#i should know better than to look at replies

[wheeloffortune-design]

I guess you're unlucky because I just happened to glance at the comments on this post a year and a half after posting it. And your comment was near the top. So, graciously,

fuck you.

Telling someone that the way they reacted to empty platitudes the day their father died is 'kind of being a dick' is more than being rude, it's being cruel.

The whole post was about how, for one day, I decided to not entertain someone else's fantasy. For one day, I did not smile, placate, kept silent. That day was not about them, it was about me, my siblings, my step mother. That day, no one else's feelings mattered to me. I gave myself the right to be unpleasant while my father was dying down the hall.

It's incredibly hard to find something to say to someone when they're grieving. I've been on that side too. You can appreciate the thoughts and prayers, but nothing forces you to play along.

So I told my aunts that they could stop telling me about heaven, about how I would see him again someday, because I didn't believe that. I told that other family friend she could stop trying to give me her crystals because I didn't believe in that either.

The post I wrote a year and a half ago is about how they reacted badly to me rejecting their words. It was never about me, I don't regret what I said. It was about their reaction.

And here you call me a dick, for refusing to placate them on the worst day of my life.

I'm replying to this message not for you, but for the same reason I wrote the original post in the first place. Not knowing it would resonate with so many people, I just wanted to share my experience because I'd never heard anyone else speak of it. Maybe it could help someone, or make them feel less alone in this horrible feeling. I am lucky, it seemed to have helped several people.

If you are grieving, or when you will grieve, because we're all doomed to know grief, here are the things I learned, from that worst day of my life, and the 879 days since:

there is no good or bad way to live this pain. there is no correct way. you do whatever you can, however you want, to deal with this.

there is nothing good about this situation. don't look for the silver lining. accept that it's horrible. don't try to change this feeling into something it isn't because you feel like there should be a good side to this. there isn't. you loved them, and they're gone. it hurts.

it will get better, slowly, very slowly. you just need to make it through. but it will always hurt, at the strangest moments. the tears, years later, will be as true as the tears from the first day. this will be a relief.

and this is the whole point of the original post: if and when you lose someone close to you, you need to focus on your own pain, and not placate the other people, the ones who don't hurt as much as you do. it's not about them, it's about you. when the funeral comes, don't spend your energy in niceties, in small talk. don't make it a show for other people. take that time to get your closure. protect jealously your grief. it's your time, it's not a presentation.

The day of the funeral, a cousin talked to me about ancient Egypt, trying to cheer me up with a subject he knows I love. He started telling me about how the pyramids were built by ancient aliens, he'd seen something on youtube about it. I stopped him, told him I didn't believe in that. He was disappointed, but his disappointed was not my problem.

Tell me, should I have changed myself and nodded at his ludicrous conspiracy theory? Should I have accepted my aunt's crystal beads because they were supposed to give me strength? Then why should I have accepted something that, for me, is as completely false as ancient aliens and crystal beads?

Every other day, you need to meet people halfway. The day your father died, then his funeral? fuck that. their feelings are not your problem. don't let them make their feelings your problem.

grief fucking sucks, and this is me giving you permission to not make yourself smaller for other people when your loved ones die.

it's been a year so i feel more comfortable talking about it..

when you're atheist and you lose someone, religious people don't really know how to interact with you. it's fine, we have different worldviews.

'He's in a better place, now.'

Sorry auntie, but I don't believe that. I believe that his brain stopped working at 5h55pm on december 11th 2022, and that's it. Nothing after that.

It makes grief very difficult, because not believing in god or the afterlife also means accepting that you will never, ever see that person again. That's it. The end. Nada mas.

But, back to the aunties and other faceless people gravitating in the grey blurry waters of your awareness.

They tell you 'He's with god now' and you tell them 'Yeah I don't believe that' and.

they. get. annoyed.

Here I am, gutted open, the worst day of my life, barely holding myself together, and they! Get annoyed that I won't smile and entertain their point of view!

Another faceless person tried to heal me with cristals. She also got annoyed when I told her I didn't believe in that.

I usually don't really mind religious people. It's fine, we have different worldviews. I think I'm right but so do they. As long as they're good people, I don't judge them for their faith.

I'll even be grateful for them trying to console me. I get that you're trying to give me strength and love. Thank you.

But I'm going to be true to myself, yes even when I'm mad with shock and grief. And I still can't believe they got annoyed that I didn't play along to placate them, on the worst day of my life.

(I wanted to share because I've never heard anyone talk about atheism and grief, and the loneliness that comes out of it.)

[rkivefae]

(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

[universefcb]

ANATOMICAL PIZZA LOVE, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: You're home alone and decide to make pizza! But Pau had never made it before.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: To ease the pain of losing the final yesterday... And forgive me for my inactivity! I promise to come back with a calendar full of fics!

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

She left the bag of flour on the counter as she looked at Pau. His parents had gone out for dinner—a rare romantic date on a Saturday night. His sister, Irene, had texted him that she was going to sleep over at her boyfriend’s house. It was just you and Pau in the house now. A house that had always had people, noise, some pot on the stove. Now it was full of silence.

“Do you really want to make pizza?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, his hair messy as if he had taken a shower in a hurry.

“Better than asking. And it’s all here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’ve never made real pizza.”

You gave a half smile and threw the flour onto the counter with more confidence than you actually felt.

“Then let’s do it together.”

Pau raised an eyebrow, but smiled back. He picked up his apron—the one his mother sometimes wore, with a bell pepper pattern—and tossed another one to you.

The atmosphere was light, with that good tension of their relationship, which was just beginning.

“Heart or round?” you asked, as you rolled out the dough.

“Sweetheart, sure. Let’s make it the cheesiest tradition possible,” he replied without hesitation, leaning his hip against the counter next to her. “We deserve it.”

You laughed, and he looked. That way. A second longer than necessary. A look that made him embarrassed, turning his head away with a slight blush on his face.

He approached you from behind while you were still rolling out the dough and wrapped his arms around you in a light hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a moment, breathing the same air.

“You smell like flour and apple shampoo,” he muttered, before letting out a small chuckle.

“It’s an irresistible combo,” you replied, feigning pride, and he pressed your body lightly against his before letting go.

You cut the ingredients, he assembled them. You bumped into each other all the time. Every touch seemed to last a little longer. Every excuse to help became another reason to stay close. Sometimes your eyes met by accident. Other times, on purpose. He smiled at the corner of your mouth, and you looked away, but the smile remained.

“It’s crooked,” he said, looking at his pizza.

“Yours too. It looks like a liver.”

He laughed. That short, sincere laugh that he only gave when he forgot to control himself. And his heart filled with love.

“We should patent this. Anatomical pizza of love.”

You laughed too, trying to hide the heat rising in your face.

When the oven finally dinged, the kitchen was warm, smelling good, and full of shards of conversation. Pau grabbed a towel and theatrically waved it at his face, sweating slightly. You threw an olive at him, and he pretended to be offended.

“We’re good,” he said, sharing a slice of the prettiest, or least ugly, pizza.

“We make a good pair,” you added without thinking. When you realized what you had said, you looked at him quickly.

Pau was already looking.

And he didn't deviate.

Silence fell, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full. Almost electric.

“You know I like being with you, right?” he said quietly. As if he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

You swallowed hard. And nodded.

“I like being with you too.”

He approached. Slowly, without rushing. His hand touched hers, and stayed there. A simple touch, but direct.

“This here”—he pointed to the messy kitchen, the half-eaten pizza, the low music playing in the background—“could be our routine, you know?”

You smiled. Not the shy kind. The knowing kind.

“It is, right?”

Pau moved closer, his eyes on yours. His forehead almost touching yours. His breath mingling with yours. He brought one of his hands to your face, his fingers sliding lightly across your cheek.

“So can I kiss you now?”

You didn't answer. You just pulled his apron and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was calm, warm, with the taste of tomatoes and something new. His hands found your back, pulling you closer. One hand on your waist, the other still on your face. You laughed in the middle of the kiss, awkwardly, and kissed again. Because it was easy. Because it was right. Because it was already you.

When your lips parted, he still had his eyes closed, as if he wanted to prolong that moment a little longer. You rested your forehead against his, feeling your heart beat fast and calm at the same time.

“That was the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes shining.

“It wasn’t even a full dinner.”

“So we can do it again, right? Tomorrow. And the day after.”

“And then,” you repeated, like a small, whole promise.

He pulled you closer, again, and this time it wasn't a kiss, but a hug. Tight. Warm. Smelling of baked dough and his expensive perfume.

" I love you"

“I love you too, Barsí”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[v-killallspiders]

HEIR TO THE STARS

Mark Grayson x Kryptonian!Reader

CHAPTER TWO: TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

It had been three hours since Omni-Man had left the planet. It had been three hours since Mark Grayson’s battered, bruised body was recovered from the side of the mountain he had been abandoned on. It had been one hour since Mark Grayson had left surgery. 

You had been standing outside Mark’s hospital room for one hour. You weren't sure why. You didn’t know Mark and Mark sure as hell didn’t even know you existed - probably still wasn’t aware of your existence after your three second interaction a few hours ago. You were probably the last thing on his mind at that moment with his father tearing the city apart in a fury. 

You were broken out of your stupor by the sound of the door softly opening and closing, Debbie Grayson momentarily leaving her son’s bedside. Debbie looked confused for a beat before recognition dawned on her, “You.. you tried to save him. Tried to save my boy.”

You said nothing for a moment, simply taking in the older woman’s features. Mark was definitely her son, from those soft eyes to the curve of his mouth.

“I did,” you stated simply, giving her a small nod, your hand flexing slightly in the cast you had been given, “I should’ve done better. For him, for you, for everybody else.”

Debbie’s features softened, this was a girl the same age as her boy, her sweet boy. A girl who could’ve been her daughter, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Carrying some sort of misguided guilt because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough to protect people from her husband. Debbie had to hold back the sob she so desperately wanted to let out. Instead she held strong, both for her and the young girl in front of her. Debbie took small, cautious steps towards you, as if approaching an injured animal.

“You tried, that’s all that matters and all that should matter,” Debbie murmured, hands rubbing softly up and down your arms. She nodded towards the room, “Go, I think he’d want to meet you.”

You said nothing as you looked into Debbie’s kind eyes, trying to find any sort of lie or hesitation in there, any sign that she would rather you leave. You found nothing, just pure, unwavering honesty and softness.

You hesitated before backing away from Debbie and making your way towards the room. Using your uninjured arm, you slowly pull the handle down to open the door. The sight that greets you inside is gut-wrenching. Mark looked so small laying in that bed. Smaller than you had ever seen before with his usually large presence and unwavering grin. His face was a patchwork mess of bruises, you couldn’t even see his one eye properly with how swollen and purple it was. 

You clench your jaw. This was your fault. If you’d have been smarter, stronger, faster- you could’ve beat Omni-Man. Could’ve saved Mark, could’ve saved all those other people in Chicago. If you’d have just been what Cecil had actually raised you to be, not this pathetic mess-

“You’re that girl..?” he whispers quietly, his voice raspy from unuse. You immediately try to leave the room, not prepared to actually talk to Mark after spending so many months watching over his shoulder like a guardian angel.

“Wait!,” Mark exclaims, trying to get up from the bed, grunting from the pain, “Don’t go, please.”

You freeze, hand firm on the door handle, prepared to flee at any point, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N,” you reply softly, turning around to face Mark head on, for the first time ever.

“You’ve always been there haven’t you?” Mark asks, not accusing but not quite questioning either, “Always been over my shoulder, watching? Waiting?”

“You saw me?” You asked, completely avoiding his main question, eyes trying to look everywhere but at him.

“No, but I could always feel you. It was driving me crazy,” he murmurs, upper body flopping back onto the bed now that he knew you weren’t about to run off.

You didn’t say anything, simply moved to sit in the chair by his bedside.

“Why,” he asked, shutting his eyes as he leaned back into his pillows.

“Cecil was… concerned,” you paused, trying to find the right words to say that wouldn’t paint your father as a paranoid freak. Not that it would be an incorrect assumption to make.

Mark barks out a dry laugh, his jaw clenching, “Cecil wanted you to make sure I didn’t step out of line, huh?”

“Mark…” you sighed, “It’s not like that.”

Yes it was. Cecil didn’t have a full contingency for Omni-Man so he’d be damned if he had nothing for the older alien’s kid son. Although, you weren’t privy to the full details as to what Cecil had planned, which was frustrating in itself.

“Dont! Don’t sit there and lie to me please…” Mark snapped, before exhaling deeply, “Would you have ever come to me - if my dad didn’t decide to rearrange my entire fucking face?”

You flinch at his tone, “I don’t- I don’t know, Mark.”

Mark just nods in defeated silence, refusing to look at you.

“I’m Mark Grayson, what’s your name?” He suddenly blurts out, finally making eye contact with you, a slight twinkle in his eyes - a far cry from the defeated look he had mere moments ago.

You stare at him unblinking before a soft smile breaks out on your face, “I’m Y/N Stedman, let’s be friends?”

[morganbritton132]

Eddie wants to know why Steve has a dog.

He wishes he didn’t want to know because it doesn’t matter, because it makes him feel like - “An asshole? You’re being an asshole.”

“I can fire you, Jeff.”

“Uh, no you can’t,” Jeff shrugs. “I work at the Subway. You don’t employee me. and it’s none of your business.”

“I know it’s not of my business but…”

Steve doesn’t seem much different than what Eddie remembers of high school. Maybe a little slower, a little air-headed and easily distracted but people have been calling Steve dumb since Eddie’s known about him. So that might be normal?

But there’s the dog. Theres the former band geek and the joint resume, and all this other stuff that makes no sense, and shouldn’t matter, and yet…Eddie can’t stop thinking about it.

He gets radioed out to the floor where a customer is complaining about one of the cashiers. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or not that it’s the Robin/Steve cashier/bagger duo.

They’re either no problem at all or all the problems so, “What’s the issue?”

“There is no issue,” Robin says. “I simply told Mrs. Carter if she has an issue with how we bag her groceries than she can do it herself. And maybe if she has a problem with people using a disability aid then she should go k-“

“Robin,” Steve warns with an incredulous look.

Robin rolls her eyes.

Eddie smooths it over, gets Mrs Carter to a different register and assured her that their cleaning policy compensates for dog hair. He even suggests as politely as he can if the sight of a service animal continues to be a cause of concern, she should try their sister store the next town over.

He takes a deep breath and goes back over to Steve and Robin to remind them (and god does he hate every time he has to say this) not to antagonize their customers.

Except he doesn’t do that. He asks the questions that’s been on his mind since these two started working here, “Why do you have a service dog?”

“You literally cannot ask someone that, asshole,” Robin replies. “Steve, bite him.”

“I’m not going to bite someone, Robin.”

“Not you,” She says to Human Steve. “The better Steve.”

“His name is not Steve!”

Eddie graduates, finds himself a shitty job that he keeps getting promoted at, and now he’s the manager.

That’s how he found himself wearing a tie, sitting across Goddamn Dave, the district manager, being told that he has to hire one of his friend’s kids, “And the kid’s friend, they’re a pair apparently.”

