his hand over her mouth.

As she looked at her electric friend, she saw a nervous expression on his face. She followed his gaze and saw the back of an angry and almost insane looking and shaking Bakugou.

Hearing Mina say that he should let Y/N go triggered something in his brain. But hearing her say they wanted the couple back together enlightened him too. His mind got the two mixed up.

‘Everyone wants us back together. Not just me. So...then we are back together. Yeah. Y/N is still mine’ the now insane blonde thought to himself.

“....Ok well, time to go, get some sleep, see you idiots in the morning!” Bakugou said while pushing the group out of his room. Once they made it over the threshold, he slammed the door.

With an insane plan in mind, Bakugou checked the time and saw he could take at least a good hour long nap before he had to get ready to leave for school. And that’s exactly what he did. So he jumped into the covers, grabbing onto the picture and drifted off into sleep.

——————————————————————————

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *click!*

Bakugou’s alarm rang once more, and again, he slammed it shut. He stretched, got up outta bed and changed into his uniform. That power nap really well rested him, but it also must’ve fucked up his brain even more.

‘And now it’s time to go see my beautiful girlfriend,’ he thought to himself.

After Mina’s comments last night, it hit Bakugou with a great realization. Everyone wanted him and Y/N back together. Not just him. So why not give everybody what they want? Sure maybe Y/N might not completely want it but she’ll learn how to love Bakugou again. Everyone’s happy. And so, Bakugou was convinced that him and Y/N were back together.

At breakfast, Bakugou ran down to already see the Squad up and eating.

“Why the hell do you losers look like death?” He asked while grabbing a cup for his orange juice.

“Well we were all trying to sleep, but after what happened this morning, we couldn’t.” Mina explained.

“What happened this morning? There was nothing big except you guys helping me out.” Kirishima really couldn’t believe it. Had his dear friend not even notice his weird ass trigger moment earlier?

“Alright whatever. Anyway, wheres Y/N?” Bakugou asked after he finished his cup.

“Oh, she just left. She had an early breakfast and went for a quick walk.” Mina said.

“You planning on talking to her today Kacchan?” Denki questioned him.

“You damn Spark Plug, of course I’m gonna talk to my girlfriend today. Fucking idiot.” He said as he grabbed his bag and walked out the kitchen.

“.........Huh?” The entire squad was left in confusion.

‘Had they gotten back together this morning? Did she really accept him back that fast? What the fuck is going on?’ They all thought.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?” Kaminari cried out as he pulled at and scruffled his hair in confusion.

Ah Denki. Always saying what everyone is thinking but the only one ballsy enough to idiotically say it aloud.

——————————————————————————

As she walked to class, Y/N hummed a little song to herself. She enjoyed her walk as it helped clear her mind from all the recent events. Her breakup with Bakugou really took a toll on her. They were together for almost 2 years (EVER SINCE JUNIOR HIGH) so of course the split hit her hard. He accused her of cheating and burned her. So much for trust, right? Not only that, but the burn left a tiny scar. Usually, due to you having a regeneration ability as part of your quirk, Phoenix, the scar should’ve healed up. Maybe the emotional damage caused it to permanently mark itself in you. Oh well, whats done is done. And now it’s time for class.

When you walked though the door, you were expecting a normal day. Ever since the split, you usually got their a lot earlier before anyone else so you could sit, do a little reading, sketch out a little drawing, or just rest your eyes until the bell rang. Except this time, when you opened the door, someone jumped on you for a hug.

“Babe! There you are you little dumbass. Jeez, I was looking for you everywhere.” Bakugou said as he let go of the hug. “I’ve missed you, haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Uhm, you said babe??” You spoke with a confused and shocked voice.

“Yeah, I called you babe? So what? We always call each other that. You are my girlfriend after all.” He said so casually as he walked to his seat.

THISMANSAIDWHAATTT

“Uh, Bakugou-“

“Katsuki.” He deadpanned.

“Bakugou, we broke up.” You stated while walking up to him.

“Mm...no we didn’t.” He once again so casually said.

“Wha- I- we- you-....HUH?!” You stuttered out.

“Y/N-“

“L/N!” You corrected.

“Y/N. We didn’t break up you dummy, we only had a little set back and that’s fine. All couples do. But thankfully you forgave me and we’ve moved past it,” he began as he pulled you into his lap, “besides, everyone wants us back together including us so why not make it easier for everyone.”

You began stuttering out none sense right there on his lap. You were in such shock and utter disbelief that he said all that bullshit. Well maybe he was right about one thing. Everyone did want you guys back together, including you both, but that’s besides the point! Y’all broke up! He needs to accept it.

“Baku- no- I- we-“ and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

And for some reason, you didn’t push him away. Granted you didn’t accept it either, but you slowly melted into it. The kiss was passionate and slow. It wasn’t sloppy, it was very controlled, but it was just a lotta lip and tongue. The whole thing sent butterflies to your heart and stomach. Oh how you missed moments like these with Katsuki.

He readjusted you on his lap so that you were now straddling him. His hands travelled down to your ass as he gave it a nice squeeze, one that made you moan into the kiss. Your arms went straight to his neck to pull him in for more and he took it as an invitation to start. The kiss began to get a little rougher. More tongue and teeth, both of you extremely desperate for the touch from one another. With your cunt pressed onto his crotch, he slowly thrusted up into you as you grinded down slowly on him. You both started breathing heavier and letting out little whimpers of ecstasy. He could probably feel your now soaked panties. One hand left your ass and came around to the front. He pressed on your soaked pussy through your damp underwear and it caused shutters to go through your entire body.

You began pressing down into his hand, desperate for more friction and Bakugou noticed. He moved your panties to the side and slipped in one finger. This was rewarded with a louder moan that caused Katsuki to smile into the kiss. He knew you and your body so well. He was determined to treat you right and get you to fall for him one more time. As his finger felt around your velvet walls, he slipped in another one, receiving an even louder cry of pleasure. You broke off from the kiss to throw your head back. Katsuki saw this as an opportunity to attack your neck. To mark you up and let everyone know you still belonged to him.

“K-Katsuki. Don’t...don’t stop,” you panted.

“I won’t princess, I’ll take care of you.” He smiled.

Without warning, he shoved in 2 more fingers. You were so loud and Bakugou was so proud. You were gonna let everyone know what’s happening and he was excited.

He lifted his head to whisper into your ear as you continued to moan and sigh.

“Well aren’t you just a little slut. You want everyone to know how well daddy takes care of you? You want them to hear you scream in pleasure?” His words went straight to your cunt that was now welcoming in his 5th and final finger. Completely fisting you now, you let out loud cries.

