#i wanted to explore the push and pull forces in billy's life

[teashirt505]

Driver's Remorse // Part I

(original poem)

[magniloquent-raven]

come get yalls snippet of soft dom steve content, i can't get this dynamic out of my head--

billy's never let himself want something like this. he spent his life scraping and clawing for whatever freedom he could reach before it slipped through his fingers. hating every second he was under someone else's thumb, how trapped it made him feel, how small, powerless. weak.

he doesn't like being controlled. forced to bend to someone else's will. it makes him feel like he's failed in some way. like he wasn't good enough, wasn't smart enough to figure out how to get the upper hand.

what he does like is steve harrington. his attention. his affection. the way he smiles. his capacity for forgiveness. his hands. his heart.

he liked it when steve fought him, too. when, for one brief, glorious second, he thought he'd finally gotten under his skin. he got to bask in that fire he always knew was there. it went wrong, so wrong, but he still guiltily held that moment close. fantasized about steve putting his hands on him again.

but when he finally did, it was different. billy always thought he'd give as good as he got. imagined push and pull and friction.

instead, steve crowded into his space and kissed him like he was starving for it, and billy went weak in the knees.

billy had heard the rumours, okay. he...may have actively sought them out. maybe. the stories about how steve treated every girl he was with like a fucking queen. enthusiastically. he was warm and firm and knew what he wanted. he loved making his partners feel good.

and billy always thought it was exaggeration despite the stupid starstruck looks on girls faces when they recounted their whirlwind flings with king goddamn steve. it was just. a small town. and steve probably didn't have to try that hard, considering how much he was packing. chicks were remembering him more fondly than he deserved because their shitty boyfriends couldn't get them off with their tic tac dicks and that was it.

except. no.

steve went and proved him all kinds of wrong when he gave him a first-hand fucking look at how exactly he'd earned his reputation before nancy wheeler came along and took him off the market permanently.

and billy didn't know he'd be so into it. the way steve pushed up against him and coaxed his mouth open with a gentle swipe of his thumb and breathed "you feel so good, you're so fucking good, fuck, billy—" hot against his skin. murmuring praise when billy melted under him, putty in his stupid beautiful hands.

he didn't know it would feel so good to just...let go.

it scares the shit out of him when he realizes. he doesn't talk to steve for a week after that first time. doesn't want to be anywhere near someone with that kind of power over him.

except. except he fucking does and it's a problem. especially since—once billy breaks and goes running back to steve like the needy bitch he is—it escalates from there.

because steve noticed. of course he fucking noticed. he noticed exactly how easily billy surrendered to him and how hard he got for steve's goddamn praise, and it turns out billy's not the only one fucking desperate for more of whatever the hell this is.

and that's a goddamn trip, honestly. billy likes being wanted, but this is something else entirely. he's not just basking in steve's attention like he would someone else's, feeling eyes on his skin, smug but unsatisfied. he's...sinking into it. he's surrounded by it. full and warm and...safe. loved.

he lets steve hold him down. lets him explore. stays still and taut, a white-knuckled grip on the headboard, because steve asked him not to move. promised all kinds of filthy things if he doesn't move a muscle til steve says it's okay.

and he lets steve hurt him. mark him. he fucking begs for it, when steve won't stop touching him softly, teasing him with a glint in his eye, pretending he doesn't know exactly what billy wants.

it still scares him. how much he'll do just to see steve's eyes light up, crinkled at the corners and so, so warm. how much he fucking loves it when steve tells him he did good. it freaks him out that he likes it so much he'll surrender control, if only to steve.

sometimes he wonders if he shouldn't do it at all. the days when his shame bubbles up so far he chokes on it, and he's desperate for a way to make it stop. but he doesn't have to, because the second steve slips his fingers around his wrist, guides him gently and kisses him like he means it, it all goes away.

because maybe this is freedom. not the dangerous kinds he always chased after, behind the wheel of a car, or with someone else's blood staining his knuckles, no, this is...quiet. but it's just as exhilarating.

~~tag liist @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful 💕💕~~

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[whitexwingedxdoves]

just let me hold you   [request]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Younger Reader. Warnings: Swearing, Death of an animal. Summary: After Maggie took you in from the sanctuary, life seemed to be going smoothly until you were confronted by your feelings. A/N: This was my first request, I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. I took inspiration from Hostage & I love you by Billie Eilish to write this, ahaha.