Which…what is this? Chain store nepotism? It’s bullshit.

“The kid’s not all there, head injury,” Goddamn Dave tells him. “Go easy on him.”

Then it turns out the kid isn’t even a teenager looking for a summer job. It’s twenty-something Steve Harrington from high school??? With a dog. And a lesbian.

“Service dog,” Steve says when he sees Eddie looking at it. “A dog with a job.”

“More of a hobby,” his friend - Robin, Eddie recognizes her - says. “He doesn’t get paid. His name is Steve.”

“His name is NOT Steve,” Steve - human - scoffed. “His birth name was Steve. He changed it.”

“They’re twins.”

Eddie does not roll his eyes into oblivion because he’s a goddamn professional. He just rolls them to the back of his head where Gene Simmons reminds him that if he wants to rock and roll all night, he needs to be employed.

He informs them of their shift schedules and barely gets through Steve’s when Robin says, “We have to work the same shifts. It was on our resume.”

Steve adds, “Also, we need to leave early today.”

Eddie thinks, goddamn Dave.

[backtothefanfiction]

No One Like You | Manny Alvarez Imagine

Summary: He always just wanted to be a good soldier and survive… until he met you.

Warnings: 16+, show typical violence, angst, fluff, reader insert, complicated relationship, a little trauma, spoilers for Season 2 Episode 2 if you still haven’t watched it

Word Count: 3.3k+

A/N: I’m still not fully sure I’m happy with where I’ve ended this but I wanted to keep the ending ambiguous. Do they stay together? Don’t they? Maybe one day I’ll decide and write more but for now, that’s entirely up to you.

Be a good soldier. Follow orders. Be a part of the team- and you might just survive. Those were the only things that had been drilled into his head since this all started. And it was going well for him too. The only thing that ever made him contemplate straying from those three easy steps was you.

You were a great shot, easy on eyes (even in your 3 day old uniform all dirty and sweaty from hunting down infected) and you always had his back.

His heart rate would always pick up when he found you were out on rotation with each other. He should have reported it to his superiors. Told them he struggled to look out for the whole team evenly when you were around. That it made him a liability. But he didn’t.

It was just a crush, nothing serious. It’d pass within a month, he told himself. But it didn’t.

“Yo Manny?” You said getting his attention, “You okay there?” You asked. He had been staring off into space again.

You were both on break, taking a moment to chill out on the top floor of the training building.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said coldly, trying to get you off his back. You knew it was an act. The ‘I’m a tough guy, I don’t have feelings’ act. But you knew there was more to him than that. Seen the few times he’d hesitated on mission. Seen the way he stared at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he affirmed, but you knew from the way he shuffled in his seat there was something eating away at him.

“Okay then,” you sassed him lightly as you moved your attention back out to the view, but you could sense him bristling out the corner of your eye- he was clearly stewing about something.

“Do you ever question it?” he suddenly asked, his voice low so no one else would hear you, but the only other Fireflies that were up here were way on the other side of the room to you both.

“What?” You asked, turning to him intrigued.

“All this,” he said, faintly gesturing to your surroundings and the other people in the room. “What we do?”

“Having second thoughts about what side you chose?” You asked him.

“No!” he said adamantly. “I just…” his voice faltered as he struggled to put his thoughts into the world. “I know this is better than being in the QZ,” he said.

“But?” You asked him, dragging out the word as you encouraged him to continue.

“What if there’s another way of living? Away from all this,” he said as your eyes narrowed on him.

You never would have put him down as a thinker like this. He had always been so assured of himself as a soldier. A survivor.

“A way to actually live?” he questioned hopefully.

“Isn’t that what we’re fighting for?” you asked him.

He looked around at the fellow rebels that surrounded us. Fellow soldiers just following orders for self elected higher ups with a vision that was still fully unclear. “I think I’m just fighting for the sake of fighting,” he finally replied. “Because it’s all I’ve ever done. I was just a kid when all this started. My parents didn’t even survive day 1. I was all on my own. I was 8 years old. I learnt pretty quickly how to fight and fend for myself. I don’t think I’ve ever really stopped,” he confessed.

“Do you want to?” You asked, intrigued by this new vulnerable side he was showing you.

“I don’t know,” he replied before he hesitated, his eyes raking up and down the full length of your body, from your pulled back hair all the way down to your boots as he seemed to be making a decision. “But it would be nice to have the option to decide,” he finally said and you sighed.

“Y/N,” a rookie called out to you as you were both leaving the room to go back out on patrol. “Doc wants you downstairs for some tests,” she said.

“What sort of tests?” Manny asked for you, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“I don’t know, just routine ones I guess. All the women are getting tests done,” she informed.

“You too?” he asked.

“I guess so,” she replied. “I mean I haven’t been asked yet but I’m new so my name’s probably near the bottom of the roster.”

“Okay,” you agreed steadily, but you couldn’t deny the small dose of fear that flooded your veins. Tests usually meant needles- and you fucking hated needles. “Tell them I’ll be down in a minute,” you said and the younger recruit nodded before beginning her descent back down to the labs.

“What do you think it’s for?” Manny asked as you both began to slowly follow the recruit down at your own pace.

“Who knows? Probably just some routine health check,” you said optimistically.

“Then why isn’t everyone getting called in?” Manny asked skeptically.

“Maybe they will. Maybe they’re doing it this way to spice it up. They’ll probably go through all the men next week or something,” you replied.

“You want me to wait for you?” he asked when you both landed on the floor that held the labs.

“Nah, who knows how long this is gonna take. You guys go without me,” you said, encouraging him to go back down to the barracks without you.

“I’ll see you later though, yeah?” he said, already two steps down the next flight of stairs.

“Dinner at 7?” you joked as if it wasn’t at the same time every day. “Wouldn’t miss it,” you said, shooting him a smile and he quickly shot you one back before he hit the bottom step and pivoted to move down the next ones.

Little did he know, he wouldn’t see you again at 7. He wouldn’t see you at all. After that afternoon you just disappeared like you hadn’t existed at all.

When he asked his superiors about you, they pretended like they didn’t know. Maybe they had found part of the cordyceps in your system and had to put you down. Maybe they transferred you out to another branch of the rebellion. Maybe you had heard his words and just run off. Who knew? He certainly didn’t. And he doubted he’d ever get an answer either.

Without you around he became jaded. You were the only person who made him feel hope for something more. So when that Joel guy came along a few days later and massacred the majority of the fireflies in the building, he had nothing left to lose when Abby asked him to go with her to track him down. After all, it’s what he did best right. Working as a team. Following orders. Killing things. That’s all this life could ever be if he wanted to survive. And he wanted to survive.

It was a long journey. For ages they felt like they were going in circles, looking for any sign or evidence of where this Joel guy went. It felt like the blind leading the blind. They searched and they hunted. They took down infected and did anything and everything to find this Joel guy.

It took years, but eventually they did.

Abby was mostly mad by the time they all found him. She was so lucky he just fell into her lap the way he did. There was something twisted knowing he had just saved her life for her to take his, but at the end of the day, that was the mission and Manny was a good soldier if nothing else.

They left before anyone else could find them, headed back west towards Seattle. They had found a new group of rebels that way, a new group to join. After all, there was strength in numbers.

It wasn’t too long a journey, but with the snow storm they needed to find a place to rest again until it all blew over. They thought the town was deserted. There was no one on the streets. That’s because they were all bunkered down together in the old school.

He wasn’t sure who had started to fire first, all he knew was that he’d already killed three people. It was just instinct at this point, shoot first and ask questions later. Protect your team, no matter the cost.

It was a fire fight through the halls, the group of them slowly pushing the civilians back- but one of them stood out amongst the rest. He couldn’t get a good look at her, but she was clearly a good shot and was taking point on their defence. He could just about make out her voice over the sounds of gun fire. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“I’m going after the leader,” he informed Nora who was taking cover in a doorway across from him. She gave him a brief nod, providing him a small amount of cover as he quickly began to move down the hall.

“STOP SHOOTING!” the familiar woman’s voice suddenly shouted. “STOP SHOOTING!” she cried again before she boldly stepped forward from her hiding place.

“DON’T SHOOT!” she called out as she walked out with her hands raised into the middle of the hall and Manny froze. He felt like he was seeing a ghost.

“Y/N?” he asked tentatively, his weapon still aimed at you defensively but you didn’t show fear.

You both heard the clicking sound of a bullet being moved into the chamber of a gun behind him.

“DON’T SHOOT!” he quickly turned and shouted as he spotted both Abby and Nora stood a few paces behind him with their weapons raised. “Don’t shoot,” he said again, his weapon lowering as he turned back to take you in.

It had been so long. He thought you were dead.

“Who is this man? Who are they?” A gruff older voice came from behind you as a man in a red flannel and braces stepped into the hallway behind you.

“They’re okay,” you quickly told him, “I know him. He’s an old friend,” you said, your eyes turning back to Manny fondly. “I mean, we are okay right? We can talk this out like adults,” you almost pleaded as you searched his eyes for just a hint of the man you knew he had been deep down.

He knew the rest of his team wouldn’t understand. Knew he would have to do all he could to keep them from doing any more damage, but you were here- standing right in front of him- alive and well and thriving and he had to know. Needed to know what had happened to you. How you had ended up here? Why you left him without even a word.

“Yes,” he said with a nod.

“Give us your weapons as assurance,” the older guy said and Manny willingly dropped his weapon for the first time in 20 years.

Reluctantly the others at his back did the same, sliding their weapons across the floor with their feet so the old guy could collects them.

“Can we take shelter from the the storm with you?” Manny asked you as you stepped closer to him.

You gave him a nod, “But your friends have to mind their manners,” you informed him.

He gave you a small nod before turning back to the rest of his team, ushering them forward to follow the other guys at your back towards the gymnasium where everyone else was hunkered down with food and blankets.

You could feel him hesitate in the doorway at your back before he reached out his hand for your arm.

“We need to talk,” he said lowly into your ear, his eyes scanning the full length and width of the room behind you. You quickly did the same before you gave him a silent nod and began to guide him back in the other direction towards one of the open science labs.

When you were both inside you closed the door, not wanting anyone else to be privy to this particular conversation.

“What happened to you?” he immediately asked racing forward to crowd your space. He was still as good looking as ever- even if his curls had grown out a bit more and were now getting into his eyes where they’d been on the road so long. “I tried to ask, I was so worried. They made me think that you were dead,” he said frantically.

You hesitated, unsure of how to tell him what had happened that day. What had happened to you in the days after. You had been relegated from loyal soldier to prime test subject in a matter of hours. They knew that girl was headed there. Knew there was a living human being who was immune.

“It wasn’t just a routine check up,” you told him, your eyes growing sad at the memory. “They were looking for prime candidates to test their little vaccine on when it came in,”

“What vaccine?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“There was a girl. She was found by one of the fireflies out in Boston. She was immune Manny. That guy who came and killed everyone. He did it because of her.”

Manny continued to frown as he processed that information. Usually when he thought like this he liked to pace a little, it helped him focus, but he didn’t want to stop looking at you for even a single second now he knew you were here and alive.

“Manny, they injected me with some of her blood,” you said earnestly, holding his gaze. He was the first person you had ever told this. It had been eating you alive for years keeping it a secret, but you knew you had to.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” you said, your words coming quickly now, like breaking a hole in a damn and now everything was spilling out. But he was the only person who would understand. The only person who had known you before. “But it worked,” you whispered to him, so afraid that anyone would listen in and hear you.

“What?” he asked confused.

“It worked,” you said again, fighting to quickly lift your shirt and push down your trousers to show him the bite mark on your hip.

“Wait, you got bitten?” he urgently said in a hushed tone, his body quickly moving forward to crowd you further and hide you even though there was no one else around.

“But nothing happened,” you insisted, quickly trying to cover yourself up again, but you froze at the feeling of his thumb moving over your skin.

“When?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he traced his thumb backwards and forwards over the raised scar.

“Nearly five years ago,” you said shakily, your breathing becoming shallow at the feeling of his touch and the closeness of his body. “I thought everybody was dead. I thought…” you hesitated as you tried to confess to him the thing that had broken you the most. “I thought you were dead,” you said to him bravely. “I just- ran.” you told him as his thumb came to a stop, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I remembered what you said over lunch that day. Figured there had to be something more. So I ran. Moved across the country and back again until I landed here.”

“Does anyone know about…?” His voice hesitated, not wanting to say the words out loud just in case.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Why are you telling me?” he asked curiously.

“Because you were my best friend,” you confided. “Despite everything we went through, there’s no one I trust more,” you said and he finally stepped back, his hands rubbing at his eyes in what you feared was frustration.

“And what do you expect me to do now?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but- Manny please,” you said stepping forward, your hands reaching out for him. He froze. “I thought you were dead. Had I known I would have come back for you.”

“What does that mean?” he frowned, irritated and defensive.

“This place, here. You don’t have to fight anymore. We could live- together,” you insisted.

“What?” He said confused, feeling like this whole conversation was spiralling off the rails, before he’d had a chance to grasp it.

“Manny, I’ve found a place here where I can truly live, not just fight and survive all the time. I can relax. Do other things. Be a part of an actual community. We- we could-“ You didn’t know how to say it. “We could have a life together!” You finally spat out. “Oh come on,” you said confidently when he looked at you perplexed. “I know you liked me. I saw the way you looked at me back then. I wasn’t an idiot. I just never said anything because I didn’t see the point. We were soldiers, not just people back then. But now- here- we could live. We could be something.”

“I can’t just abandon my friends!” He said enraged. “And after everything that just went on out there, I doubt we’d be very welcome here in the long run.”

“Okay, then let’s go to Jackson. I hear there’s a large colony of people there.”

“We’ve just come from Jackson,” he said dejectedly and suddenly he couldn’t seeem to meet your eyes.

“What were you guys doing in Jackson?” You tentatively asked him, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“We were hunting down that Joel guy.”

“And did you… find him?” you asked. He nodded. “And?” you presssd.

“Abby killed him.”

There was something about that statement that didn’t sit well with you. You weren’t sure why. I mean, they had been well in their own right to get revenge for what happened to the Fireflies- to your friends- but there was a feeling in your gut, that stemmed from the look on Manny’s face, that told you there was something more.

“What is it?” You asked him. There was clearly something eating him up about the whole thing.

“There was this girl. She gave me this,” he said shifting his hair out the way to show off the cut on his head that had scabbed over. “She seemed to be very stressed about the fact that Abby tracked him down and killed him.”

“You think she’ll come after you all in revenge?” you asked.

“All the more reason for us to get back to the group we found in Seattle. Strength in numbers and all.”

“So that’s it then?” You said to him. “You’re just gonna live the rest of your life as a soldier?” You asked him as he settled himself back on the edge of the desk in front of you.

“It’s all I know.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” you said to him earnestly, stepping forward and he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips. Slowly he lowered his head until his forehead was nearly resting against yours.

“I missed you,” he confided.