“S-uki, .....ah, AH YES! Mm, s’too much!” You cried out. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. You knew you did. Even though what he did was wrong, your body took over and your mind turned off. You fully succumbed to his wishes.

You let your feet hit the ground to stand yourself up a little bit and fall down onto his fist, meeting the thrust of his hand moving in and out of you. Watching the show, Katsuki couldn’t help but stare in delight. His hard on growing bigger and bigger each second as he bit his lip to hold back his sounds. Watching you bounce on just his fist did something to him and brought out a feral beast. He snapped.

He pulled his fist out of your aching pussy and sat you down on his desk. He stood up infront of you and tore your delicate panties off.

“Katsuki-“ you were silenced with a smack to your ass

“That’s not my name, teddy bear. C’mon now, you know exactly what I wanna hear.” He said while caressing your thighs.

“..Yes daddy.” You bashfully said.

With a kiss to your cheek he praised you.

“Good girl.” As he began to unbuckle his belt, you looked around the classroom.

“D-daddy. Someone’s gonna see!” You cautiously stated.

Katsuki reassured you with a kiss to your lips, “We’ll be fine princess, I promise,” he said while placing his tip at your entrance. You whimpered at the thought of him inside you again, it’s been so long. You were almost nervous. That is until Katsuki place a finger under your chin so you could face him in his eyes.

“I’m gonna take care of you, so don’t worry.” And with that you slowly nodded. And he finally began to press into you.

With just his tip in, you let out a breathy moan. He was bigger than you remembered. He kept pressing and pressing until he was fully inside your warm and tight hole. You both let out a moan at the feeling of each other.

“Daddy, please move.” And he did as he was told. With a steady pace set, he thrusted himself in and out of you. Both of you moaning louder every second. While you were enveloped in the euphoric feeling, Katsuki was struggling to hold back the beast inside of him. That is until you came up to his ear.

“Fuck me like you mean it, daddy. I won’t break, I promise.” You said in his ear and Katsuki swore he could hear your smirk. Gripping your ass and continuing his pace he spoke.

“Don’t be mad when you can’t walk for the next week,” he smirked. With that, he slammed himself deeper, harder, and faster inside of you. His tip hitting your cervix. You let our screams of pure pleasure and he did the same.

“Oh yesss...shit daddy..so big..”

“F-fuck! Oh you like that? Yeah princess? ...oh shit baby your pussy takes me so well. Y-Yeah, your tight little cunt takes this big cock so fucking well,” he moved faster inside, exploring you completely. His hands went straight to your shirt and and ripped it open. You had a few buttons fly everywhere, but you didn’t care. He pushed your bra up and let one of your mounds fall into his hand. He squeezed it tight to release a generous moan from you. He then dove into the valley of breast to mark your chest. You held onto the back of his head and tugged at his hair and he growled at he feeling, enjoying every second of it.

“Oh yess princess just like that. S-shit. Oh fuck yes...oh you’re mine,” he went deeper inside as he spoke.

“Fuck! Daddy yes! Right t-there! Oh my god..yess,” you cried out.

“Can you feel that. Oh fuck, can you feel my dick in your gut?” He moaned out. Katsuki went to grip the edge of his desk as you kept your hold around his neck, causing him to somehow move faster. He went up to taste your lips once more

“I love you....so much princess...you hear me...Mm, your mine,” he said between kisses and ended with a smack to your now red ass.

His words had you squeezing his cock. He knew what was coming.

“Aww, is princess gonna cum? You gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” He teased.

“Mm...p-please daddy. Please let me cum,” you said while throwing your head back. Katsuki only smirked at this.

“Not yet~” he pulled out of you, leaving you a whiny mess.

“N-no! Daddy please! Please let me finish,” you said while holding onto his shoulders, inches away from his face, pressing your chest to his. Your words caused his “little” friend to grow even harder and Katsuki only smirked and looked down at you.

“Dont worry teddy bear, Daddy’s not done with you yet.” He yanked you off the desk and pressed you down onto it, with your chest to the desk. Then he slammed back into you, returning to the fast pace again.

“Fuck yeah..oh god look at this ass. Nice and round, all red for me,” he said while pounding into you.

He gave your ass a good few smacks, countered with a thrust each harder than the last before going to lay his chest on top of you to whisper in your ear.

“You wanna be a good girl for daddy? Huh, teddy bear?” He asked.

“Mmm, yes! Yes I’ll be good, just please!” You cried out. He reached his hand over to rub on your clit. Your body began to shake with pleasure.

“Then cum with me.....NOW,” he said, and that was all it took for you to release the white liquid. As you came you could feel his hot release filling you up to the brim. He cried out in pure pleasure while you did the same.

You both stayed in that position for a bit, and you could feel the mixture of both your release dripping down your inner thighs. Soon, you felt Katsuki lower himself to kiss your neck.

“You did so good princess.” He calmly said to you. It was relieving, and you loved the sound of his voice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little off at this whole ordeal.

Katsuki pulled out of you and watched how his cum covered and filled your entire pussy. He smiled at the sight and went to grabbed some tissue on Aizawa’s desk to clean you and himself up.

He tucked himself back into his pants and you rebuttoned your shirt the best you could and flipped your skirt back down. Since Katsuki tore your panties you’d have to go commando at least until you got back to your room. You watched as Katsuki went to throw away the tissues and your torn underwear into the trash can. When he made his way back to you, he held you in his arms and attempted to kiss you. But you turned away.

“Hey teddy be-“

“No, Katsuki. Please don’t call me that.” You said while looking down. Katsuki felt his heart hurt a little. You’re always gonna be his teddy bear, why would he ever stop calling you that?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked you.

“Us. This. Katsuki, what happened today should not have happened.” You said

“What?” He was so confused and a little hurt.

As tears start to fill your eyes, you did everything you could to not let them fall. “Suki, we broke up. You accused me of cheating, you burned me! So for us to come in here and just have sex like nothing happened is wrong.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what happened. Seriously, after what I did it destroyed me. But please listen, I lov-“ you cut him off again.

“I know!.....I know you do Katsuki.....and I love you too Suki. So much,” this brought a smile to his face. A true, genuine smile that you loved so dearly.

“But I’m scared.” You added on. This made Katsuki’s smile drop, worry and concern fill his eyes.

“Of what exactly?” He asked you while gently holding onto your hand.

“.....You.” This shocked him. His own teddy bear feared him. Heartbreaking.

“I’m scared of the lack of trust that you have for me. And not only that, but your quirk too. Katsuki I know you’re one of the best students here at UA, but I know you’re emotions can get out of hand too. It’s clear that when you’re not in control of your feelings, your quirk can lash out. The evidence is right here,” you turned you arm that he was holding to show him the scar he left on you.