It had been a few weeks since Maggie took you in after Rick had captured Negan. You couldn’t believe your luck. They took care of you, they didn’t expect you to work yourself to the bone for a drop of water. You had helped out where you could but Maggie saw it fit that you’d learn how to hunt. You couldn’t exactly disagree, in fact you were thankful for the opportunity. Your grandfather used to take you on hunting trips when you were young, he said it would teach you patience and how to work for what you needed in life. Though he never actually let you shoot a gun he’d make you watch.

After tightening the laces on your boots you made your way towards the gates to meet with Daryl. You were there when he declined to take you out for a hunt, claiming you’d only slow him down but despite all the arguing, he eventually gave in like he owed Maggie something and he was in no position to say no to her. You saw him waiting by the gate, his bike propped up near the gate as he spoke to one of the blacksmiths. As you approached him, kicking the gravel under your feet, chewing the corner of your mouth waiting for him to finish his conversation. When you caught his eye you shot him a sarcastic smile as you pushed your hands into the back pocket of your jeans. His response was to roll his eyes and climb onto his bike.

“Cm’on” he shouted behind him and like that you straddled the back of his bike and wrapped your arms around his waist for security.

_

 Once you reached your destination, you didn’t waste any time getting off the bike waiting for him to lead the way. “Don’t be buggin’ me. Don’t be touchin’ stuff.” Your eyes rolled at the sound of his groans.

“Anythin’ else, Grandpa” you mocked accordingly, his eyes staring a hole into your soul.

“Keep close” he snarled before leading the way into the forest. You kept quiet, watching the way he tracked, every so often he’d ask you what you could see and you’d respond with obvious signs of an animal or a walker. Keeping to the right tracks you finally spotted a Deer, it wasn’t very big but it was enough. You watched Daryl stalk the deer for a while before sending an arrow straight through its skull. You couldn’t lie, you were impressed by the archer. They way all of this came to him like second nature.

On your way back to the bike after skinning the animal, cutting and wrapping up various lumps of meat. You couldn’t help but let your thoughts wonder. Of course Daryl was twice your age, if not more but you couldn’t deny his rugged good looks . You admired the way he walked for a moment, how he held a sort of swagger with each step. Your eyes are wondering now to his butt, tight! Pleasantly surprised with what you saw, you allowed a small laugh pass your lips as you reached the bike. You stood docile, waiting for his cue to get on the bike. As he straddled the bike, he chewed down on the corner of his lip, nodding slightly. “Nice work out there.” He spoke simply, you shot him a genuine, yet surprised smile.

“Thanks gramps” again with the mocking, Daryl’s eyes rolled before you climbed onto the bike.

“Stop callin’ me that!” he’s words seemed forceful, which only made your brow cock slightly before he kicked the bike into gear and headed back to Hilltop.

-

A few weeks had gone by without any issues, you had done a fair amount of hunting with Daryl, he even let you actually shoot an animal despite telling you the entire time that you were doing it wrong. You’d both grown to appreciate each other's company, the sly remarks and teasing never left but became more of a staple. You’d go as far as to say you were friends. Though you wouldn’t admit it, there was something there between you both, you got butterflies every time his skin touched yours or when he’d look into your eyes. You’d find yourself fantasising about him sometimes but you’d shake the thoughts from your head almost immediately. Today was another day and that’s what you focused on, going on a hunt and trying to get through it without slipping up or god forbid, falling for the guy because you just couldn’t handle the way he looked at you.

While out there in the forest, just you and Daryl, you found yourself taking a back seat when it came to the tracking, not that there was much to track. As the sun went down, you started to shiver a little as the cold night air made its first appearance. This caught Daryl’s attention and without thinking, he pulled off his vest and propped it around your shoulders. He was waiting for you to make some sort of sarcastic remark about how it wouldn’t be of any help without the sleeves but you didn’t, you just smiled at him. You couldn’t, the way he put your well being before his own sent the butterflies crazy. Shit! You watched as he made a clearing, somewhere for you to sit for a moment. You had been walking all day after all.

Sitting down beside him, biting down on your lip avoiding any sort of contact with him. You didn’t know but Daryl could tell something was off with you, he watched you for a moment with a puzzled look before giving you a slight nudge with his elbow. “Wha’s up, run out of sarky shit to say?” he sniggered at you but you didn’t respond. Fuck! You couldn’t help yourself now, your head felt like mush a little as you held onto his vest, your cheeks turning a light pink shade. Fuck, I really like this guy. “Seriously, s’goin on?” He questioned you much more seriously this time. You just shook your head as you turned towards him, your eyes clearly avoiding his. “Nah, ain’t nothin’, wha is it?” You just hoped he’d stop pestering you before he forced you to say something you’d regret.