“I’ve thought about you everyday,” you said breathing slow. “I would imagine you were at my side, talking to me. Protecting me. Having my back like you always did. When I got bit, it was your voice in my head telling me to get up. To keep going. I thought you led me here. Because you wanted me to live,” you confessed with tears in your eyes. “You were all I ever wanted. There was no one else like you.”

Suddenly his lips were on yours. They were chapped from days trekking through the cold, but they still set you on fire. You had dreamt of this so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

“You were the only thing I have EVER wanted,” he stressed, your breaths mingling with your closeness. “You were the only person who made me want more in this life.”

“Then stay,” you insisted, your eyes searching his desperately now you finally had him in your arms once again. “Please... Stay.”

[sevgilimsatoru]

Leaning on you

Summary: Sick reader x Caleb

Tags: Sick reader, Caleb x reader, fluff, kind of self indulgent

Word count: 700

Caleb has a new message for you!

I never hear you say, you miss me. Should I take this as a sign that you do?

Caleb is the type who gets stressed over your health more than you'd like. It's annoying, really.

But what can you do when he is so concerned over a little cold? Comforting and cooing at you like you are going to die or something.

He stood in infront of you in your living room, lecturing you for the third time about how you should stop being so careless and how important your health is.

"I'm fine, Caleb. It's just a cold." You said, sniffling. Your nose felt stuffy. Your body felt warm and just so tired. You didn't feel like doing anything. "You'll catch a cold too if you keep this up," you said, warning him to not get too close, too comfortable, but when did he ever listen to you?

"It's not fine. If you keep shrugging it off, you aren't going to get better, you know?" Caleb said, shifting to stand beside you. His hands holding your face gently, caressing your cheek with his fingers.

"Did you eat breakfast?" He asked, squishing your cheeks. A small smile graced his face. When you nodded in return, he gently picked you up, taking you to your room.

He gently lays you down on the bed, tucking you under the sheets, and moves to sit beside you. His warm hand sliding in your hair, massaging your skull.

That felt relaxing.

"If you catch a cold, don't blame me." You said, leaning into his touch. Hoping he won't ignore your words like he did before.

"I won't catch a cold because I know how to take care of myself, unlike you." Caleb replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Do you feel hungry? I can make you some soup; it'll make you feel better."

"No, thanks. I just don't feel like eating right now." You said, tugging the sheets upwards to cover your mouth. Your nose was stuffy; you couldn't even breathe properly.

You hated this.

"That's okay… You don't have to force yourself. Just tell me whatever you want to eat when you feel like it. I'll make it for you, honey." Caleb replied, patting you on the head.

There was a comforting silence between you two. Until Caleb stood up and walked out of the room. He came back a minute later, a glass of water in his hands.

"Here, drink some. Your lips are dry; you keep forgetting to drink water." He said, gently helping you sit up and drink the water. When you were done, Caleb placed the glass on the bedside table.

"I'll let you rest, okay?" He said, turning back to walk out of the room. You sat up, grabbing his arm. Caleb stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look at you.

"Can you stay, please? Can… can we cuddle, just for a little bit?" You asked, looking up at him. You didn't want him to get sick, but you didn't want him to leave either.

"Of course, sweetie." Caleb said with a smile. Slowly, getting up on the bed. He lay down beside him, pulling the sheets over him. Tugging you close.

He was warm.

His chest was pressed against your back, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, and his cheek resting on your shoulder. He placed a kiss on your cheek, covering your hand with his own.

"I would love to cuddle properly, but I doubt you'd be able to breathe like that with your stuffy nose." He said, his legs tangled up with yours. "Such a pretty girl." He mused, placing chaste kisses on the skin of your neck and shoulder.

"It's fine; this is okay." You replied, a smile on your face. You could stay like this. You moved your head to press a small kiss on the back of his hand.

It felt good.

Comfortable.

He felt like home.

A/N: Hey everyone. I know I'm not posting as often, I really don't like doing that but I keep trying to re-write the spin off chapters that have already been done. I don't know why. Also, I got sick, again. So this was a really self indulgent drabble. The area around my ribs is suddenly hurting a lot and when it happened last time, I ended up in the hospital for like a week so yeah. But I'll be fine. Have a nice day and take care of yourself!!

Tag list: @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife @wooasecret @anatherone @asgardiancoffemaker @sadsaidthesadthing @beppybeesnuggets @lilacflower667 @mangooes @sunnyx07 @30jades

[dustpages]

Momoring

"We ought to find a bigger flat." I murmured within myself.

My studio apartment wasn't big enough anymore for me and my precious baby; we were forced to share the bed even though neither of us had ever complained since I adopted him.

My dance clothes were stored under the bed and into every free spot of the small house. I was a professional dancer teaching hip hop in a school in central London.

My son rolled over to my side of the bed, resting his face in the valley of the tits. "Look who is awake." I greeted him, brushing his messy hair.

I had adopted him a few years ago, and since then we had had no boundaries regarding touching in ways that many would reckon inadmissible.

His blue eyes were staring at me in adoration; his warm breath tickled my tits, making me wet.

"You know what to do," I told him.

He began kissing my big tits, licking my nipples and sucking on them. My fingers were gently caressing his hair; the touch of his lips and tongue on my sensitive nipples was making me moan in pleasure.

I was wet, so wet. My pussy was begging for his attention; it always did. His little hands were sliding on the curves of my body, his lips still attached to my nipples.

"Turn around," I demanded.

He obeyed at once, turning his back on me. I positioned myself behind him, my nipples pressed against his back, my hands gently caressing his sides.

I could feel his hard cock against my thighs; it was always ready to get some attention. I began rubbing my pussy up against his cock.

He was panting heavily; his little body was trembling with excitement.

My lips were on his neck; my tongue was tracing the line of his jaw. I kissed his cheek, making him blush.

"M-mum." He stuttered, his voice hoarse.

"What is it, baby? Don't you like it?" I asked, still grinding my pussy on his hard cock.

"I do. If anything, I'm enjoying it too much," he responded.

"And what should Mummy do to make you feel better?" I whispered into his ear. "My naughty baby wants to stick his dick inside Mummy's pussy, doesn't he?" I teased him.

He moaned into my ear. "Please, Mum. I need it; I want it so badly."

" You've been such a good boy." I kissed his temple. "Mummy is going to give you what you deserve."

I got off from him and flipped his small frame on the mattress. I straddled his hips, guiding his cock inside of me. "I need to be very slow with you." I told him.

"Why, Mum?" he asked.

"Because I'm way too big for you, sweetie. My pussy can tear you in half." I laughed.

His hands reached my breasts; he began to fondle me while he was watching me riding him. "You're huge, Mum," he moaned.

His dick was buried inside of me, he was moaning loudly, and I was going faster and faster. "I know, I'm too big for your tiny body." I replied.

"You're making me feel so good, Mum." He moaned again; his hands were grabbing my hips.

I pressed his arms on the bed; I put my hands on his chest. "I can crush you, baby, so you better let me fuck you as I want." I moaned.

My hips started to move faster; his dick was so deep in my pussy that he was hitting my cervix, and he began to moan even louder than before.

"I think you like to be used by your big mummy." I laughed.

"Yes, Mum." He moaned, his face red, his body trembling in pleasure.

His fingers rubbed my clit in circles; I could feel how much I was wet for him. I was enjoying every second. "Oh, that's so good, baby!" I purred.

His finger left my pussy and grabbed my breasts, his hands fondling me while I was bouncing on him, his cock buried in my cunt, his breathing getting faster and faster. I knew he was close to orgasm.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, Mum!" He moaned loudly.

"Don't worry, baby. You can cum in my pussy." I purred.

"Really?!" he asked in awe.

"Yes, baby, you're my son, and I want you to fill me up." I assured him.

His face contorted in pleasure, his body twitching in ecstasy, he came. I felt his cum filling my pussy; it felt warm and comforting.

I bent forward, my pussy pressing against his pelvis, my lips kissing his cheek. "That was so good, baby. You're such a good boy."

With obvious effort, he flipped me on my back, getting on top of me, his lips close to mine. "I want to kiss you, Mum." He purred.

His tongue swirled around mine, his hips snapped forward, making me moan into his mouth. He was still hard, and I could feel that he was ready to go again. His hands were holding mine over my head, his tongue was exploring my mouth, and his cock was getting even deeper inside of me.

He lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. His lips were now on my neck, his tongue tracing the line of my jaw while he was fucking me with such intensity that I could barely breathe.

His pace became faster; he was pushing his cock deeper inside my pussy, his breath tickling my skin. "Oh fuck, baby! You're going to make me cum!" I moaned.

"Are you close, Mum?" He whispered in my ear.

"Yes, baby, I'm so close." I assured him.

My nails were scratching his back; his dick was pounding my cunt; I was so wet that his cock was going in and out without any effort. He kissed me again, his tongue swirling around mine while he was thrusting even harder inside of me.

I arched my back as an overwhelming sensation took over my body; my orgasm hit me hard. I was moaning so loudly that our neighbours could hear me.

"Oh, baby, that was so intense. You made me cum so good." I murmured.

He kissed me with such a hunger that took my breath away. "Mum." He whispered into my lips. "I want to cum again. I need it."

I was smiling, kissing him back. "I'm all yours, baby." I murmured.

He flipped me over, my ass up in the air. His hands grabbed my hips, pulling me closer to him; his cock was already at the entrance of my pussy. He began thrusting inside me, hard. "Oh, baby, you're so deep." I moaned.

He bent forward, his chest pressing against my back; his cock was going even deeper. His lips brushed against my ear; his warm breath sent shivers down my spine. "I love you, Mum." He whispered.

I moaned into the pillow; my pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto the sheets. His cock was hitting my cervix with every thrust; I loved that feeling. "I love you too, baby." I purred back.

His hands were on my shoulders; he was pounding me so hard that I couldn't think straight. His hips were snapping forward; his balls were slapping against my pussy.

"Oh fuck, baby! I need it again. I'm so close." I begged.

He kept fucking me, his cock going deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're so tight, Mum." He groaned.

I could barely form coherent thoughts; I was just a mess of pleasure and lust. "I know, baby. Your cock is so big for my tiny pussy. You're going to break it." I panted.

He grabbed my hair, pulling it back, making me arch my spine even more. His cock went even deeper, and I came again. I was screaming in pleasure, my pussy throbbing around his cock. My legs were trembling; I was barely able to keep myself up.

We collapsed on the bed; his thrust went on relentlessly. "Please, baby, I can't take it anymore." I begged him.

"I'm almost done," he moaned into my ears. His thrusts became erratic and wild, approaching his climax.

"Fill my cunt up, baby. Please! I need you." I was begging him.

He came with a loud moan, his cum filling my cunt; some of his cum was dripping down my leg.

He collapsed on me, our breaths laboured. "So fucking hot," he cussed, praising me.

I chucked. "You are not so bad yourself." I told him, still catching my breath.

We fell asleep like that, our bodies entwined, my pussy full of his warm cum.

The following morning, while he was still sleeping next to me, I contacted my older sister Hana, who lived in the city as well.

She was engaged with a real estate agent named Martin, and hopefully he would have been able to find a new and vaster place for us.

Martin was a hot man; I had always thought of him as handsome and with a good body. He was tall and well-trained, his blond hair always perfectly styled.

I planned to meet him while my baby was at school during one of my days off. We met in a cosy café near his office; he was dressed impeccably, and his blue eyes were staring into mine when I walked in.

"Martin, it is so good to see you." I smiled at him, kissing him on the cheek.

"The pleasure is mine, Momo. It has been so long." He smiled back.

"I'm in need of a bigger apartment; can you help me out?" I asked.

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Of course, Momo. I know you and your son are struggling to live in that tiny studio, but the prices are quite high at the moment." He explained.

I sighed in frustration. "I know the prices are high, but I can't go on living like this with my baby." I said.

His eyes softened. "Don't worry, Momo, I'm going to find you a decent place." He promised me.

His hand brushed over mine, and I shivered. I could see in his eyes lust and desire.

"Martin, don't." I reprimand him, pulling away.

"What? I thought you were into me." He smirked.

"I am, but I can't. I have a son." I replied.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, Momo." He muttered in a luring tone. "But still I am sure I could provide you a pleasurable afternoon, if you concede to me." 

"Are you not considering my sister?" I asked, getting nervous.

" If we both keep it for ourselves, I don't see why you couldn't indulge." He retorted.

I bit my lower lip; his words were tempting me. " If we are going to do it, I want a big discount on the rent." I negotiated.

He chuckled. "Of course, you're going to have a discount." He assured me.

We walked into the car park, and once we were hidden from the cameras, he pushed me against his car, his body pressed against mine. "You are so damn hot," he praised me.

 His hands started to wander on my curves; his lips pressed against my neck.

"I want it hard and quick." I requested. His mouth was on mine, his tongue swirling around my mouth, his hands on my ass. He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his hips, his mouth still on mine.

His tongue was exploring my mouth while his hands were gripping my hips. "I like it when you talk dirty," he purred.

He lifted me up, setting me on the bonnet of his car. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin.

 His hands slid under my blouse, unhooking my bra with ease. His mouth closed around my nipple, his tongue flicking it while his other hand was pinching and rolling my other nipple between his fingers.

I moaned at the sensation, my back arching, my fingers tangled in his hair. I could feel his bulge against my thigh, and I couldn't help but grind against it. He chuckled, his breath hot against my skin.

"Someone's eager," he murmured.

"You're the one who started it." I retorted, my voice breathy.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Let me see your tits," he demanded.

I complied, pulling my blouse over my head and discarding it on the ground. His eyes roamed over my body, drinking in the sight of my naked chest. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on my breasts. "They're fucking perfect," he groaned.

"Don't just look; touch them." I urged.

He didn't need to be told twice. His hands cupped my breasts, kneading and squeezing them. His thumbs circled my nipples, eliciting a moan from my lips. "That feels so good." I purred.

He leaned down, his mouth closing around one of my nipples. He sucked and licked, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud. I writhed beneath him, my hips bucking up. "Martin." I moaned.

His name was a plea on my lips, and he responded in kind. He switched to my other breast, giving it the same treatment. His hand trailed down my stomach, reaching the waistband of my skirt. He tugged it down, along with my panties, leaving me completely exposed.

"You're so wet," he groaned, his finger slipping between my folds.

I whimpered, my body aching for more. He obliged, his finger plunging inside me. I gasped, my walls clenching around him. He pumped his finger in and out, adding a second one. I rocked against his hand, chasing my pleasure.

"Please," I begged. "I need more."

He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He sucked them clean, savouring my taste. "You taste hella good," he growled.

I shuddered, my desire burning brighter. He unzipped his trousers, freeing his dick. As my sister Hana had confessed to me, Martin had a monster in between his legs. My eyes widened at the sight of it. It was long and thick, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Like what you see?" he teased.

I nodded, my mind going blank. He gripped my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bonnet. He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing my clit with the tip of his cock. I whined, trying to push myself onto him.

He held me still, a wicked glint in his eye. "Not yet, darling. I want to savour this."

I pouted, my frustration mounting. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, dominating me. I melted into him, my body surrendering to his touch.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck. "Tell me what you want," he commanded.