Now this really hurt Katsuki. He loved marking you with his love, not with his anger. The fact that he did that to you sent his mind into a frenzy. Until he felt your touch on his cheek.

Holding onto his cheek with your soft hands, you spoke reassuring words. “Katsuki, you were right about two things. I do want us to be together again and I do forgive you,” and with that, Katsuki leaned into your touch. Holding onto your hand that held his face, he released a single tear he didn’t know he was holding and closed his eyes in relief and satisfaction.

“But I can’t be with you again.” Your words caused him to open his eyes and stare at you in shock and fear. “At least...not yet.”

Whew, his heart rate went back down. Oh the rollar coaster of emotions this poor boy was currently on.

“Yet?” He asked hopefully.

“Suki, I’m still trying to fix myself, and it’s clear that you need to fix yourself too. I really want to be with you, but we both need time to grow for each other. I can’t leave you. I know for sure that in my heart, you’re always gonna be the one I run back to, but I don’t want to run back to someone who could possibly hurt me again. I want to come back to you knowing that when we are together again, our relationship is secured.” You explained.

A silence filled the air. You both stared at each other for what felt like forever. Nobody else in the world. Just you and him. He then pulled you in for a tight hug. As he held onto you, you could feel hot tears hitting your shoulder, and quiet sobs left his voice along with a hitched breath every now and then. Katsuki was crying.

“....I promise you. I’m gonna get better for you. I’m gonna be worthy of you and your love and it’ll stay that way for the rest of our lives. You and me. Together. Im gonna do whatever it takes to get you back and I won’t stop at anything until you’re mine again. I swear I’ll treat you better than I ever did before. As long as I know that you’re coming back to me and me only, I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes teddy bear.” He said into your neck with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

“I know you will Suki. And I promise I won’t make you wait too long.” You said while hugging him back.

“You better not.” The blonde said.

“Don’t forget though, I’m always yours. And just yours.” You reassured him.

“......Can we at least make this a little easier for me and say we didn’t split. We’re just on a break. A small break?” He said, now looking directly in your eyes while still holding onto you.

You put his worries at ease with your gentle smile. “The smallest break, Suki.” You softly laughed as you both went back in for another hug.

“........I like it better when you call me daddy,” the damn devil said while smiling.

“Shut up you horny idiot.” You chuckled.

‘I can’t wait to be yours again,’ you both thought

You both stayed there in each other’s embraces until the world faded away. It was just you and him. Together. You were both no longer lost. You weren’t at your destination yet, but you were on the right tracks. One step closer to each other. One step closer to love.

A/N: There’s still a little more I wanna add to the story, so there will be a part 3 to close this little short story. Sorry if there were any spelling mistakes. Thank you guys so much for the love and support. As a new writer I never expected to grow so quickly so I truly love each and every one of you bear cubs! Sorry this was so long, I hope you enjoyed! 💗🧸

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Game Over

Based On: “When You Sleep” by Mary Lambert

Summary: Frat!Harry only wants you when he’s drunk, and you’ve finally had enough

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

Here I was for the third time this week pulling up to a frat party in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be here, but, just like all the other times he had too much to drink, he needed me. Usually it takes a great amount of pushing past drunk underaged college kids to find him at these things. But this time, as soon as I reached the yard of the house, dimly lit by an array of neon party lights, I spotted a mop of curly brown hair, hunched over a bush.

“Yo! Harry dude! I thought we agreed no more puking in our bushes?!” Some frat guy was yelling at him from the porch. Harry’s only response was to flip the guy off and grin while using the bush to hold him up. “Finally! Your baby sitter’s here” The guy half-joked noticing my arrival.

Harry turned around to face me a little too fast, and he stumbled forward nearly falling. I tried my best to support him but there was no chance. I by no means would consider myself “small” or “petite”, but compared to Harry’s 6-foot, broad shouldered stature, he was too large.

“Hey! What’re ya doing hur?” Harry drunkenly slurred semi-regaining his balance.

“Haz, you called me, remember?” Normally I would’ve been embarrassed calling him anything but his name. But I’ve done this enough times to know, in the morning, he won’t remember any of the words exchanged tonight.

It took nearly an hour to get Harry back to my dorm room. Our new personal best. It’s not that I live far from the frat house, it’s more the process of getting Harry here. The trip usually goes something like, helping Harry stumble to the car, pulling over at every traffic light so Harry can throw up, finally making it to his apartment (which is past my own apartment), Harry begging me to help him to his front door, Harry realizing he “forgot” his keys, Harry asking if he can just crash at my place instead, me driving Harry back to my apartment, helping Harry stumble into my dorm.

It took about the third time of this routine being repeated for me to realize the coincidence of Harry forgetting his keys every time he went out, got shit faced, and called me to come pick him up, wasn’t so much a coincidence. And even though it was the same thing every time, I never skipped the step of driving to his apartment, because I knew it meant he’d have to verbally ask me if he could stay with me. And in some sick way, I got off to hearing his lips form those words. It was something so small, but something that meant so much to me. And he knew that. Drunk or not. I knew what the morning would bring, but for the night, I’d listen to Harry’s slow, peaceful breathing as he slept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Harry attempting to tip-toe around, collecting his things before I’d wake up. And just like every other morning, I lay perfectly still, letting silent tears hit the pillow, while I listen to the boy I love try to pretend he was never here.

LATER ON CAMPUS

“Hey (Y/N), what did I miss in class today?” I swiveled around in the library chair to face the person who was speaking to me.

Before even facing him, I recognized the voice as a kid from my Biology class, who also happened to be from my hometown. We weren’t necessarily friends, but we engaged in small talk every once in a while. Although I knew who it was before I turned around, I didn’t expect Harry to be standing there with him.

“Oh, uh, not too much.” I focused as hard as I could on my classmate to keep from looking over at Harry. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I can send them to you if you want.”

“Sick! Can you email them to me right now, so I can print them right quick?” I wanted badly to make up some excuse for why I just had to leave and send the notes later, so I could get far far away from Harry. But when I opened my mouth, “Sure” is all that came out.

The guy sat at the computer across from me, and Harry sat down next to him. I fixed my eyes on the computer screen and tried to steady my shaky hands enough to hurriedly send the notes. All the while Harry continued to stare.

As soon as the notes were sent, I logged off the computer and packed up my things. In order to get out of the library I had to pass Harry and the guy, and it was just my luck that the guy had gotten up to go print. As I passed Harry, he grabbed my wrist stopping me. I finally looked into his green eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare like he had already been doing.

“What?” I asked getting uncomfortable with the intensity he was looking at me with. He just shrugged in response.

Once Harry noticed his friend walking back to the computer, he quickly released my wrist, and turned around, as if nothing had ever happened.