"Martin, we don't have all the time in the day; just stick it in." I whined. "I don't want to risk getting caught; my son's school is not that far from here." 

He smirked, and without any warning, plunged his dick inside of me to the hilt. I cried out, my walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

"Fuck, you're tight," he gritted out.

I took a moment to adjust to his size, my inner muscles spasming around him. He gave me a moment to catch my breath before he started to move. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward. I moaned, my eyes rolling back.

He leaned over me, his lips brushing against my ear. "Do you like that?" he taunted. "Tell me how much you love my cock."

I whimpered, my words slurred. "I love it. It's so big. So fucking big."

He grinned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "That's it. Let go."

I threw my head back, my moans echoing through the car park. He pounded into me, his balls slapping against my ass. I could feel my climax approaching, my body coiling tighter and tighter.

"Oh god. Oh fuck. Martin, please." I begged, my voice a sob.

He pistoned into me, his pace unrelenting. "Come for me," he growled. "I want to feel your pussy milk me dry."

His words sent me over the edge. I came undone, my pussy clenching around his cock.

"I'm close." Martin grunted, his thrusts speeding up.

I convulsed beneath him, the pleasure too much to bear. "Do not cum inside; that is allowed only to my son." I warned him.

He smirked. "All right then." He withdrew his dick from my cunt. "I'm going to invade your ass."

He aligned his cock to my ass; he began to push, making me scream. His cock was stretching my ass, making my body shiver.

"Fuck," he gritted out.

"Yes, you're so tight." He moaned.

My ass was struggling to accommodate him, but he kept pushing, determined to fuck my ass. Finally, he was buried in me, his cock filling my ass.

I was a moaning and trembling mess, the pain and pleasure intertwining. "Oh my fucking god." I gasped. "Your cock is so big in my ass."

He grinned, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. "Yeah, it is," he smirked, starting to fuck my tight ass. "Your ass is so fucking tight. It's strangling my cock."

"Oh fuck." I groaned, feeling every inch of him. "It's so intense."

He kept pounding into my ass, his thrusts steady and deep. I was moaning uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the sensation of having my ass filled up with his huge cock. "God, it feels so good." I whimpered.

He grunted in response, his grip on my hips tight. I was at his mercy, my body subject to his desires. He kept fucking my ass, slamming his cock deep inside me with each thrust. I was losing my mind, the pleasure consuming me.

"Harder, Martin." I moaned. "Fuck my ass harder."

He obeyed, his thrusts becoming more forceful. He pounded into me, his hips snapping forward with a force that made me cry out. I was a mess beneath him, my moans filling the air.

"Yes!" I screamed, my body shuddering. "Just like that. Fuck my ass just like that."

He growled, a low, primal sound. "Do you like that?" he taunted, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when your ass is stuffed with cock."

I nodded, unable to speak. He kept fucking me, my ass clenching around his thick shaft. "God, yes." I moaned.

He leaned forward, his chest pressed against my back. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "I'm going to fill up your ass with cum," he growled, his tone filled with lust.

"Do it." I urged, my voice breathless. "Fill up my ass with your hot cum."

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Fuck," he groaned. "I'm going to cum."

I moaned, my body trembling in anticipation. "Do it." I repeated it, my voice a desperate plea. "Cum in my ass. I need it."

He slammed into me one last time, his cock buried deep inside of my ass. He came, his cum filling up my ass; I felt it warm inside of me.

He withdrew, his cum dripping out of my ass and down my legs. "Oh fuck," he groaned.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground, my ass still clenching around the memory of his dick.

He hoisted me up on his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist; he was still inside of me; he fucked me standing. Martin's thrusts were relentless, pounding into me with brute force. I screamed in pleasure, my body on the brink of collapse. My pussy was getting wetter by the second, my body shaking. I was so close to my orgasm.

Martin's thrusts sped up; he was fucking me like a wild beast. His cock hit my cervix with each thrust, making me moan even louder. We heard a group of young boys coming our way.

” Martin." I warned him.

"I don't give a fuck if some kids see us fucking." He retorted. His words took me aback; his cock was still going in and out of my cunt with no signs of stopping.

" Martin I'm not a fucking exhibitionist." I protested.

The boys had almost reached us, and I knew they would catch us in the act. I looked up, and sure enough, many boys were staring at us in shock.

I covered my face with my hands, mortified. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I shouted at them.

One of the boys emerged from behind. "Judas, you swore to be mine," my baby shouted back.

I froze, my eyes wide in shock. "W-what are you doing here?" I stammered.

My son got delirious, and he smashed his mobile on the tarmac, shattering it. "Fuck off," he cussed, before running away with tears streaming down his face.

"Baby, wait." I called after him.

Martin pulled out of me and zipped up his trousers. "That went well." He chuckled.

I glared at him, my anger rising. "Shut up, you idiot. That was my fucking son. I need to go after him."

I grabbed my blouse and skirt, hastily getting dressed. I didn't even bother with my panties; I just left them on the ground. I ran after my son, calling his name, but he was already gone.

"Bollocks." I cursed, my heart heavy with guilt and worry.

I called Hana, and she came to pick me up in my desperate quest to find him.

She was driving while I was nervously chewing on my lower lip. "What did you do to make him so upset?" she asked.

I had to lie to her; I couldn't tell her the truth about me and Martin. "We argued," I lied.

She frowned, her eyes on the road. "About what?"

"Nothing serious, just get me home, please." I responded.

Once we arrived at the flat, I thanked her and rushed inside. I found him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. His head was down, and his shoulders slumped.

"Baby." I called out to him. He didn't respond, his body trembling. I approached him cautiously, kneeling beside him. "I'm so sorry." I apologised. "I never meant to hurt you."

He looked up at me, his eyes red and puffy. "Why?" he croaked. "Why?" His voice cracked with emotion.

I reached out, cupping his cheek. "I had met Martin to get his help to find us a new place, but things got carried away. I'm so sorry, baby." I pleaded.

He pushed my hand away, his anger and hurt evident. "You said you loved me. Was it all a lie?" he accused.

I shook my head frantically. "No, baby. I love you, I do. I've never felt this way about anyone else."

He scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "Then why? Why did you let him have his way with you?" 

I sighed, my heart breaking at the pain in his voice. "Understand that I did it for us, to get a better place to live."

He scoffed again bitterly. "That might have been your noble cause, but you enjoyed him beyond the mere thought of helping us." 

I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him, my cheek against his. "I didn't, baby. It didn't mean anything, I swear."

He didn't say anything, his body tense in my embrace. I held him tighter, my tears falling onto his shoulder. "I love you." I whispered. "You're my everything."

He remained silent, his breathing ragged. I pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Say something, please."

He licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am pathetic. I don't have the might to hate you; I love you too much."

We fell silent, the weight of our situation sinking in. I stroked his hair, my heart aching with regret. "What can I do to fix this situation?" I questioned.

He looked up at me, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Give me the chance to make it up to you." I offered. "Let me show you how much you mean to me."

He considered my words, his expression enquiring. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, my resolve firm. "Let me make you feel good. Let me worship every inch of your body. Let me show you that you're the only one for me."

He hesitated, his doubt evident. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, my conviction unwavering. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. You're my son, my baby, and I love you more than anything."

He searched my eyes, looking for any sign of deception. Finding none, he finally nodded. "Okay," he agreed.

I smiled softly, relief washing over me. "Okay," I echoed. "Lie down."

He lay down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I positioned myself between his legs, my hands on his thighs. I leaned down, my lips a whisper away from his cock. "Is this okay?" I checked.

He nodded, his breath hitching in anticipation. I smiled reassuringly and then took him into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the tip, licking the pre-cum that had already formed. I took him deeper, my mouth engulfing his shaft.

He moaned, his hips bucking up. I bobbed my head, my hand stroking the base of his dick. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him hard.

"M-mum," he stuttered. "It's so good."

I hummed around him, the vibration making him shudder. I reached down, my fingers teasing his balls. I rolled them gently in my hand, feeling them tighten.

I could feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming ragged. "I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. "Oh baby, it is going to be the first of many ejaculations ." I promised.

My mouth seized his cock again, bobbing up and down, my hand twisting his shaft. His moans grew louder, his body tensing up. "Fuck. Mum," he cried out.

His cum shot into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed, savouring his taste. I continued to suck him gently, milking him dry. When I was satisfied, I pulled back, licking my lips.

"That was delicious." I praised. "Did you like it?"

He nodded, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Yeah, it was amazing."

I smiled, satisfaction coursing through me. "Good." I leaned up, kissing his lips softly. "Now, let me take care of you."

I straddled him, grinding my pussy against his cock. I could feel him hardening again, his desire for me evident. I reached between us, guiding him inside me. I sank down on him, taking him to the hilt.

"Oh fuck," I moaned. "You feel so good inside me."

I started to ride him, my hips moving up and down. "Mum," he groaned. "You're so tight."

I leaned down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Our tongues danced together, our bodies moving in perfect sync. I could feel another orgasm building inside me, my walls clenching around his shaft.

"I'm close." I panted. "So close."

He reached down, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Come for me, Mum. Cum all over my cock."

His words sent me over the top. I screamed, my pussy spasming around him. I rode him through my orgasm, prolonging the waves of pleasure.

When I finally came down from my high, I looked down at him, a smirk on his face. "That was fucking incredible."

I kissed him again, our love for each other palpable. "I love you so much." I whispered.

He responded to me reciprocating my feelings. I dismounted him and settled in between his legs, my face inches from his butt. "Can I?" I asked.

He spread his legs, giving me better access. "Do it," he urged.

I licked my lips, anticipation coursing through me. I leaned in, my tongue lapping at his hole. I swirled it around, tasting every inch of him. He moaned, his body shuddering.

I licked and prodded, my tongue pushing inside him. I fingered him with my tongue, making him squirm. "Oh god," he groaned.

I pulled back, spit dripping from my chin. "Do you like it?" I teased.

He nodded frantically. "Yeah, I do."

I licked him again, this time adding a finger. I pushed it inside, feeling him clench around me. "You're so fucking tight." I marvelled.

I worked him loose, adding another finger. I scissored them, stretching him out. My other hand wanked his cock, feeling it throb. I pumped it fast, knowing he was close.

"Mum," he moaned. "I'm going to come."

I sucked his cock hard, tasting his cum in my mouth. He released a long and loud moan, his body shaking with pleasure. I swallowed every last drop, savouring his essence.

When he was done, I pulled back, a satisfied grin on my face. "You are not done for tonight; you have two more holes to fill up.

I lay down on the mattress, my legs spread wide. "Come here." I beckoned.

He climbed over me, his dick hard again. "Ready for round two?" I smirked.

He nodded eagerly. "Fuck yes."

I guided him inside me, feeling him fill me up completely. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Fuck me hard." I demanded.

He didn't hesitate, his hips pistoning in and out. I threw my head back, moaning loudly. "Yes." I cried out. "Just like that."

He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and bit it, making me writhe beneath him. His other hand reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed it furiously, sending jolts of pleasure through me.

"Don't stop." I begged. "Please, don't stop."

He increased his pace, his cock hitting my cervix. "I'm close," he grunted.

I clamped down on him, my pussy milking his cock. "Fill me up," I moaned. "Give me all of your cum."

He came with a roar, his seed painting my insides. His warmth triggered my own orgasm, making me quiver under him.

 I raked my nails down his back, my pleasure overwhelming.

He collapsed on top of me, his breathing laboured. "Holy shit," he panted. "That was mind-blowing."

I laughed breathlessly. "Yeah, it was pretty fucking good."

We lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, he rolled off me, his cock slipping out.

I massaged his dick lazily, keeping it hard. "This is how it's going to go in a few seconds." I began speaking with my sexy voice. "I'll get on all fours in the middle of this very bed, and you 're going to mount me and fuck my ass like there is no tomorrow."

He got on his knees, his hands on my hips. His cock was pressing against my tight hole, seeking entrance. "Are you ready?" he questioned.

I nodded. "Do it."

He pushed inside, his tip popping in. I winced at the initial pain, but it quickly turned into pleasure. I felt so full, so complete.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "Your ass is so tight."

I wiggled my hips, adjusting to his girth. "Start slow," I instructed.

He pulled out slightly, then pushed back in. He set a steady pace, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Harder," I demanded. "Fuck me harder."

He complied, his hips snapping forward with more force. I cried out, the pain and pleasure melding together. He reached around, his fingers finding my swollen clit. He rubbed it vigorously, sending jolts through my body.

"Yes." I screamed. "Just like that."

I could feel another orgasm in bound, my body tensing up. He sensed it too, fucking with wild abandon.

"I'm going to cum." I screamed.

He grunted, his thrusts becoming erratic. I threw my head down on the pillow, my screams muffled. I felt him cum, his hot seed filling my ass. I shuddered, my own orgasm ripping through me.

I collapsed onto the bed, my body spent. He fell beside me, his chest heaving. "That was amazing," he panted.

I nodded, unable to form words. We lay there for a long time, our bodies intertwined. Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, our hearts full of love and our bodies sated.

The following days were a crescendo of stress. My son pushed me to confess to my sister Hana what happened, but I could not bring myself to do it.

"Mum, she has to know what kind of man his fiancé is," he declared while we were cuddling on the bed after another sex marathon. "If he had betrayed her with you, the odds would suggest that he might have done it already."

I kissed him softly, running my fingers through his hair. "I'll do it, but I need you to be with me."

 He smiled softly. "Of course, I'm always here for you."

We walked to her house hand in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. We got to the door, and I knocked, my nerves on edge.

Hana opened the door, her face lit up with joy at the sight of us. "What a pleasant surprise!"

I forced a smile, my guilt eating away at me. "Hi, Hana. We need to talk."

She frowned slightly but stepped aside to let us in. "Of course. What's wrong?"

We followed her into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Martin was nowhere in sight, and I was relieved by that. " It's about Martin." I began.

She looked at me quizzically. "What about him?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. "He… he cheated on you. With me." I blurted out.

She froze, her face paling. "What?"

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Hana. I never meant for it to happen."

She sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. "How?"

I licked my lips nervously. "We met up to talk about finding a new apartment for me and my son. And things just… escalated."

She looked away, her emotions in turmoil. "When?" she croaked.

I hesitated; my son, sensing my difficulties, spoke for me. "Auntie Hana. I know you have a noble soul; forgive her because she is really feeling terrible, and she was just looking to get a new house for us," he said.

Hana looked at him, then back at me. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" she questioned, her voice shaking with hurt.

I wiped away a tear, my heart breaking. "I was scared. I was afraid of losing you." I admitted.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the room. "And what about you?" she turned to my son. "Were you aware of this?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I was. And I'm the one who forced her to confess the truth to you."

Hana stopped pacing, turning to face us. "I… I need time to process this."

I nodded, understanding. "I understand. I'm sorry again for everything."

She looked at my son, then back at me. "I appreciate your honesty, but this… this is a lot to take in."

We stood up, giving her space. "Of course. We'll leave you alone." I said.

I walked out first; my son hugged my sister, whispering something into her ears.

We walked home hand in hand, my head on his shoulder. "What did you tell her?" I asked.