Things have been this way with Harry since I met him. Since the day I became his. He knew I had a crush on him, and it gave him some sort of ego trip. Even though he knew I already wanted him, he wanted to make sure it would stay that way. So, whenever he felt like I wasn’t paying him enough attention, or he thought my yearning for him was slipping away, he’d throw me a bone to keep me begging. Initially I made the mistake of thinking this meant that by some chance, he wanted me the same way, but he proved time and time again (through his actions and his words), this wasn’t the case.

And after months of taking whatever treatment Harry would give me. I finally snapped. It happened one night at a party. I was drinking, and I didn’t know he’d be there. I spent the night avoiding him. I was afraid of what drunk me may say or do once I got around him. When he entered a room, suddenly I had somewhere else to be. When he needed another drink from the kitchen, suddenly I wasn’t thirsty anymore. When he wanted to join on the beer pong table, suddenly I was bored of the game. And Harry noticed.

I was on the second floor of the house on my own, exhausted from dodging Harry all night. I leaned my back against the wall of the hall after the stairs reminded me just how buzzed I really was. I guess Harry spotted me heading up stairs because I heard footsteps on the stairs, before he appeared at the top of them. Without saying anything, Harry glanced over his shoulder, before walking and standing directly in front of me. He put an arm up on either side of my head, trapping me between him and the wall.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” he said too casually for our position. “Are you mad at me or something?” This took me by surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.” Again, his tone was way too casual for the things he was saying. But honestly, that’s always how Harry played it.

“You mean living my life? Enjoying the party? Not worshiping the ground you walk on?” Harry’s only response was a smirk. That’s when I started getting angry. “Look I’m too drunk to even be having this conversation with you right now Haz, so can we ju-“

“What’d you just call me?” Harry questioned raising an eyebrow at me. I froze. I was so drunk and emotional that I had accidentally let it slip. But upon processing the look on Harry’s face as something almost resembling distain, my embarrassment turned to pure anger.

“What do you want from me Harry?!” anger was thick in my voice as I pushed him backwards further from me.

“What are you talki-“

“No. Don’t you dare do that! Don’t act like you’re clueless. Like-like you haven’t been playing games with me since we met!” He said nothing. Instead he just stood staring at me. An emotionless expression painted across that beautiful face.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted the fire burning inside of me to push me to finally walking away from this toxic man. But seeing that there was truly nothing there, the anger fizzled out to simple exhaustion.

“Look, we both know you know how I feel about you. And we both know you don’t feel the same way. But you play with my head. You flirt with me just long enough to wrap me around your finger. And then silence. Just like I never existed. That is until your hold on me starts unraveling again. It’s just some big twisted game for you. It’s like when you can’t have my attention, you suddenly want it.”

“It’s no-“

“I’m not done. For once in the history of whatever the fuck this thing with us is, it’s my turn to talk, and your turn to just listen. And I want you to listen good, because this is the only time I’m ever going to say.” I waited for some sign from Harry to let me know he was really paying attention.

He nodded so I continued.

“I can’t keep being a pawn in your torturous game Harry. It’s not fair to me. You’re breaking me apart and you don’t even care. The thing that hurts the most Harry,” I fought the tears for as long as I could, but the alcohol made it nearly impossible “is the fact that I know I could make you so happy. I would do everything in my power to give you the world. Hell, I basically already do. But you’re so blinded by “not wanting to be with me” that you don’t even realize how good I am for you. How good I am to you. If you stop telling yourself you’re not allowed to love me, I guarantee I’d make you fall. But if that’s not what you want. If you really, truly don’t even want to give me a chance, I’m done. I’ll have to walk away before you finish draining what little of me, I have left. And if that’s what it comes to, I’m begging you, please just let me go. No more games.”

Harry just stood and, like he so often did, stared. Blank. I felt like I was frozen in that moment and all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, I could feel myself began to sober up as I stood in anticipation of Harry’s response. I wished like hell I was still drunk, because maybe it would’ve hurt less when Harry finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began backing away back towards the stairs. “I’ll leave you alone.” And with that he spun on his heels and trotted back down to the party.

[writing-in-april]

Dressed in Crimson

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Royalty AU)

Summary: Spencer is a stable boy with a passion for learning and Reader is the princess of the palace that he serves in. They’ve been in a secret relationship, the two grow restless about not being able to be out in the open.

A/N: Guys I’m so excited for this one I really really loved writing it- it’s my fourth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April and it’s also written for @omgbigfluffwriting !!! I kinda immersed myself into this quite a bit- and it’s my longest oneshot I’ve ever written 🤭The specific historical period theyre in is not specified and the world that they’re in is entirely fictional and not based on any specific point in history- if you’ve ever watched Merlin that’s kinda the vibe I was thinking of just without the magic lol (please still ignore that the gif does not have an accurate clothing choice from Spencer I just wanted a good shot of his hair that I thought of while writing this) i feel like it’s becoming so obvious how much I love historical fiction lol 😂 I’d like to hear from you guys also so if you want to drop me an ask here! It can be about anything 🥰 hope y’all enjoy!!!

Warnings: 18+, Reader has a horrible Father, subtle hints about sexism, Classism, Period typical clothing, Reader and Spencer fight for a little bit, Smut, Dom Spencer, Fingering, Handjob, Unprotected Sex, Day dreaming about fucking in public, Spencer’s possessive as hell, Ignoring the potential consequences of a creampie

Main Masterlist Word count: 4.7k

My day started out like any other with my corset made of whalebone being cinched tightly around my figure with my chemise underneath of course. Every time the ends of the laces were pulled taught on my body I thought of the days where I could get away with not having this wretched piece of clothing cutting off my breath. Those days had been so long ago, when I was just a small child, almost so long ago that I had to strain my memory to recall it. It wasn’t even until I was done clutching my mother’s skirts before I started to be forced into the confines of the worst invention in history. I would have rather muck in the mud in pants like the men, unless there was a reason for me to actually want to wear a dress.

Today, I had chosen a crimson colored gown, one of my only favorites. The front of the bodice was adorned with embroidery, one embroidered with a glistening gold thread. The sleeves were long and ever so slightly off my shoulders, ending just at my wrist. It had been perfectly handcrafted just for me, a seamstress being hired to slave away at each detail with precision. If it had been up to my father the seamstress would have been paid little to nothing for this masterpiece, but you had your own coins stashed away from your allowance to give extra to anyone that gave you goods and services.

The dress was my favorite almost solely because of someone else’s appreciation for the lush fabric, no one needed to know about that though. I did like to look nice on certain occasions, but only special ones. There was no special occasion scheduled for me to have a reason for wearing it, well none that the greater majority of the court would know about.