He kissed the top of my head. "That she should not trust her boyfriend in the slightest and to take into consideration your honesty as an act of love," he answered.

I laughed softly. "You always know how to make me feel better."

We arrived home. As soon as the door closed, I grabbed him, pinning him against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, his breathing hitching. "What are you doing?" he gasped.

I didn't answer, my lips crashing into his. I kissed him hard, my tongue pushing into his mouth with a desperate hunger. He moaned, his arms wrapping around my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.

I pressed my body against his, feeling his hard cock against my thigh. I rocked my hips against him, grinding on his dick. "Mum," he gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Shh." I silenced him, my hand slipping under his shirt. I caressed his chest, my fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. He shivered, his body responding to my touch. I pinched his nipple, rolling it between my fingers. He moaned, his head falling back against the wall.

"M-Mum." He stuttered, his voice trembling. "W-What are you doing?"

I smiled against his lips. "I'm showing you how much I love you." I murmured.

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "Okay," he breathed, his hands gripping my waist.

I kissed him again, my tongue exploring his mouth with a fervour that left him breathless. I sucked on his tongue, nibbling on his lips. He moaned into my mouth, his body arching against mine. I could feel his dick throbbing against my leg, his desire palpable.

"Mum," he moaned, his hands sliding down to my ass. He squeezed my cheeks, pulling me closer. I ground against him, feeling his length harden even more.

I broke the kiss, trailing my lips down his neck. I licked and sucked on his skin, leaving a trail of love bites. He gasped, his fingers clutching my hair. "Mum, please," he begged.

I ignored his pleas, continuing my ministrations. I reached the collar of his shirt, tugging it down. I exposed his shoulder, biting down on the skin. He cried out, his body shuddering with pleasure.

"Fuck, Mum," he groaned, thrusting his hips against me.

I moved lower, pushing his shirt up. I kissed his chest, my tongue swirling around his nipples. They hardened under my touch, and I took one into my mouth, sucking on it. He arched beneath me, his moans filling the room.

"Oh god, Mum," he panted, his hands tugging at my hair. I switched to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. He writhed beneath me, his body trembling with pleasure.

I continued downward, my tongue tracing the lines of his abs. He had a toned stomach, and I couldn't resist licking every inch of it. I swirled my tongue around his navel, making him shiver.

"Mum, please," he begged, his voice hoarse with desire.

I looked up at him, a smile on my face. "Please what?" I teased.

"I need you," he pleaded, his eyes dark with lust.

I chuckled, unbuttoning his trousers. I pulled them down, along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. It sprang free proudly. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking it slowly.

"Mum," he groaned, his hips thrusting into my hand. I pumped his cock, my fingers tightening around the shaft. I ran my thumb over the tip, spreading the pre-cum that had formed there.

I lowered my head, my tongue licking the tip of his cock. He moaned loudly, his fingers tangling in my curls. I licked the length of his shaft, swirling my tongue around it. I reached the base, licking his balls.

He gasped, his body trembling. "M-Mum," he stuttered.

I took his balls into my mouth, sucking gently. He cried out, thrusting his hips forward. I released them, licking my way back up his cock. I reached the tip, sucking it into my mouth.

"Fuuuck," he moaned, grinding his hips against my face. I took more of him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth. I sucked him hard, my head bobbing up and down.

His moans filled the room, his fingers tugging at my curls. I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction. He thrust into my mouth, fucking my face with abandon.

I gagged, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. He kept going, his moans turning into grunts. "Mum, I'm going to cum," he warned.

I pulled back, his cock slipping from my mouth with a pop. "Not yet." I purred, licking my lips.

He groaned, frustration evident on his face. "Please, Mum," he begged. "I need to cum."

I smiled, stroking his cock. "Soon." I assured him.

He nodded, trust shining in his eyes. I stood up, kissing him deeply. He moaned into my lips, his tongue tangling with mine. I broke the kiss, guiding him to the sofa. I pushed him down, climbing on top of him.

I positioned myself above his cock, lowering myself onto it. He moaned as I engulfed him, his cock stretching me. I gasped, feeling him fill me up completely.

"Oh fuck, Mum," he breathed, gripping my hips. I started to move, riding him at a steady pace. He watched me, his eyes hooded with lust.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. I smiled, leaning forward to kiss him. I rode him faster, my hips slamming down onto him. He groaned, meeting my movements with his own thrusts.

His hands took care of kneading my tits, his thumbs circling my nipples. "You feel so good," he grunted.

I moaned, losing myself in the sensation. I bounced on his cock, taking him to the hilt with each movement. He grunted, his hips snapping up to meet me.

"Fuck, baby." I moaned, throwing my head back. "You're so hard."

He grinned, thrusting up into me. "You make me hard," he growled. I rode him harder, chasing our orgasms. His hands gripped my waist, helping me move.

I leaned back, placing my hands on his thighs. I changed the angle, taking him deeper with each movement. "Oh god," he gasped. "That feels so good."

"Do you like it deep?" I purred. "Do you like feeling my pussy clench around your cock?"

He nodded, unable to form words. "Yes," he finally breathed. "I love it."

I rode him faster, bouncing on his cock with a desperation that bordered on insanity. He met my movements, thrusting up into me with equal fervour. I moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

My movements turned erratic, my body on the verge of orgasm.

"I'm going to cum." I cried, my walls clenching around him. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming."

He groaned, his thrusts becoming jerky. "Me too," he grunted. I convulsed around him, my orgasm hitting me with a force that left me breathless. He came soon after, his seed filling me up. I collapsed on top of him, our chests heaving as we caught our breath.

"Wow." I finally breathed, lifting my head to look at him.

He smiled, his eyes filled with satisfaction. "Yeah," he agreed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I kissed him softly, my lips lingering on his. We stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

Finally, I lifted myself off him, sitting up. He looked up at me, concern shining in his eyes.

“ Are you feeling any better?” he questioned.

I nodded, smiling, my fingers through his hair. He smiled back, relief evident on his face.

“ Hanna will decide what to do on her own; hopefully, she will forgive me.” I analysed.

 He nodded, agreeing with my assessment. We stayed on the sofa, wrapped in each other's arms, finding comfort in each other's embrace.

The following morning I received a text from Hana; she was inviting me to a coffee. My baby gave me a small kiss on my lips, wishing me good luck.

I arrived at the café, and Hana was already there, her face neutral. I sat down, my heart in my throat.

“ Hey.” I greeted her. “ How are you?”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “ I'm okay,” she replied, her tone guarded. I nodded, fidgeting with my hands.

“ I'm glad you're okay.” I said, my voice soft. “ I was worried about you.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “ I know,” she murmured. “ And I appreciate it.”

“ Hana.” I began. “I—”

“ Stop,” she interrupted, holding up her hand. “ I don't want to hear it.”

I nodded, clamping my mouth shut. She looked at me, her expression torn. “ I have cut all bridges with my ex-fiancé; I chose to prioritise our sisterhood,” she revealed. I gaped at her, shock written all over my face.

“ You… you did?” I questioned, my voice trembling. “ Why?”

She sighed again, her eyes sad. “ Because despite everything, you're my sister,” she explained. “ And family is the most important thing to me.”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. “ Oh, Hana.” I breathed, reaching across the table to take her hand. “ Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She smiled softly, squeezing my hand. “ It's okay,” she assured me. “ Be grateful to your son for having supported you."

I nodded my head vehemently, my resolve firm. “ I cannot do anything but adore him; he is everything to me.” I confessed.

We held hands for a moment, the bond of sisterhood strengthening between us. Then, I pulled back, wiping away a stray tear. “ So.” I began, my tone lighter. “ How are you holding up? Really?”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “ I'm angry,” she admitted. “ And hurt. But I'll get through it.”

I nodded, understanding in my eyes. “ Yeah. Yeah, you will. You're strong, Hana.”

She smirked, a glimmer of her usual spirit returning. “ Damn right, I am,” she retorted. I chuckled, the tension in my body easing. “ That's my sister,” I praised.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's presence. Then, she spoke up, her tone curious. “ So,” she began. “ Would you mind my help to find you a place to live with your son?" she proposed. "After all, you were looking for a new house, weren't you?"

I gaped at her, my jaw dropping in shock. “ Are you serious?” I asked, my voice filled with disbelief. “ You'd help me after everything?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “ Of course,” she reassured me. “ Like I said, family is the most important. And I want to help you.”

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, and without thinking, I stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace. “ Thank you, Hana.” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “ Thank you so much.”

We hugged for a long moment, both of us finding comfort in the other's arms. Then, we pulled back, a sense of peace settling over us.

Finally, in the span of a month, we managed to find a flat that suited all our requirements and was fairly close to Hanna's place.

"Even though we have two bedrooms, we are just going to use one as far as I'm concerned," my son declared, unpacking one of the last boxes.

"Yeah, we are. I don't think I could sleep without you next to me anymore." I acknowledged.

[schemmentisimpasours]

The Protectors

Summary: Ava and Mel step in to protect you from your mother in different ways.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic family relationships, hospital setting momentarily, word dyke used in poor context, cagna (bitch in Italian), stitches, physical violence, poly relationship[Use of nicknames such as sweet girl, baby girl, princess, angel, babe] Soft! Ava, Protector! Mel Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Melissa x Reader, Ava x Reader, Avamel x Reader, Avamel

Thanks for the encouragement to write this @milfjuulpod and @panerasbox

Masterlist

2k

--~--

You knew the walls of the hospital better than your own home at this point. You had spent your childhood here- learned to read here, cried here, became smaller chipping away at yourself until you were more manageable. Something that didn’t have to be dealt with because there were already so many other problems to deal with. Your own needs were buried so deep down that you weren’t sure you had any. Not really. You were merely a pawn in the game between life and death. 

That had been what you thought before you had met them. Now you understand what it means to stand up for yourself. Especially to protect the ones you love. You walked into the room knowing you should wait but it was simpler to do it this way. By yourself, where the words only had to cut you instead of those you loved.

“Hi mom,” You said barely above a whisper.

She was stretched out on the hospital bed tv remote in hand scrolling through the channels, “About time you got here and alone for once.”

You bristled at the jab but tried to remain calm, “What did the doctor say?”

“Just that I am dying. Like I have been for years and no one seems to care to make me feel any better,” She shrugged not even looking at you.

“They have been trying Mom. They have ran every test in the book and you have done multiple second opinions..”

“So you are saying that I am crazy then?” Your mother hollered at you and you instantly flinched, “That I am just some looney toon making it all up in her head.”

“I never said that,” You replied even though it was a thought that had been lingering in your mind for years. 

“You have always been a terrible liar,” She scoffed, “I swear to god they have been poisoning you. Turning you against me.”

“Who are  the they you are referring to?” You questioned because honestly it could have been anyone at this point. 

“Those women you drag with you everywhere.” “Oh my girlfriends. You know their names. I have been dating them for almost two years now.”

“Well whatever you want to call them. You used to be so obedient before they came around. Now you are full of snide comments and sassy looks. That is not the daughter I raised. A dyke who can’t decide between two women. A disgrace.”

You laughed bitterly, “You didn’t raise me. This hospital did. You were always making yourself sick so you could be here instead of out in the real world actually being a mother. You never wanted me in the first place. I ruined your good looks, career, and marriage. Isn't that what you used to tell me?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that little girl,” She yelled anger making her face beet red.

“It’s all fake mom. You make yourself sick so people will pay attention to you. You narcissistic bitch.”

You felt it hit before you even realized what was happening. The flower pot shattered against you a large slash going down your cheek. You immediately used your hand to cover the gash blood already running through your fingers. 

“Go to hell,” Your mother said through gritted teeth.

“Save me a fucking seat.”

You rushed out of the room, tears already streaming down your face mixing with the blood from your cheek. You burst through the doors of the hospital as your breath began to quicken and your body began to shake. You sank down against the outside wall until you hit the ground with a thud. Knees curling into your chest, you placed your head down and let the panic attack take control. Nails dug into your biceps as you clutched yourself as tightly as you could. You rocked back and forth your back hitting the wall, propelling you back forward. You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard them. 

“I think that is her right there Red,” Ava pointed out an anxious undertone in her voice, “I thought you told her to wait for us before she went in.” “Yeah well, you know how her mom can be. She probably thought she was protecting us by going in alone,” Melissa hissed, the anger evident in her voice, “Looks like we are at stage five disaster already.”

They dropped on either side of you, and the smell of your girlfriends filling your nose. Stale cigarettes and vanilla screamed Melissa. Ava was a mixture of expensive flowery perfume and a touch of whiskey. Together they made a perfect balance of hard and soft that already eased your broken nerves. You were so far in your panic however that no words came out as they blocked you from the outside world.

“Angel, we are here now. We got you,” Melissa whispered, slotting her thigh behind you so that you couldn’t hit the wall anymore.

Ava laid her hands over yours, her thumbs running across the back of your palms, “Come on, sweet girl. Open up a little so we can breathe together.”

You tried to uncurl your fingers, but when it didn’t work, you merely shook your head and tried to rock again. You could feel the blood still running down your cheek seeping into your jeans.  Melissa picked you up as if you were lighter than a feather placing you between her legs. Ava sat on the other side of you, wrapping her legs around Melissa to create a cocoon for you to hide in.

They held you like this for awhile. Ava’s head resting against your arms and Melissa’s against your back. With them protecting you like this you felt that you could conquer anything. They didn’t push you to open up, allowing you to uncurl in your own time. However, when you finally glanced up at Ava her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and fear. 

“Baby girl you are bleeding, a lot.”

“What do you mean she is bleeding?” Melissa asked tipping you back just slightly. 

At the sight of the blood still dribbling from your face a dark fire filled her normal green eyes. You had seen this side of Melissa before but only once. It had been right before she had flipped out hitting a man who had been attempting to flirt with  you and Ava. She had lifted up the nearest chair slamming it down on his back when he didn’t get the hint that both of you weren’t interested. It had knocked him against the bar head hitting the top before he crumpled to the floor. That had been jealousy. This look on your girlfriend’s face was one of protective rage and somehow that seemed ten times scarier.

“This has gotten out of hand. Imma go give that filthy cagna a piece of my mind,” Melissa roared rising to her feet, “Take Y/N in to get that cut looked at. This won’t take long.”

“Red,” Ava said grabbing Melissa’s hand, “Make her fucking regret it.”

Melissa’s face turned into a wicked grin as she stalked back into the hospital. Ava placed a gentle hand on your uninjured cheek. She rubbed her thumb across it gently and you leaned into the contact.  Pressing forward she placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I am so sorry this happened to you baby girl,” She whispered and you could see the tears threatening to form.

 Melissa was always the one to fight for the both of you. Her rage pouring over into a bear type protectiveness. Ava was the other side. A mask of hard armor but soft on the inside. The first to cry when the ones she loved got hurt.  They balanced each other out in the simplest of ways and it made your heart swell.

“I am sorry I went in without you,” You mumbled filled with guilt.

“No baby girl, this isn’t on you. None of this is your fault,” Ava promised, “Now come on let’s get you checked out.”