Only my maid Emily knew what my excursion would be today, why I dressed up so nicely. There was no feasible way for me to hide my dalliances from her, especially the one I was about to go to as it required some higher levels of stealth to be able to evade my father’s guards.

His name was Spencer, one of my father’s stable boys. I loved him more than anything, definitely more than any potential match that was arranged for me.

I gifted him whatever I could without raising suspicion, though I often hid my purchases if someone asked by excusing them as more frivolous in nature, such as a new dress. Spencer had no real need for pretty things as he’d said before, except from myself- those were his past words not mine. And, he did express to me how much he loved the dress I was wearing right now, which was tied to how we had first met.

When I first met him I had been looking for a fabric in the market stalls. I hadn’t really wanted to, I was content with all the dresses that I owned right now, they had no ornament on them, just how I preferred. However, my father demanded I get something fancier for some sort of frivolous ball that was coming up that undoubtedly had no reason to take place besides bleeding everyone else dry.

I brushed hands with him for the first time as I was looking for the material I wanted, something just fancy enough to appease my father. The stall filled with fabrics bordered one that had stacks of books, I would have much preferred to be looking at that one. My hand had gotten close to the edge while I was inspecting a fabric and it had bumped into a man who was looking at one of the books.

When I had looked up to see who had brushed my hand I was met with frantic eyes filled with apology. His stuttered apology had covered my attempt to assure him that it was fine, it had taken me grabbing both of his hands to steady him for him to listen to my reassurance.

When he had introduced himself to me after I asked it flowed into a long conversation. I could have talked to him forever, I would be content to never talk to anyone else. For a stable boy he was exceptionally smart, which I learned was from his mother who had made sure he was educated even in poverty, specifically through having him read anything she could get her hands on. From then on our blossoming friendship had flourished, and had eventually developed into more.

I slung a shawl over my shoulders made out of a fabric of similar color to my gown and also grabbed a purse filled with coins with a smile due to my reminiscing . It wasn’t cold enough for one of my velvet cloaks just yet and most of the walk down to where Spencer was housed was indoors.

The walk from my rooms in the main part of the castle to the stables on the lower floor towards the East end was longer than I would have wanted. Truthfully, I wished I would not have to live in a castle at all, I’d rather live in the small house that Spencer lived. It was just past the castle grounds at the edge of the surrounding village adjacent to the stables so he did not have to walk far for work in the mornings.

My feet tiptoed down the corridors carefully, I was lucky that I had figured out to be somewhat light on my feet otherwise I’d be caught swiftly for sure. I passed by the rooms of most of the lords and ladies staying at court, I always wondered why some chose to stay here, it was positively suffocating here. The door I used to go outside was through the kitchen, that had a myriad of breakable things strewn about that I had to stealthily avoid. Luckily, I knocked nothing over that would have woken up the cooks who slept just a room over. Turning the handle of the door had to be a slow process so no one would hear the creak of the knob while it was turned, but I did successfully make it out with no disturbance.

Beginning the stretch of my journey that was outdoors was perhaps the most risky. Guards were stationed around the perimeter of the castle in greater numbers compared to the ones indoors which were only stationed by important rooms. I weaved my way through, in some aspects it was even more confusing than the inside of the castle. Hiding behind each of the pillars was the most effective way to avoid them, the construction of them making a series of small blind spots. I had just snuck behind one of the last ones when one of the guards nearest to me moved forward a little. I stopped breathing immediately, holding it tight in my chest while I plastered myself as close as I could to the back of the pillar. My nails dug into the stone of the pillar in fear, if I was ever to be found sneaking out at night or worse in the presence of Spencer, I would either never leave my rooms again or be whisked away into marriage even earlier than planned.

When the guard did not move to investigate further I let go of the breath I was holding, still making sure to let go of it slowly so he could not hear me. Moving swiftly forward after I had taken a breath was a bit of a challenge, my knees had gone weak with fear. I pushed myself to take each step even with the weakness in my knees, there was no way I could linger any longer.

Finally I was no longer walking on stone, I was walking on the muddy earth now. It was nice to feel the ground under my feet instead of the harsh stone, it told me that I was now only a handful of strides away from Spencer’s home.

The leaves littering the ground mixing with mud crunched under my feet even as I tip toed carefully. The guards may be in the distance now, but I didn’t feel keen on testing how good their hearing may potentially be.

Passing the stables was the last marker for my journey, then I would be able to see his home too. As I passed the sleeping horses by anticipation began to replace the fear inside me. It had been a while since I had been able to come see him, making me yearn for his touch even more.

His home came into view, even in the dead of night I could make it out if I squinted my eyes hard. My pace picked up exponentially when I landed my eyes on his humble abode. It was a quaint home, fallen into disrepair as he could not afford to fix it on the meager salary that my father paid him. The purse of gold that I had brought with me was exactly for that, the repairs. He would most likely protest the gift just like any other thing I had tried to gift him. From my experience the most effective way to get him to accept anything was to leave it there with no conversation about it. I think it made him feel less guilty even though in my opinion he was owed the money in the first place, no one should have to live in squalor when they did their job every day without question or complaint.

When I finally was at the entrance of his home I entered through the door swiftly, too impatient to wait or knock. Stress melted from my shoulders when I caught sight of him, hunched over one of the books I had given him, candles strewn around to give him enough light to read.

The candles he had lit to be able to read in the night illuminated us both with a glow. He would always compliment me whenever we found ourselves in similar lighting such as this, but in my opinion there was no rivalry. Each time the candle flickered it brightened up every highlight of him, letting me see his wild curls, brown eyes deeper than any others I had ever seen, and a body that I had no doubt was crafted to perfection illuminated in a beautiful glow.

I went to compliment him just as he always did with me, but I became mesmerized when he stood up, then moving his way closer to me.

“It is nice to see you, it feels like it’s been an eternity.” It may seem dramatic for him to say that it felt that long, but I echoed his sentiment willingly.

“It is nice to see you too, Spencer. I agree it’s been far too long.” I was sure it had been at least a full moon cycle since we had the pleasure of being alone with one another, our duties to my father keeping us separated.

It had been painful whenever I would go out for a ride on my horse, to see him hand me the reins of my mare and be unable to reach out to touch him. There had been one day, about a week ago, that I had let my hand brush against his own for a moment while he handed the reins to me. It was an innocent brush of a touch, that also had a barrier in the form of my leather gloves. To anyone else it had meant nothing, but to me and him, it meant everything.

His eyes were blown wide with desire, as I suspected mine were as well. We let ourselves take in the sight of each other for a minute longer before Spencer broke the silence with a request,

“Drop your shawl, so I may see you better.” A stable hand commanding someone of such a stature such as I would’ve seen him whipped if it was any other person before him. His boldness was not unexpected, it had taken a while for him to grow so comfortable with my company. In truth, he had been quite scared when I had first met him. It was perfectly understandable considering his employer was my father, who was not known for his kindness. And, even then after his fear had faded he still had a shy exterior for a while, it only had been lifted when we began to become extremely comfortable around each other. We were each other's only form of solace in this world, we could only escape our reality when we were together.

Instead of having malice in my voice like other nobles would I simply pulled the shawl more taught around my shoulders and teased, “Why should I?”

The expression on his face was one of the ones I loved seeing on his face the most, a sly smirk. He came closer to me, with careful steps as if he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. We were so close together when he stopped moving, but still not touching. He was playing a game with me, not touching until I obliged him. As he leaned in to speak into the shell of my ear he was careful with the way he tilted his body forward so I could only feel his breath on the small portion of my skin, “Because you like it when I look at you.”

My arms fell to my sides releasing my shawl to fall from my shoulders onto the floor at his words, as they rang true. I did want him to look at me and also, of course touch me.

“You wore your favorite dress.” He observed, still not quite touching. I didn't need to answer the statement he made with the thought in my mind ‘I wore it for you’ because I knew he had already figured that out. His observational skills were keenly honed in by his constant reading whenever he had the chance, often reading books that I had gifted to him. He even sometimes read well into the night, straining his eyes in the darkness when the candle was almost merely a wick. I had found that out the first- and sadly, only time I had the opportunity to stay overnight. Since then I had pushed him to get more rest as I knew how hard he was worked to the bone during the day, courtesy of my father.

His eyes were staring at my dress, pupils blown wide, his mind seemingly off in another world maybe thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me.

“Please, touch me.” I didn’t need to speak loud, only a soft whisper for him to hear me because of how close he already was to me. So close, yet so far.

He raised his large hands, calloused from working so hard day in and day out. My own hands were soft from the expensive creams I had been pampered with since I was just a small child. I liked his hands better, they showed the hard work he used everyday to cultivate his beautiful mind and body.

I subtly licked my lips in anticipation of his touch, wanting to feel every inch of his hand roaming my body, from the tips of his fingers to where his palm met his wrist.

His fingers then started to trace over the top of my corset, just a hair away from touching the swell of my breasts. My chest was rising and falling with each breath, each inhale pushing it slightly closer to his fingers. With each fall of my chest I felt the need to quickly let go of my breath, so I could once again inhale and be brought closer to his touch.

“Please touch me.” I repeated, breathless from forcing myself to breathe into his touch.

“I am touching you.” His fingers still did not move to touch my skin, only the crimson accented in gold. It was his turn to tease me now, I was at his mercy, ready and waiting for it.

I could beg again, though quite obviously I could not convince him with it. As he was running his fingers over the cloth for what felt like the millionth time, still not touching me, I teased him back instead of begging, “No you are touching my dress.”

A mere ghost of a touch from his fingers then floated across my skin. What should have calmed my heaving chest from my gasping breaths only served to make my breathing even heavier. The slight touch was still not enough, only making my desire for his hands to roam every inch of my body even more severe.

“Perhaps I should take your corset off, to help you breathe better.” He said, as if he read my exact thoughts.

“I like your thinking.”

I was then spun around so my back was pressed into his chest. It soothes my desire for his touch some, but we both had barriers of cloth preventing me from fully feeling him. I could feel some of the warmth that was hidden underneath his shirt, which was made up of a much billowing white linen that compared to his trousers.

If my skirts were not so large I wondered if I were to push back if my behind would come in contact with his cock and whether or not his desire would be as prominent as the slickness dampening the bottom layer I was wearing. I’d have to find a way to find a pair of trousers then, sometime soon, so I could try to grind into him at a later date. There was no doubt that we’d surely find ourselves in a similar position again.

As his hands started to undo the laces of my corset with care, despite both of our desperation, a thought slipped out from his lips that I’m sure he intended to keep to himself, “I wish I could call you mine in public.”

“My father would kill you!” The taste of my voice would have been bitter in anyone’s mouth, quickly spat out in the same way I said those words. Perhaps my quick anger to his innocent thought would be insane to some, most would probably consider it a sweet thought. However, he knew from previous conversations that when those sweet thoughts were expressed that all I could feel was a heavy sadness sitting inside me, instead of desire.

Tears clouded my vision, so much so that I did not see Spencer’s arms come around me to envelop me in an embrace. I flinched a bit at first, but then melted when I realized it was him. We held each other for a while as I sobbed softly into his billowy white shirt.

He stroked my shoulder with his large hands that I loved, but the corset he had not taken off fully yet was blocking me from feeling his touch the way I wanted.

“Take it off please.” I begged softly, I wanted to feel his skin on mine, and not just his lips or his hands. I wanted to feel every inch of him.

The laces of my corset were already half undone because of his previous attempt at getting it off of me. He finished the job, pulling the corset off of my body, tossing it down to the floor. He may have loved the dress, but he was showing me through his actions that he loved what was underneath more.

Turning me around was his next step, so he could properly kiss me. The pressure was soft at first, as if he was testing the waters to see how I would feel. Feeling his soft lips on my own just made me want to pull him in further, and I did so. My fingers tangled into his curls as the kiss devolved into pure passion, we were both throwing ourselves fully into it, trying to express our feelings nonverbally.

His own hands moved to cup my breasts as he backed me into the cot he slept on every night. I did not let him push me down on the bed so he was on top of me like normal, this time I wanted to be on top for a while. When I straddled his hips the first thing I felt was his cock straining in his pants. I unbuckled them so I could wrap my hands around his cock, I wanted to feel his thick and heavy length in my hands. Precum was already dripping down his hard cock as I pumped his length with my hands. My own arousal was dampening the underneath of the skirt I still had on. Spencer confirmed it himself when he snuck his fingers underneath the fabric to play with my pleasure spots. We both groaned as his fingers entered inside me while he rubbed circles into my swollen pearl.

My skirt was bunched up in his hands, pulling up all the way to the tops of my thighs. He soon got fed up with the skirt being in the way though and maneuvered me to shuck it off of me as fast as possible. Being bare before him did not make me wither in self consciousness, it made me lean into his touch even more.

He leaned up to kiss me again while I grabbed his length and restraddled him. I was definitely wet enough to have him enter me, my separation from him making me desperate, it had been so long since we had the chance to be together like this.