Fifteen minutes later you were on a gurney getting stitches with Ava holding your hand. Quiet tears were falling down her face for every time you flinched in pain. As the last stitch was being put in Melissa came sauntering over a security guard following close behind her. 

“See I told you Danny boy. My girls are right here. As soon as they patch up my Angel I'll leave,” She said wrapping a protective arm around Ava before kissing the top of her head.

“Okay but you have to leave immediately after Schemmenti. I'm only letting this slide cause that woman has been terrorizing the whole floor for weeks,” He relented.

Melissa promised she would and then turned back to you, “Always good to have friends in high places. How you feel Angel?”

“Better now that you both are here,” You said and flinched when you went to smile.

Melissa wiped away the tears from Ava’s face, “See princess she is okay. We got her.”

The doctor gave follow up instructions to Ava and Melissa who listened intently. Ava was scrawling notes on her phone. She wanted to make sure she didn't miss a single thing. You left with Ava and Mel each holding your hand their bodies pressed close to your side. Sandwiched between them you felt safe and like the world wasn't going to crumble in.

“Princess can drive you home and I'll get some supplies for dinner. I'll make your favorite,” Melissa instructed and went to kiss your cheek but stopped, “Of course it is my cheek that is hurt. Guess I'll have to kiss you somewhere else instead.”

She placed a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, and finally your lips causing you to giggle. She pulled away just enough to send you a smile that melted your heart, “There she is.”

You blushed, “You know I can drive myself home right?”

“No you can’t,” Your girlfriends said in unison.

“Let us take care of you sweet girl,” Ava replied with no room for argument.

You relented and handed your keys to Ava. Melissa gave Ava a goodbye kiss promising to be home soon. Both of you watched until she disappeared around the corner before you navigated to your own car. Ava opened your door leaning to buckle you in before kissing your nose. During the entire car ride she gripped on your thigh. It was like she was trying to ground herself into you. Making sure you wouldn't disappear before her eyes.

“Babe,” You said as you pulled into the house you all shared, “I'm really okay, I promise.”

“She hurt you… physically harmed you. And we weren’t there to protect you,” Ava shook her head, “We promised we would always protect you.”

“You are protecting me,” You promised leaning over to kiss her, “With you and Melissa I will always be safe.”

Ava grinned, “Wanna dance it out?”

“With you? Always.”

Which is how Melissa found both of you when she returned arms full of groceries. The coffee table was pushed to the side allowing for a dance floor in the living room. Ava’s music spilling from the TV. Nothing was louder however then the laughter that came from you and Ava as you danced and jumped around in the clear space. She smiled at the scene before her heart so full with love that it felt lighter. 

“Red!” Ava smiled, “Put down those groceries and come dance.”

She didn't even go to the kitchen just dropped all the bags onto the couch before taking your extended hand. You pulled her close to you Ava cirling around behind you. And pressed close between them you knew that you would be okay. No matter the day. Or situation you had the loves of your life. Hard and soft. Yin and yang. Ava and Melissa.To protect and cherish you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Yelena fic where she comforts depressed reader please 🙏🙏🙏

‘You’ve been in there a while.’ Yelena says, having came to your room to confront you on how you’ve been the past couple of days, everyone could see that something was wrong as they had their own bad days and so the signs were easily recognised amongst your group. Ava, John, Bob, Yelena herself and Alexei were all worried about you but Yelena was the only one who was standing in your doorway, seeing you stare blankly at the wall covered in pictures of the team across from you.

‘It’s my room. I’m allowed to stay here as long as I want.’ You replied barely giving her a glance, almost as though you couldn’t muster up the strength to do so, as though you were better off staring at nothing then looking her in the eye and giving her a glimpse into your mindset. ‘You’ve stayed in here too long. I made mac and cheese.’ Yelena continues as she moved into your room, taking note of how you barely let any light in, the closed curtains snuffed any chances of it coming through and your light looked as though you had intentionally shot it to bits; acting as if the light was personally mocking you for being so bright despite it’s purpose to be made to illuminate a room.

‘Not hungry.’ You say but Yelena wasn’t about to give in and walk out because of your short responses. ‘You’ve been ‘not hungry’ for a couple of days, everyone is starting to get concerned.’ She tells you as she takes a seat next to you but also being conscious in keeping some space between you two, not wanting to make you feel more suffocated than you already were. You were stubborn when it came to admitting to what was wrong- just like the rest of the Thunderbolts- but surly Yelena knew that you could open up to any of them but yet you didn’t and that in lies the issue, an issue of which Yelena wanted to get to the bottom of.

You shrugged unbothered, staring at the picture of yourself, Bob, Ava and Alexei having an unprompted self care day with face masks and everything, a moment you loved but yet as you looked upon it now you felt nothing but a void where your feelings should be. ‘I’m worth no one’s concern, whatever happens to me is by my own hand and no one should feel accountable for not knowing,’ you then finally looked at Yelena who looked at you with worry and concern. ‘it’s something I decided on my own, so the accountability for what happens to me is my own, for good or for worse.’ You added and Yelena felt as though she’s heard this all before, from her own mouth but hearing it come from yours only made her sick to her stomach at the implications.

‘You’re not alone in this, I thought we talked about that.’ Yelena said, looking into your eyes and seeing nothing but a darkness that you had allowed to be consumed by, to be overwhelmed with the longer you isolated yourself from the other’s warmth, from her warmth to pull you back from the ledge. ‘Everyone here needs you.’ Yelena continued as she points to the pictures on your wall as though to get it through your thick skull of the rag tag team that she knew you’d trade your life for in a heartbeat and they’d do so tenfold. ‘Alexei, Bob, Ava, John- Me! I need you!’ She cries as she grips your hands in hers tightly, holding onto hope that she wasn’t going to lose you like she had lost everything else.

Yelena couldn’t imagine anyone else wrangling the others together than you, someone who she could count on and trust to have her back on countless missions, bringing a sense of normality to the Thunderbolts that they sorely needed. She needed you to be that grounding force for them but for her and more importantly yourself, she couldn't let you go now that she was gripping you so tightly, silently and outright begging you to stay here with her and the others. And while you might not view yourself important to the group but you didn't see how she and the rest of the group saw you, they saw you as their heart, their glue and their valued teammate who reminded them that they were all human with flaws darker then most but still worthy in their own right.

She had seen how the team would look over your empty seat in the living room, missing your warmth and laughter that filled the room, uplifting them that if they could make you smile then everything was okay and going to be okay. You were her reminder that she could never be so bad, not when you hold her and smile at her like it was instinct to do so, like you could see her for her ans not the blood on her ledger. Now Yelena wanted to do what you've done countless time for others, not becuase she felt like she had to but becuase she needed to so deeply, for loosing you would make her feel as though another important part of herslef was taken unfairly from her and a part that was incredibly integral to her.

'i need you.' she echos, her grip on your hands tighening as though she was scared you'd slip through her fingers like sand. 'You are so much more then what your mind tricks you into thinking you are, for to me you are a ray of hope for better tomrrows, someone i could only to become more like each and every day i get to see just how brightly you shine and you shine.' she adds as she moved closer to you.

'i don't know what you mean-' you began

'then let me tell you.' Yelena cuts you off, feeling as though she was gradually pulling you away from that all too tempting ledge when you allowed her by squeezing her hands in a wordless response. 'You are our heart, our glue and the one who holds us all together despite knowing how difficult and impossible it all is, and yet you make the impossible seem possible with how effortlessly you can get us to be agreeable on something as silly and small. It's like your gift to bring people together, reaching your hand out with empathy and understanding.' Yelena lists off as you watched her closely for lies.

You felt the weight upon your chest start to lift, allowing room for belief to flood in and let her words sink into you, casting away any shadows of doubts that you would have regarding Yelena's words and start to see the worth you withheld on multiple levels. You looked at the picutres on your wall and instead of feeling that void that you had felt for a long while now, you felt hope and a warmth upon looking at the images of pranks played on john with Ava, book club time with Bob, making mac and cheese with Yelena and doing silly shit with Alexei.

They were your family that you fought with and foought for tooth and nail to protect, you knew you couldn't leave them just yet when you needed them as much as they needed you.

'You're all capable of being that in due time.' You tell her. 'im merely showing you the way to do so and letting you all take your own paths in getting there.i'm not that perfect.' you added, giving her a smile, letting her know that her little speach was having it's effect.

'perfect is over rated.' Yelena replied, nudging you playfully with her shoulder, happy that something was taking affect within you, lifting that fog within your mind and moving it elsewhere since while depression can go for a bit, it will always come back but Yelena would always be there to combat it alongside you. 'besides who's going to help me keepall of them together from doing something stupid?' She rhetorically asks you as you couldn't help but laugh as the questionable desicions that you've all made in the past on missions, all of them just being as memorable as the last.

'remeber when Alexei insisted on me using you all as a makeshift ladder, just to get through some vents and open the door that we thought was locked?' you asked. Yelena laughs, tilting her head back at she too recalls the memory. 'only for Ava to open the door and all of us to collapse into a pile, with John on the bottom ironcally? Yeah not our smartest move.' she says as you both calmed down from laughing, a welcoming warmth and lightheartedness filling the dark room, thew weight further lifting from your chest as you felt yourself able to breath and smile once again in thanks to Yelena.

'I feel like i can't leave you to your own devices sometimes.' You said after a moment of silence. 'i fear what you lot will do without me to either join in our of boredom or get us all back on track.' you added as Yelena shuffled closer to you, your sides pressed into one another as her thumbs caressed the backs of your hands, where you could feel all her callouses agaisnt your own and using them as a reminder that this was all real.

'Then don't.' Yelena says straight forwardly, resting her forhead agaisnt yours, looking into your eyes. 'stay here, stay with me and stay with them,' she gestures to the photos on your walls once again, 'stay being our heart and our glue that keeps this group together, we're here for you no matter what okay? you'll never be alone with us for your stuck with us and you'll never be rid of us even if you want to somedays.' She finshes and you pushed your head futher against hers, feeling that last of the weight lift from your chest, freeing you from the cage you had found yourself prisoner within; feeling the ability to fly freely again with your teammates and friends that you once wouldn't defend but would now knowing they'd return the favour.

'How unfortunate of a fate that i'm stuck with all of you losers.' you joked lightheardly, knowing you never wanted to be stuck with another group of people that weren't going to make you feel apart of something, like you could lean on them and have them lean on you, never left to feel like a burden who can't do anything but instead reminded of the person you were in their eyes.

'how unfotunate indeed,' Yelena jokes back, 'but i know you're not complaining. you love us.'

'tragically i do and that is my achilles heel.' you both lingered there for a good while, feeling the others presence and being content with not being okay, being content with having people who were also not okay and knowing that you can accept not being perfectly happy all the time with them without judgment. You accepted that you'd all go down with the ship together becuase you were all stubborn and refuse to leave one another behind, rather risking loosing it all then lossing one another.

'and we love you too, now come and get some mac and cheese before John or Alexei hog it all to themsleves.' Yelena stats as she stands up, holding out her hand to you like you did to her a long time ago when the team was first formed, smiling when you took a hold of it and allowed her to pull you out of the darkness of your room and into the light of the hallway where you could hear your teammates and family calling from a distance.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ idol exboyfriend!yoongi⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

exes / idol au

scenario is: drunk and yearning yoongi

slight angst

//

yoongi stumbles next to you, steps uneven on the sidewalk, his shoulder brushing yours every few feet. the city lights flicker behind you two, making it more than obvious that it’s 3am. 

“you live ten minutes away,” you mutter, not looking at him. “you couldn’t walk home alone? you really had to get your ex-girlfriend to come walk you?”

he doesn’t answer. just lets out a breath that fogs in the night air.

you glance sideways. 

“come on, yoongi. entertain me a little. you miss me or something?”

“yeah.”

it’s soft. 

he says it like it wasn’t meant to be said aloud. but it was. it’s out in the cold air and for some reason, warms your heart. tugs it a bit. makes you a little sad — but also relieves it. 

you don’t say anything to him. 

instead, you keep walking. 

it’s not long before yoongi falls behind again — like he always does when he’s trying to say something but can’t. you don’t wait for him. not really. just slow down enough that the silence starts to ache.

as he trails behind you, all he can think about is how much he wants to take your hand. how much he wants to tell you he shouldn’t have stayed late at the studio all those nights. shouldn’t have let you fall asleep alone. should’ve kissed you longer in the mornings, even when he was tired. should’ve picked up the tulips you liked from that corner shop. he should’ve loved you better.

but yoongi doesn't say any of that.

partly because he has drunk texted those exact words to you last week… and the week before. and the week before that week and so on. what can he say? he’s an honest man. 

when you reach his place, you punch in the code without asking. the door clicks open like your body still remembers.

you hold the door open. 

“goodnight, yoongi.”

he lingers in the doorway.

“___… i—”

you sigh. exhausted. “i’m tired, yoongi. i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep—”

“i know.” he’s still slurring, but quieter now. eyes down. “i know… so let’s just… can we stop?”

“…stop?”

his voice is smaller now. “stop not being together.”

you stare at him. he sways slightly, head hung low.

but you don’t reply.

at least, not with words. 

instead, you step inside his home. you don’t speak as you help him to the bathroom. just move around him like muscle memory — towel over the rack, warm water turned on, his toothbrush set out beside the sink. he peels off his clothes slowly, dragging fabric over skin like it weighs more than it should.

you don’t look.

you just whisper, “don’t fall asleep in there,” and close the door behind you.

then, yoongi showers.

he lets the steam choke the scent of whiskey off his skin — lets the water pour down his neck until his chest starts to hurt in that familiar way it does when he thinks too long about you. 

about all the ways he lost you.

about how it’s his fault. how he should’ve tried harder, and this is just a stupid classic cliche about the guy who didn’t know what he had until he lost it. though cliche, he never knew how much it would hurt. how much missing you would plunge into his heart and leave him aching. 

when he steps out, yoongi dries his hair half-heartedly, towel rough against damp strands. he thinks he hears you leave. his heart drops, but he doesn’t feel any resentment. if you want to go, you should go. 

he just wishes you’d stay one of these nights. 

… but when he pads out of the bathroom, shirt clinging to his still-wet back, he sees you.

you’re curled up on top of his sheets, fast asleep.

you didn’t leave.

his heart stutters at the sight. 

something about the slope of your back. your socked foot dangling slightly off the edge of the mattress. your fingers twitching in sleep, like you’re reaching for something even now.

yoongi climbs in gently. like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. he slides under the covers without a sound, his body inching toward yours little by little until his forehead rests against your shoulder blade.

and then — slowly — he wraps his arm around your waist.

he waits.

for rejection — for anything.

but your hand finds his. you guide him closer. and then, in a voice so soft it barely breaks the silence—

“i miss you too.”

[redisaid]

In Dreams 4

An Interlude: Marble and Stone

Oops. I put Valadrin smut in this Sylvaina fic. It's me. You knew it would happen sooner or later.

NSFW

3828 Words

Read it on Ao3!

I’m holy alone With filth-ridden fever dreams Oh, she sings Prayers without words, yet she worships me

“Not now.”

Two words greet her like scathing accusations. Valeera knows they aren’t for her. Still, they sting a little.

Not in a bad way.

She knows she isn’t the only visitor Liadrin gets in her dreams. Sylvanas had just been by. Valeera had been tailing her, after all. It was interesting to see how she delayed her inevitable nightly trips to Jaina Proudmoore’s dreams.

Tonight, Liadrin is the sculptor again. Tomorrow, she might be something else. Her dreams are always very serious and focused things. Sometimes, Valeera will watch them for a while before she disturbs them.

She has watched countless sermons, stayed late in an office to find Liadrin pouring over ledgers and accounts, and has seen this statue come to life many times over. Valeera knows the finished product always looks like her, and she should be flattered by the fact.

She isn’t. Worship isn’t a thing she enjoys. Attention, yes, but that’s different. Very different.

But she isn’t here for any of that. If there’s one thing she can be honest with herself about, it’s the very reason she’s willing to join anyone’s Void dream: curiosity.

“Not even for me?” Valeera asks.

She’s not supposed to say this. She can feel the dream resisting her, threatening to pop like a bubble around the disturbance of her very existence. She wonders if this is what it was like for those that tried to free her from her own sleep. But that’s another thing she won’t entertain thinking deeply on. Not now.

Still, against her own grain, Liadrin turns. She looks at her. The flash in her golden eyes tells Valeera her voice is familiar to her, even in this scenario. Valeera knows it is. Still, she likes this attention.

It’s what she’s come for, after all. Curiosity is second place in this particular dream.

Valeera knows the feeling of those dusty, calloused hands on her skin. It’s not so different from life. It’s why she chooses to visit her sometimes lover in her dreams. She craves familiar satisfaction in new and exciting flavors.

Mostly, she craves people. Not enough of them are awake. Reality is bleak and barren, but Liadrin’s dreams always have a sense of containment to them that makes a world with a population of two seem comfortable. And they are temporary. The state of the world is not. Well, maybe.

That’s not up to Valeera. Not tonight. Probably not ever.

She hangs on the doorway to Liadrin’s workshop, lingering and wondering if the other woman has any awareness of her comings and goings. Surely, she never fucks her like it’s the first time. At least there’s that.

“For you, maybe not,” Liadrin replies.

The stiffness of her long, ruddy brows softens a little. It makes Valeera want to lunge forward and give her a reason to scowl again. But she doesn’t.

“Only maybe?” Valeera asks. “I think I’ve earned more than that.”

She tests dreams subtly. It is an art to her. A gift.

Sylvanas and her Forsaken advise others to be direct and honest when attempting to wake others--to tell them what’s going on outside, to remind them of friends and family. Valeera thinks these are terrible ideas.

She remembers what it’s like to sleep and not to want to wake. If she knew what waited for her on the other side, well, she still might be sleeping.

Sometimes, the illusion is better than the truth. It’s like how Sylvanas pretends not to see her stalking around her on the battlefield at night. It’s the same as how Valeera pretends her stomach doesn’t turn into knots as she witnesses the younger Windrunner sister crying in camp when she thinks she’s alone. At least Vereesa has left for Dalaran again now, and there’s no chance of such an encounter happening again for a while.

Still, she wants acknowledgement. She craves understanding. Tell me you know me, Liadrin, she thinks. Tell me you haven’t forgotten me.

Liadrin doesn’t say anything. She rubs her hands together, attempting to wipe the dust from them, but only grinding chips of marble into her skin further. Valeera knows what they feel like--the texture of microscopic stone on her. She wants for many things, but that grain on her skin at least is easy to get.

Only after this does Liadrin say, “I suppose I can take a break. For you.”

Tonight, the statue is only half done. It’s roughed-out marble in the vague shape of an elf. The face isn’t detailed, but Liadrin has begun to focus instead on the folds of her dress. This version is seated and regal. Sometimes, the stone Valeera is dancing, praying, singing.

She is and does none of these things.

Valeera looks down at her own simple clothes--elven in make and all red silk. Her blouse is low cut and she wears nothing under the skirt. The dream, at this point, must know what she’s here for. Or maybe it is her will made manifest. She will have to remember to pry the thoughts out of some Dark Ranger or Apothecary. Only the undead seem to know the true extent of it all, or at least are the only ones willing to offer up their theories.

Maybe Sylvanas isn’t going to Jaina for the same thing Valeera visits Liadrin for. Maybe she’s just that desperate for someone intelligent to wake up and have an opinion about things.

Liadrin wears a sleeveless shirt--its beige cloth dusted with white. Holy on holy, even if the muscles those vestments hide are anything but.

Valeera doesn’t give her time for anything else. She’s seen how this plays out. If she lets things linger on--lets Liadrin lead, she will just start making her tea. She will try to talk to Valeera, but Liadrin has always been miserable at small talk. She’ll resort to gestures to show her interest and what Valeera refuses to acknowledge as affection. She’s an acts of service kind of woman, after all. Eventually, the tea will lead to fucking. Eventually.

Liadrin will whisper in her ear to ask her what she wants and Valeera will tell her and she’ll be bent over a workbench, hands gripping detail work and moulding pieces while Liadrin fucks her. It’s a fine way to spend an evening, sure, but not what she wants tonight.

Tonight, she experiments. Tonight, she tests limits. Tonight, Valeera doesn’t let her get over to the little hot plate. She doesn’t let Liadrin take a single step.

She kisses her, hard. Their teeth collide and click for it--elven fang to elven fang.

Valeera disrupts with her tongue. She dissents with her teeth. She rejects this vision for another, but grounds it in what they’ve always had. The dream doesn’t change. Reality doesn’t blink and become something else around her--some new sick scenario.

No, Liadrin whimpers into her mouth. It comes out like a question, and Valeera answers it with a bite.

It reminds Valeera of how they met in the real world. She is not usually the aggressor in sex and rarely has to work hard to get people to want her. Liadrin, though, she had to kiss first. Despite the fire burning behind those holy eyes, Valeera had to push past the restraint that kept it inside. She did so gladly, and upon their second meeting, Liadrin did not need her to do it again.

They had, and even in here, still have a sort of understanding. Valeera is always quick to establish the boundary of sex only. With other partners, it’s easier, because she doesn’t come back to them. Liadrin and her rough hands and hidden strength are nearly as addicting as the magic that draws all elves. Her holy wickedness beckons Valeera as any addiction on offer eventually does.

She cannot help it. It is in her blood, and she has none of Liadrin’s control or self-discipline.

Her lack thereof encourages Liadrin to drop it and all other pretenses. Even now, in this dream, her clear direction provides Liadrin with the means to an end. Her weakness and wavering is brief and fleeting. It’s maybe only a second or two before the whimpering moan ends and Liadrin is kissing her back just as hard.

In life and in dreams, Liadrin is just as hungry as her. She’s just more comfortable with starving.

Valeera eats her fill, grinning into the nips made against her own lips and the firm grip that encircles her and presses her to Liadrin. One hand finds her ass and she bemoans the skirt keeping her from its warmth. But still, it reminds her she’s here to change the course.

She breaks their kiss to run her teeth along Liadrin’s neck, telling her, “You want a break? Let me give you one.”

Valeera rests her cheek against Liadrin’s shoulder as her eyes scan the room. She should have it memorized by now. Liadrin’s dreams rarely change much.

Valeera’s didn’t change much either.

But there are no chairs and she needs one. There’s a low stool and a ladder. None of these will do.

There is, however, the lap of the seated statue. A smile curves Valeera’s lips against Liadrin’s dusty skin. She can be holy and wicked at the same time too. Perhaps more wicked, but it suits her.

She takes hold of Liadrin’s hips. She’s much smaller than her--forever petite from a childhood spent in the throes of malnourishment--and the dream gives her no new height or heft, but Valeera is strong in her own way. She suggests and others follow, even if they don’t realize she is suggesting and they are following.

Liadrin, for her part, is the one she comes back to because she knows both how to lead and how to follow and when to do both.

“Insistent today, aren’t we?” Liadrin asks as she dutifully allows herself to be backed into marble legs and gathered skirts of stone.

“I just want you.”

It’s both the devastating truth and a deflection of anything but. Valeera doesn’t let herself dwell on the words. It’s better when they mean nothing. Sex is the same.

She licks the powdered stone from Liadrin’s neck when she’s fully backed into the statue. It tastes of chalk and earth and sweat. Veins and sinew beneath tremble, just slightly, as Liadrin shifts to regain some control in the matter. She grabs Valeera’s ass again, this time as if to lift her. It would be easy for her. They’ve done it before--here in the sculptor’s workshop, in the quiet of a darkened church, at an inn in Dalaran and another in Dazar’alor, and even at that high school dance from Valeera’s dreams.

No. She’s not going to think about that. It’s over. It’s done. It was a trick. It was a terrible, awful thing done to her, among the list of many terrible, awful things have been done to her in her relatively short life.

She’s not going to let the Void win. Not there, not here. No one can tell her what to do, and nothing can hold her life in chains ever again.

Valeera grabs Liadrin’s wrists. “No, I said I’m giving you a break. Sit,” she commands, pointing with a nod to the statue’s lap.

So many things flash in the golden eyes looking down at her. Confusion mixes with a bright spark of shame. Pupils dart to lovingly crafted marble folds, then back at Valeera’s legs and seem to find their skirts unbearably similar--even though the statue’s are a classic sort of toga and Valeera is wearing red silk with a slit that goes dangerously high.

That same slit lets her swing her leg out wide, capturing Liadrin with her small frame as she pushes at her chest. It doesn’t come off playful, and Valeera supposes it’s not. She’s here because she has needs. The real world doesn’t meet them anymore.

Liadrin lets herself fall, measured and slow, carefully onto the lap of the statue that will eventually come to resemble the woman in front of her.

Valeera doesn’t give her a second to breathe or question it. She kneels, pulling off boots in a frenzy, tugging leggings with them. Her lips leave hot trails where Liadrin’s pants were, and savor each quiver of long muscles beneath. How they snap and shake like taut bowstrings--it would be enough to make a ranger blush, but not a rogue.

The dream threatens her every move. It’s almost as erotic as the way Liadrin shakes for her. Valeera can feel it reform and reshape itself around her, trying to carry the continuity along with how she’s changing things. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a sheet falling off of a statue that was once covered in a corner, revealing a less than tasteful nude. The lap that Liadrin sits in now has a higher slit on its own toga skirt and more defined, rounded thighs. The Void seems to be fine with the distraction of sex, so long as it remains a distraction.

Valeera can agree with that. Sex is the best distraction of all.

She shrugs out of her blouse and steps out of her skirt as she rises, bare and bold, to sit in both Liadrin’s lap and that of the marble version of herself.

“You stay right there,” Valeera challenges her as she lifts Liadrin’s shirt up, desperate to press skin to more skin. “And you let me do what I want to you.”

Liadrin says nothing. She’s staring at Valeera like she’s a goddess made manifest--a statue come to life to bless the weary hands of the sculptor.

Valeera is not any of that, but she blesses Liadrin’s hands all the same, lifting them to her breasts to grant a silent permission. Liadrin’s ascent comes in a gentle grasp--almost too gentle. But that’s why Valeera comes back. It’s why she always comes back.

In her dream, they were young and Liadrin was even gentler. They’d dance once to a slow song that Liadrin guilted her into. It would happen just after Valeera would spike the punch with Lillian Voss and Vanessa VanCleef. She’d sneak Liadrin away to the spot under the bleachers where she’d smoke weed with the other rogues and she’d be so gentle with her. So good. So polite. So awed as she made Valeera squirm when she’d snake her fingers past the gathered skirts of her prom dress.

It’s not so different now. In Valeera’s dream, all these things made sense. In Liadrin’s, they make sense to her. It’s all so simple that way.

Part of Valeera doesn’t want to ruin it for Liadrin the way Anduin had ruined it for her. He’d interrupt her dance with Liadrin every time, cutting in and taking her hand and talking to her about things from Azeroth as they shuffled around beneath a canopy of colorful balloons and twinkle lights. In the dream, those things didn’t make sense to her. In the dream, she just wanted to fuck around with her friends and have Liadrin fuck her soft and slow under the bleachers.

As much as she hates the illusion and the sinisterness of it all, she misses it.

So she dwells in Liadrin’s dreams and tells herself she’s testing their boundaries.

She kisses her hard and wetly. She pushes her hands into her breasts and demands more. She braces herself against strong shoulders and lets the holy dust of them serve as chalk for her grip.

When Liadrin moans again into her mouth, she slides off her lap, kissing her way down legs again as she pulls at her hips, sliding her forward.

Valeera kneels, finding a place where her knees aren’t being cut by stone chips. Maybe she shouldn’t, though. Maybe she’ll understand Liadrin better if she can experience some of her penance. But no, she has more important things to focus on right now.

Liadrin’s bare legs are warm as she hangs them over her shoulders. The marble is cold as she braces one hand against it and keeps Liadrin flush to her with the other. And she tastes divine. She always has.

Valeera loves this. She loves how worked up Liadrin gets for her. She loves how she falls apart so quickly. Her normal stoic silence devolves quickly into small, needy sounds as Valeera’s tongue speaks barbs into her flesh instead of the air.

Normally, this comes after Valeera is too worn out and too used up to do anything but lick her thanks away. As much as she loves being fucked and fucked hard, she loves the reward at the end. Liadrin is nearly as soaked for her now as she is after fucking her for the better part of an hour. Valeera doesn’t let a drop go to waste. She doesn’t let anything stain the marble or drip down straining thighs.

She doesn’t like to rush. She is thorough and complete in her work--in all things she does, honestly. Eating pussy isn’t too far off from mixing poisons or torturing a man until he gives up his half-baked assassination plot. Each has their own recipes--a mixture of ingredients and techniques that brings her pleasure in their mastery.

At least two people get to share in the pleasure of this particular act, and get no pain in return.

Liadrin likes a firm and flat tongue and Valeera is happy to provide it. But she lingers. She goes slow. She doesn’t overwhelm or race toward orgasm. No, she carves her own statue from too holy, strong elf. She melts her slowly so she can recast her from molten metal into something harder.

Liadrin lets out a moan in full now, and Valeera opens one green eye to find her head lolling back against the undefined but benevolent face of that elven beauty goddess. The sight does something to her and she doesn’t know what to name it. The image of Liadrin being so cradled by her, so vulnerable and lost in herself and what Valeera can do for her is the best thing she’s ever seen.

Valeera isn’t a praying woman, but she’s starting to understand devotion.

She takes her hand off the stone to reach down and touch herself. She’s wetter than Liadrin even. Need throbs through her as her tongue still works, and her fingers join it in time.

She pants against Liadrin, looking up at her with both eyes open as hands fist themselves into her hair. Liadrin is still gentle even as she’s desperate for something to hold. A thumb grazes Valeera’s ear, a shaking, testing motion, and she’s nearly about to come for it herself.

It’s too much and not enough. She wills her fingers not to speed up with everything she has and her self-discipline only manifests in trying to make sure Liadrin gets off first.

“Fuck,” is the first word Liadrin whispers in a while.