I then sunk down on his length slowly, it was for me to adjust to his size and to relish in the feeling of him sliding inside me. I stilled on top of him as the back of my thighs hit the top of his, he filled me with perfection. Spencer only let me be still for a little while before his hands gripped my hips and started to guide me to roll my hips. The pace I set- well Spencer was the one who set it, was slow and deep, I was languidly rolling my hips while he thrusted up into me at a similar pace.

My face twisted in pleasure as his thrusts became more powerful, still at the same pace but with more force behind them.

“Fuck- I want everyone to know that you’re mine!” It was the exact same thing he had spoken to me earlier that had sparked anger and melancholy inside me. This time it caused a spark of pleasure instead, making me think about him fucking me in front of everyone claiming me as his.

“My father would kill you.” This time when I said it it was gasped into his mouth with little to all anger disappeared from it.

My words made Spencer growl which was swallowed by a possessive kiss. He then flipped me over roughly, my back now pressed into the cot. A high pitched squeak had escaped my lips unintentionally in surprise, it was quickly changed into a moan when he entered me again. This time the pace did not start off slow as I did not need to adjust to him inside of me.

“I don’t care.” His speech was agitated as he pounded into me, holding my legs open with both hands spreading me out for him to see everything, “No matter what anyone says or does, you’re mine.”

Pleasure sparked through me at his possessive words, I grabbed desperately at the cotton sheets trying to hold onto something as my finish was fast approaching. When the cotton sheets were not enough of a stabilizer for me I lifted my hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him close.

“Come on I know you’re close, I’m close too baby.” My nails dug into his neck and back during the latter half of his sentence causing him to slightly wince. I knew he enjoyed it though because of the question that he groaned out next, “Can I cum inside you?”

Biting my lip hard was painful as I nodded my head in response to his question that had me falling over the edge. The consequences of him finishing inside me danced in the back of my head, I chose to ignore them as he did. I did not care as he filled me and I rode out my release, even if I was to somehow get pregnant because of our recklessness it did not matter. I’d gladly have his child, even if it meant I’d have to go on the run.

Instead of falling on top of me directly after finishing like I’ve heard most men do with their wives he gently removed himself from my entrance and laid down beside me on the cot. Bliss was mingling in the air between us, both unburdened by any of our problems that would become a reality as soon as I left for the night. For now we would just hold onto the bliss until it was cruelly snatched away from reality.

Spencer had a solution as always to our problems, and seemed to be thinking about the same thing I was with his next suggestion,

“Run away with me.” We were both covered in sweat that had cropped up from our activities, a contrast to the chilly air outside and in the castle. It was nice to feel warm every time I was in his arms, It was hard to resist being greedy and deciding to stay in his arms forever. It had crossed my mind more than once, but there was always something stopping me from going through with it fully. I opened my mouth to point out all the reasons why that would not be possible when he added, “And, before you say no I want to ask- what’s stopping you?”

His reasoning was sound, as it often was. My mouth opened and closed, struggling to find a reasoning before I accepted that he was right. The only potential downfall was my father’s forces searching everywhere to find me, but it would be worth it. We could also easily cross the border into nearby lands ruled by someone else that was not in alliance with him. I already felt lighter thinking about being free from the confines of the castle- and hopefully my corset. Though I would have to keep the crimson dress I wore today, even if I only wore it around him, It was his favorite and it symbolized the day that we met. He glanced over at me just as I did the same, looking right into his eyes as I spoke,“Alright.”

The light that sparked in his eyes made my heart soar, I could feel just from his gaze how ecstatic he was to spend his life with me. I didn’t need any words to know how much he loved me.

We basked for a moment in the presence of our love, Spencer broke the silence again when he started planning,“You need to go pack!”

I moved myself to sit up even though my limbs protested, wanting to sleep after our post coital bliss. A soft smile was exchanged between the two of us, “I’ll pack light, only the stuff I need.”

The purse of gold I had brought for him would no longer be used to fund his repairs, but to fund our life together. I climbed on top of him again leaning forward to capture him in a kiss that was much more chaste than the ones earlier in the night.

“I. love. you.” He whispered in between kisses making my eyes wet with tears. They weren’t born out of sadness, but of happiness that I had someone to love me as much as Spencer did.

“I love you too, I will see you soon.” I pulled myself away from his lips even though I did not want to, I then got up to leave reluctantly. Though it was easier than previous departures as I knew that it would be the last one that I would have to complete. My whole being was lighter and happier than I had ever felt before as I snuck back with a spring in my step. The only hint of what I was about to do, where I was about to go, was the mud stained at the hemline of my crimson dress.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (why wont tumblr let me tag you😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb @jakobsdump

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

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

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

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

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[tryingmybestpls]

From the Dining Table

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam decided to visit the Reader and her daughter in the months following Steve’s death.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T

Warnings: a child, mentions of infertility, mentions of a miscarriage, talks of pregnancy, mentions of loss, death, feelings of loneliness, depression, grief

Y/N looked exhausted.

Sam watched from his seat at the kitchen island as she bounced the crying infant in her arms, trying to soothe little Sarah Rogers. The bundle of pink was screaming her, upset at everyone and everything. Y/N smiled at him apologetically, holding her child with one arm while the other went to work grabbing a bottle from the fridge.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I wasn't her favorite parent." Y/N tells Sam, only joking slightly as she pops the lid off the bottle with one hand. She cradles her daughter carefully before giving her the bottle, silencing her cries. A smile stretches across her face, happy that her child's cries had stopped.

Y/N had been dealt a bad hand by the universe.

Steve and Y/N had tried for years to have a baby. Both of them had desperately wanted a family, wanted some slice of normalcy in their lives. At first, in that first year they were married, it had been fun, playing that guessing game each month. They weren't seriously trying then, just letting whatever happen to happen. Then as one year turned into two, they got a little more serious about the whole thing. Both of them did everything they needed to do-they got tested to make sure everything was working right, did everything the doctor told them to do. Dozens of false positive pregnancy tests had plagued them in those first two years, constantly getting their hopes up old to rip that all away. Trying in the third year was halted by the Sokovia Accords and the team fighting each other. Y/N and Steve both thought it would be a bad idea to try to have a child while they were on the run, so they stopped their efforts. The fourth year had brought heartbreak when Y/N had actually gotten pregnant for the first time, but lost the baby before she was twelve weeks along. They tried a few times in the fifth year, months after Thanos had snapped his fingers and wiped out half of the galaxy. It had felt wrong though, to be trying to bring life into the universe when so much loss had just occurred. In the span of the five years that everyone was gone, Y/N had been told she was infertile. She just had to grin and bear it, helping Pepper and Tony take care of Morgan whenever they asked. Steve and her just sort of gave up, not wanting to deal with all of the heartache for the rest of their lives.