Her thighs squeeze against Valeera’s ears as that thumb continues to explore the ridge of one. Gold eyes open to meet her and watch her. They stare at one another and Valeera grounds herself in the contact.

She’s invisible to everyone, but wants so much to be seen.

“Valeera,” Liadrin mutters quietly.

She comes without much fanfare. There’s a low groan she bites back and her eyes flutter closed for a moment. Her thighs squeeze hard, but she’s conscious enough even in her orgasm to make sure they’re not hurting Valeera.

Despite the muted nature of her spilling over, Valeera feels so powerful for it. She’s lit up like a mage light inside, buzzing. She moans for Liadrin and into her as she brings her down. Her fingers twist within herself as she feels her walls tighten around them. She joins her sometimes lover in ecstasy and muffles her far more passionate cries into her cunt.

The world goes white for a moment, and Valeera thinks she might have lost to the dream at the end. Oh well, at least she got off.

But then she blinks and Liadrin is lifting her up off of the stone. She’s lifting her into her manifold of laps. Her calloused fingers are helping to bring Valeera down and back up again.

They slip into her just as words of praise slip into her ears. “That was so fucking good,” Liadrin tells her as she starts to fuck her, “You’re so good with your mouth.”

Valeera is too lost in it all to fight. She accepts. She relents. She lets herself be fucked because it’s good and gentle and the rumble of Liadrin’s deep voice against her chest is the most soothing thing in the world.

She wants to dance with her at prom again. She wants to fuck her in the Dalaran sewers. She wants so much. She needs it all.

Valeera doesn’t want to be alone.

In reality, she is so alone. Anduin doesn’t understand what he’s done to her, what he took from her. He thinks he’s saved her, and he has. But Valeera understands freedom in a way he can never comprehend. He’s never been a slave. He’s never had to fight for his life. He’s never traded another’s blood for his bread.

Valeera needs someone else who understands this. Varian is dead and Broll still sleeps. Jaina sleeps and her dreams are boring unless you’re Sylvanas Windrunner. Liadrin hasn’t ever had to kill someone to please a crowd, but her gold eyes are stained with something close to what makes Valeera’s a sickly green. It’s close enough. It’s another reason she keeps coming back to her.

But she’s here, sleeping. And Valeera might be close to coming again, but she will have to wake up and face the day. She will have to go soon, lest Sylvanas stirs before her nearby.

“Tell me you won’t forget this,” Valeera breathes against Liadrin’s shoulder.

Holy dust has been replaced by sweat and the marks Valeera left behind with both teeth and nails. These changes don’t still the ministrations of Liadrin’s arm and fingers. She is freer for them, filthier in her cleanliness.

“I could never forget you,” Liadrin tells her as she holds her tighter.

Valeera is too cowardly to ask her to wake. She can persist on the dreams. She has Liadrin to herself here, and doesn’t have to share her with the world. She doesn’t have to sneak into the places she knows she’ll be. She doesn’t have to memorize her schedule. She doesn’t have to insist on the attention she craves from her. She can get it every night, if she wants.

Valeera comes again, bearing down and bottoming out on Liadrin’s three fingers. She cries out into a kiss she locks them in, and tears herself from the dream before her own guilt can catch up to her.

[pineconepie]

Since you posted your ocs heights I can’t stop wondering how the ocs would react/deal with a reader taller then them. Would it bother them? Also I love the idea of reader bullying the ocs for being shorter “What’s that? Hm can’t hear you from all the way down there”. Just reader being a little shit over being taller even if it’s just by like an inch! XD

I posted the funniest reactions in my opinion:

Octavian would be genuinely happy that you like your height, even when you tease him for it. "I'm so happy you're content with your height, dear, I love that about you".

He knows he's stronger than you either way, so he's not bothered in the slightest. You'll always be his baby even if you're a hundred foot tall monster <3

.

Hugo would find it amusing whenever you tease him, because your relationship is kind of back and forth teasing half the time, all lighthearted ofc.

He'd flip the jokes back on you a lot, to be annoying lol. "What? Sorry, kiddo, I can't hear you from your towering figure over my mere six-foot-two height. Can you speak up?" Even if you're also just an inch taller LOL.

.

Ellis gets teased for his height often and it annoys him, but with you, he'd be a lot more relaxed about it. He'd try to suppress a laugh and reply, "oh, honey, I'm happy you feel confident, but it really isn't hard being taller than me. But hey, what ever makes you feel better about yourself."

He's normally not a guy who likes to tease that much, but he'd have some fun having playful conversations like those lol. Anyone else who makes fun of his height is getting in trouble though,,,

.

Dante huffs and pretends to be offended, but you can tell he's not. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I heard somewhere that the shorter you are, the closer to hell you are, so I'd be careful if I were you, kid."

He'd give a playful menacing look, but since he's kind of naturally scary, he'd internally panic if he actually scared you ^^;

.

Cecil would be amazed if you were somehow taller than him, since 6'4 is already pretty tall. He couldn't even be offended, he'd be too shocked to really get offended or tease you back.

"I thought I was tall, gosh! Well, can't beat that. You win. I think we should go to the diner to celebrate your height." He just really likes an excuse to get a milkshake and spend more time with you.

[erwinsvow]

alright, cheater!sammy annon here. we can totally reach a compromise (which thank you because this is your blog after all your could have just ignored me and that's was going to be alright too but I find it really fun to share creative ideas with other people!!) maybe reader won't admit it but she does get off on the fact that he is married... likes to feel the cold metal of his wedding ring... and the car sex (in his patrol car nonetheless!) is literally the best thing I heard in a while. he parks it in a spot he knows no one is going to bother them. and they are both so desperate for it ends up being real nasty. Poor guy whoever gets arrested and thrown in there the day after

omg hi bestie girl i'm sorry this took so long to reply to it's been a week and it's only tuesday. omg of course!!! i love yapping with you guys it's actually the best. and i'm so thankful when people take the time to reply and send ideas because it's so much more fun than me just yapping my thoughts all day which i do anyways.

i literally hope you know i have not stopped thinking about cheating sammy aus since you sent the first one. like somehow everything is just so much more.... !!!!. my eyes have been opened and i see the light. sammy trying so hard to avoid being a stereotypical cop husband stepping out on his wife with a cute young girl he has no business being with. !!! reader being a stereotypical sweetheart who disparages her friends who stay with their cheating boyfriends and thinks they should grow a pair and do better. suddenly having no qualms when it comes to one samuel bryant who has a half-way fallen apart marriage when they meet, though it seems like maybe things might be salvageable. (you hope they're not—in the last weeks of the time you've known each other, you've been hearing the stories. things are definitely not salvageable, and you honestly don't like the woman very much, though you still haven't sunken to that level that you've always talked so much shit about. but you can't pretend any longer that the thoughts don't plague you, something like sticking it to his wife and fucking her husband anyways, it's not like you both don't want to. you're just being good, decent people. or something like that.)

i think you and sammy stumble into each other's lives because you work at the hospital—i say a nurse but it can be anything—and he's there often enough. you're very good with your patients, very nice to the detectives and officers (him, more than any of the others. even more than nate, who pretty nurses often find trouble resisting.) and he's very stressed out and always on the phone and you maybe overhear it one day in the lobby when you're coming to update him on the patient—you hear yelling on the other line and a man who looks like there's not much waiting for him at home, at least nothing that will make him happy, and you glance at the wedding ring he fiddles with when he talks to you and you kind of.. let it be. for now.

and then maybe there's a bar you and some friends like to go to after work when you have some days off. it's notorious for badge bunnies—all the cops go there after hours and you have a friend who's into that sort of thing. and so the next time you see sammy, he's drinking a beer by the bar and his tie is loosened and his sleeves are rolled up and he's with that other detective your recognize. and you're wearing a skirt that's way too short for his sentences to be coherent, though somehow you two end up in a booth alone and you just.. talk. for hours. about his wife and his dog and you talk about work and your patients and your friends and whatever else comes up. to the point where the officers he came with stare in the general direction, murmur to each other. your friends stare too, especially the badge bunny one, though she's occupied before long. you stay until the bar closes, and he drives you home, and you linger in his passenger seat for far too long.

and then another night in the bar. he hears about this kitten you have at home and the patients you helped today and how you're tired of your noisy neighbor but it's so much better than when you had a roommate last year. he talks about if your cat would like his dog and how castaic is quiet and you tell him it sounds really nice, that you'd like to go there someday. and then dinner—burgers and soda after both of your shifts got off. his wife calls in the middle of it, and he walks away to answer but you hear something about working late and eating with the boys. and surprisingly, you don't feel mad. or uncomfortable. or anything. you feel like you want her to hang up so he can come back and finish the story he was telling you about the arrest they made this week and the case they're working on.

and then maybe you're working at the hospital when janila's grandmother gets shot... sees how sweet and gentle you are with her, getting her cups of water and sneaking her the good snacks, finding ways for her to stay longer with her grandma even though it's not allowed. the guard has a hard time saying no to you (just like sammy does) as does the charge nurse and everyone else that works there. and then at end of shift when sammy takes janila home with him, you stop and ask if there's anything you can do to help and you really mean it, not just saying it, and you're probably so tired after twelve on that your eyes hurt but you still offer, still hug the girl goodbye like you didn't just meet her.

and then he gets this internal monologue going—how his own wife can't watch this poor girl and you're offering even when you have nothing to offer. and then he gets something else going—how is it that he's felt more relaxed with you in a month or two than he has with his own wife in years? that during that one random weekend he took richter to the park and met you there for coffee, that his dog curled up next to you like he'd known you for years?

and then after one of those late-night dinner again, this time at a 24 hour diner where you get fries and offer him half without him asking and take sips of his milkshake and share his straw, you say something like "so you think you're gonna get divorced?" and he tries to explain himself, thinking that of course a nice, sweet girl like you was going to have issues with whatever the hell is between you two and ask questions that he can't answer eventually.

and then you say "well, i don't really want to wait for your divorce any longer." and he thinks great, that he's fucked up the one thing in his life he's been really looking forward to—your late dinners and early weekend mornings and hours talking and somehow never running out of things to talk about. and then you look at him while he tries to stutter out some sort of answer and you just sort of roll your eyes and finish your meal and walk back to his car with him, where he opens the door like always. and he says he'll bring you home but you just stare at him while he drives—you two spend a lot of your time in his car and you like watching him drive, like watching his arms flex under his rolled up sleeves while he pulls out and like how he swings his arm behind your headrest when he reverses. and he pulls in front of your apartment and he runs a hand through his hair after putting it in park and slowly tries to explain himself again. a jumbled up sentence about how he's not that kind of guy but he can't stop thinking about you and you actually don't know when it happened, but you end up leaning in for a kiss. or he ends up leaning in a for a kiss. and then he pulls into some shaded street and you crawl into his lap in the driver's seat and stay like that until you end up in the back getting your guts rearranged by this married cop who has somehow become the person you want to tell everything to.

and then your dinners and occasional mornings turn into make out sessions in his car and getting fingered until that cool metal of his ring is covered in your cum and your entire body is pliant and exhausted and he kisses you like you're his, and you've fucked in every position that it's possible to fuck in the backseat of his patrol car. there's a questionable stain and the car smells like sex so he has to keep the windows down and act innocent when someone says something. and that's all i got so far :)

[castielsprostate]

mr prostate, may i ask you to explain to me how tumblr interaction works? (the thing is that i actually spent less than two years here -registered a long time ago, when i didn’t know english at all, and now i’ve returned, but i still don’t fully understand how the system works)

when reposting with addition, when is it better to use text and when is it better to use hashtags? i understand that tags aren't continuing so someone can repost "clean" post after my repost, but you can also repost it clean if you go right to op blog... what, um... ethical/aestetical significance do tags have? why everyone are using it? does it, like, simulate mumbling or thoughts that should not be voiced?.. also i find it a little uncomfy when someone puts "prev" in tags and you should dig in to find this prev, and then older prev, and again and again...

also i understand that if i don't want my quote to be reglogged and only want to interact with autor/comments, i should write a comment, right?

and what the "queue" means in tags? sorry i'm so stupid please initiate me into the tumblr communication mystery

please don't apologise!!! tumblr is a very unique type of social media and it has a bit of a learning curve!!

in the earlier days it was actually the norm to add a comment to the reblog instead of the tags, and tags were solely for organisation (like a tracking tag, or a character tag, etc.) but when tumblr changed the layout, i think around 20...14? where it didn't look like a conversation anymore, with millions of lines, is when tags slowly got more popular to talk in than a reblog comment. people also started to get kind of annoyed with reblog additions like "never not reblogging this" and opted to just. use the tags instead.

the only real difference is the way it looks, and if you want to search for a specific tag you might get a lot of clutter, but there isn't really any difference aside from 'aesthetics'. so just do what you want to do! this is your internet space and you can do with it whatever you want!! people can also easily reblog something without an addition by indeed going to op's blog, or just clicking "hide reblogs" when reblogging.

prev means previous tags and they're quite easy to track down, unfortunately there isn't much you can do to stop people from saying prev if they agree with your tags djdjd. to find prev tags easier, you just click on the 3 dots and then "view previous reblog"

comments/notes are indeed the most effective way to only communicate towards the op (or also the person that reblogged it if commenting on their reblog), but other people can still reply to your notes. though, you can also just reblog it and add your comment that way and ignore others interacting with your addition.

when there's a tag referencing a queue (queue and i, in queue we trust, what about queue is real, etc.) it just means that the post was stored for later and posted when the reblogger was asleep or at work for instance. sometimes it's something queued manually (like a birthday thing, specifically set to post on their birthday) or just in order of when it was queued (though it can be shuffled ((queued posts for specific days don't get shuffled))).

just remember that tumblr is for everyone, and there's no right or wrong way to use it (mostly). it's your little corner of the internet, and you get to reblog whatever you find cool, and if you like to express it in comments rather than tags then so be it!! don't let others rain on your parade 💖💖💖

[istherewifiinhell]

do u even remember how we started following each other (the first time) i just saw ur one of my earliest remainingly-visible notes on ny art from TWENTY-TWENTY and im like damn 1. its been that long 2. what did we possibly have in common then kjsf was it just IDs.

literally not a clue. but the date range is about right. if i remember correctly there was a route 'hey that post was turf shit' dm b4 any real convo. 2020 i think? so mutuals? or just one way following? for that long. really have no idea. a real zero fandom overlap at the time. just IDs. and i liked your art.

now im sure you didnt send this to give me a research project but i have a blog so i dont have have a brain so. tracking ur ghost on my posts. earliest confirmed interaction i found. oct 5th 2020. INDEED. image description bitching. there are earlier posts with the suspicious (x) notes but have only (x-1) users in the likes. maybeee there was one other blog who was a regular and deleted/got deleted but... not likely more than that.

oct 8. about shower chairs.

nov 11. loona is group, not a person

nov 13. reading the intercept is hard

dec 11. stars align sweep

suspected interactions: dogs and halloween fireworks (maybe on ur blog or maybe at a different fireworks heavy date?? oct 31, naturally), unrainbows your sprinkles (dec 1)

earliest rbing art: nov 17, dec 3, dec 18, dec 24, dec 27