It was towards the end of their ninth year of marriage, their ninth year of trying to have a baby, someone smiled down upon them. As an early Christmas gift, Steve and Y/N received a positive pregnancy test. They were incredibly cautious, doing everything to the 'T' to make sure that they child would be okay. And in August, Y/N gave birth to a beautiful baby girl- Sarah Rose Rogers, named Sarah after Steve's mother. Things were great until October, when they had to fight against Thanos one last time to make things right and Steve decided he would much rather go back in time to be with Peggy, coming back an elderly man.

He died a few months later, right after his daughter turned five months old.

"How are you doing?" Sam asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the hungry child. Y/N sighed softly, looking up. She had deep dark circles under her eyes, clearly showing that she hadn't been getting much sleep. Her cheeks didn't look as full, making Sam wonder if she wasn't eating.

"I'm surviving. It's definitely difficult, trying to balance everything." Y/N replies, her eyes glancing back down at her daughter, "It's-Everything is all new to me. Most of the time I think I'm doing everything wrong."

"When was the last time you slept?" He questions, shifting on the bar stool. Sam felt guilty. Steve had asked both him and Bucky to look after his wife and child, to make sure that they were doing okay without him. Sam hadn't. He had other things to deal with-such as trying to readjust to this new world and talking to his family-so checking on Y/N had slipped his mind. Yet as he looks at her, taking in every little detail, Sam knows that he should've been calling her more, should've talked to her more.

"I can't sleep." She answers honestly, leaving out the 'without him' that was sitting on the tip of her tongue. Y/N had been so used to sleeping next to Steve that she had found it almost impossible to sleep without him. She fights the urge to yawn as she continues, "Besides, it gives me time to take care of things around the house. There's always a ton of laundry to do and I have work -"

"Woah woah hold on, you're supposed to be on leave, Y/N." Sam announces, raising an eyebrow at her. Y/N continues to feed her daughter as she glances up at him, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I'm not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, Sammy. I-I need to keep myself busy." Y/N replies, her voice wavering. She withholds the words that want to follow. I don't want to think about him. Sam turns his head, his eyes landing on a box sitting in the table that sat in the kitchen. A layer had dust had gathered on top of it. It probably hasn't been touched since it had been placed on top of the table. Written across the side of the box in black ink was PICTURES + RIBBON BANNERS. Things from the funeral, he realizes, left in the box to collect dust.

"Are you going to therapy? Like we talked about?" Sam questions, his voice a lot softer, like he's talking to a child. Y/N's shoulders seemed to slump and her mood starts to sour. She looks down at her daughter, who is blissfully unaware of what's happening around her. When Sam asked if he could come over, she should have assumed that he was going to act like this but she didn't. Y/N had thought he was just coming over to visit, but then again that should've raised some alarm. Like everyone else after Steve was put in the ground, Sam had left to live his life. Y/N had to struggle with being a new mother and living without Steve all by herself. No one offered their help or checked in to see how she was doing. The only one who she talked to was Rhodey, but that's because they worked together.

"You thought about him didn't you? That's why you're here. Something reminded you of him and then you thought of me." Y/N replies, the emotions leaving her voice, "Because if you did care, you would've called or texted or something."

"Y/N-" He starts, but Y/N quickly cuts him off, pulling the now empty bottle away from her daughter's mouth. Sarah looks up at her mother, her little hands rubbing at her eyes. The baby shifted in her mother's arms, trying to get comfortable. Y/N carefully puts the bottle into the sink.

"No, no don't try to tell me that you came here on your own volition, Sam. You don't text me, you don't call, you don't try to talk to me for a few months and all of a sudden you want to drop in?" Y/N sighs, shaking her head, "I-I appreciate you coming here, I really do, but don't waltz in here suddenly concerned over me."

They stay silent for a moment. Sam knew she was right. He had kept himself busy and as the days passed by, Y/N and what she might be going through slipped from his mind. It wasn't until last week when he was asked by someone about how Y/N was doing. He knows that he should've been making sure she was okay. Y/N had been one of his closest friends before Thanos snapped his fingers. He had watched her and Steve's relationship blossom and bloom. Hell, he had been Steve's best man at their wedding. He should have been right there for Y/N, should have been her shoulder to cry on after Steve had been buried, should have helped her take care of Sarah, but he hadn't. He had decided to run away, leaving her behind, leaving her to reassemble the shattered pieces of her life by herself. Sam had gotten to move on with his life. Y/N couldn’t.

"I'm sorry. I know that should've called and made contact after the funeral. I know that I should've come by. I just..." Sam sighs, his eyes focused on her, "I didn't know what to say to you. I wanted to help, wanted to console you, but I-I just couldn't. I didn't know how to tell you that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know if it was going to be okay."

Y/N doesn't respond. Instead of looking at Sam, she casts her eyes on Sarah. The child yawns, stretching in her mother's arms. Sarah had her mother's eyes, but had her father's blonde hair. It shined softly in the light as the baby curled up against her mother. Sarah was all Y/N had left of Steve, her last reminder of how much she loved him. But as she looked at her sleepy daughter, she felt that familiar pang of heartache, the same one she would get every time she looked at Sarah because she was reminded that Steve had abandoned this sweet little baby, had abandoned Y/N to make a family with someone else, someone who probably didn't have to try for years to have a baby with him. Y/N wanted to direct all her anger towards Steve, but she had started to think about what things she might’ve done wrong, even though Y/N knew that there was nothing she could have changed to make Steve stay. He was the one who made that choice, he was the one who decided to leave, so he should be the one she was mad at, not herself.

"I-I've been doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I go to therapy. I take my pills. I started working again so I have some sort of normalcy. I make sure Sarah is okay, I try to be the best mom I can be for her. I do everything I am supposed to do and still-I still feel bad. I feel so fucking bad all the time, Sammy." She suddenly announces, tears starting to pool in her eyes. Sam can feel his heart splinter in his chest as she continues, "I just-I don't understand why he left. He-He told me that he loved me every day and that he loved Sarah and I just....Why would he leave us?"

Sam didn't know how to respond to any of that. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know why Steve would leave his family. The whole situation confused him as well and left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man who he had thought Steve was, that man wouldn't have just up and abandon his wife and infant daughter. No, that man would happy, over the fucking moon that he had a family. The Steve Sam knew wouldn't have left behind his wife and child to make a family with someone else, with someone who already lived a good life. Sam didn't understand what could have happened in those five years that would make Steve do that.

Instead of saying anything, he stood up and walked around the island. Sam carefully pulled her into his arms, making sure sweet little Sarah didn't get squished in between them. The infant looked up at him, probably wondering who the hell he was. Sam held the two of them in his arms as Y/N cried, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Her child rested in her arms, completely unaware of what was going on.

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

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That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

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Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”