“Seriously?” Your brow cocked, as you gave him a look. “Just a stupid boy, that’s all!” you snapped, your leg shaking a little. Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at your words as he started to pick at a twig he had found on the ground beneath him.

“Now why you lettin’ a boy mess wi ya head?” he laughed but you just ignored him, God you felt so stupid, he’s so much more older than you. Like hell he’d ever even look at you in that way. “So, who’s the lucky fella?” He questioned but you felt like a deer in headlights, lying to everyone else was one thing but to lie to Daryl? Could you even do it?

Daryl, despite being a tracker had never really been great at reading signs. As you stared at him with a lost look on your face, he just shook his head slightly, waiting for you to reply. Great, he was really going to make you say it. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you let your eyes meet the ground. “You.” You whispered, hoping that he didn’t hear you but he did. As he sat frozen in spot, you let out a frustrated sigh, shaking your head. “Don’t even start, I know how it sounds” you snapped in his direction, not letting your eyes meet his. “It's wrong, I know but when I'm with you, it just feels...” Daryl instantly stood up, cutting you off. Shaking his head as he paced around you.

“Na, Na!” he repeated himself for a moment, “Don’t say it!” he pleaded.

“right.” You had to say it, Your eyes now slightly welling up at the stupidity of your vulnerability right now. “I don’t want to but I like you Daryl” you finally spat out, your cold shakes became slightly more aggressive now. You just watched as Daryl shook his head.

You didn’t know this but Daryl had, had thoughts of you recently but it made him feel awkward with you being so much younger than him but god he couldn’t get you out of his head. His hands now planting firmly onto his hips as he attempted to understand the conversation, nervously chewing on his lips. You sighed softly, running your fingers through your hair. “I'm sorry” your voice was soft now as you glanced over at him for a second, the embarrassment increasing with every moment.

“Just forget I ever said anything, just go back to normal.” Your words held so much pain and regret, instantly snapping Daryl out of his trance.

“Nah” he spoke, soft this time. You looked at him, confused by his words but by the time your eyes met with his, he was making his way towards you. His swagger he once held, still there but you could sense he was nervous. Just like that his hand’s engulfed your face as he pulled you in, planting his lips against yours hungrily. You didn’t fight it, you leaned into it, Your hands lightly pressing against his elbows. All the worries and doubts seemed to wash away as his mouth explored yours. Nothing else mattered to you in this moment as you sank into his body, his hands now wrapping around your shoulders. As he pulled his lips away, you kept your eyes closed for a moment still wrapped in his arms.

“this feels right” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his chin as he squeezed you a little.

“jus’ let me hold ya” he matched your whisper as he closed his eyes, pulling you in closer to his chest. You had no idea where this was going to go, if it was going anywhere at all but you soaked up the feeling of his arms wrapped around you and thanked god you were able to share this moment with him, even if it was going to be the only one.

[ramp-it-up]

Some Nights

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Explicit language, SMUT, explicit hetero sex, same sex explicit sex (f x f), oral sex (f giving/receiving), alcohol induced sex, feeble alcohol hitting, sex under false pretenses, drinking, cheating, lying. All the relationship revenge type angst.

A/N: This is supposed to be a sweet little “breakup to make up” smut prompt ask.  My mind took this waaayyyy left and... well here it is. This is a mess of broken hearts, rebounding, and revenge sex. Please do not read if this is triggering. This is not smut lite.

Also, I know the timeline is wonky, but in this AU In the Heights does not interfere with Lin and Chris touring with FLS.

I MUST thank @einfachniemand for the invaluable advice on the Billie love scene. Could not have done it without her. 🥰

------

8 months later, March 2012

You were with Lin on the rooftop, one of your favorite low key, low cost activities, and the late March air was cool.  The moon was full, and the music from your iPod was right.  Lin-Manuel was keeping you warm in his arms and a blanket that he’d brought.

It was so romantic.  All was right with the world. You thought.

“I’m going to miss you when you are on tour, but the month will fly by and before you know it, we’ll be back up here.” 

You smiled up at him as he held you, trying to keep a brave face because  Lin was leaving in the middle of the week for Barcelona.

“Yeah… about that…” He sat up, moved away from you and cleared his throat.  Then, he looked at you. 

“I think we need to take a break.”

You weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly when he said it.  The smile on your face was frozen in place.

“What?”

“Well, I was talking to Chris...and… Well, I’m not sure that I want to shut myself off from the possibilities in Spain…”

You took a second to process, then you got it. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.  

“Chris told you to dump me so you can go be a hoe in Spain?”

Lin shook his head and frowned.  

“No, no… it wasn’t like that. Chris loves you.  He just asked me some very tough questions about us being apart for a month, and I- I don’t want to hurt you…”

You got up, and grabbed your bottle of wine.

“Might as well do it now, instead of later, hunh?” 

“I think it’s for the best. I’m sorry….”

You were numb. 

“I can’t believe I stuck by you through all the starving artist bullshit, rooftop dates instead of going out, streaming movies instead of seeing shows....”  

You stopped, because you were getting heated, and when you got heated you cried, and you refused to cry in front of Lin.

“To expect you to stick by me for four weeks while you’re in Spain is too much to ask. I guess..” 

You straightened your spine and held your head up.  

“I guess I know that this wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“Have a nice life Lin. When you leave, do not knock on my door. Just go straight to hell.”

-----

Fuck Lin Manuel Miranda

His damn hair, fucking long eyelashes, the little dimples he gets when he gets that little smirk on his fucking stupid beautiful face.

The view from beneath him. Those goddamn lips.

Mutherfukin Lin Manuel Miranda.

You’d let him charm his way into your heart and into your pants. And damn, what he had in his pants gave you so much joy. 

The fact that you were crying was not for Lin.  You were crying for being too trusting and too liberal with your heart.  

You weren’t going to let anyone have a chance to break it again. 

Yes, that was the reason. 

You didn’t miss Lin at all.

-----

Mayra gave you the long weekend to be pitiful, and then you had to get back on your grind, and moving on with your life without Lin.

Your best friend since middle school felt guilty because she’d introduced you to him, a friend of a friend, one night at a bowling alley.  

You and Lin had hit it off immediately. Very immediately, in fact, and were inseparable for a solid 8 months.

But despite feeling bad about it, Mayra wasn’t about to let you mope around and waste your life missing him. And she was right.

Lin left for Barcelona on a Wednesday, and by Saturday night, you were out with Mayra, mingling and meeting new people. 

Mayra’s scene wasn’t your scene, but everybody was nice, fun, and attractive.  You weren’t really with it, but you’d be damned if you were going to wither away in your room.

You had just finished dancing with Mayra and her friends and you needed to sit this one out. 

The 6-inch heels you were wearing and the blazer over lingerie top look was not a good combination for vigorous dancing.  

You were hot and your feet were killing you.

You nursed your drink and watched your bestie having fun, when someone approached you.

Gorgeous lips, caramel skin and stunning brown eyes sized you up. 

Why is it always the eyes? You felt something that you weren’t too sure about.

“I like the way you make that pink push up bra look intellectual.”

Curious and amused, you looked into the brown eyes and laughed.

“I’m Billie.”

She extended her hand and you shook it. You knew what kind of bar this was, but you weren’t expecting this. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh.  I’m, I’m not…”

Billie flashed a gorgeous smile at you.

“Relax. You’re cute, but I can tell, you ain’t ready for this yet.  I just had to come say hi, though.  Drinks....As friends?”

You accepted and spent the night dying laughing at your new friend’s witticisms.

----

The next week, you were chilling with Billie at the crib, along with a bunch of other folks that Mayra had invited over.  

You were on the roof, telling her all about Lin, and you started to cry again.

“...And then he just, breaks up with me because he wants to go to Spain and fuck Spanish FLS groupies…..”

It was about the 10th time that you’d cried about it. You were tired of hearing yourself.  Billie just rubbed your back and listened. 

“I would never put up with that from a man. And you shouldn’t either.”

 When you started sobbing, she apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s…... okay….”  you gasped, trying to calm down.

She hugged you, rubbing your back and pressing you close.  

You felt some kind of way and pulled back.

“Bill… I don’t want to lead you on.”

Billie just smiled that gorgeous smile. 

“It’s cool. No stress. I’m just here to listen. Let’s go back downstairs.”

You nodded and rejoined the party, feeling more comfortable with Billie than before, partly because she was giving you some space.  

You couldn’t help but sneak glances as she mingled with everyone at the party and when your eyes met. Whew.

Who knew?

----

The next week, you were in your apartment with Billie again, this time, alone.

You’d invited her over, because she was quickly becoming the person you most liked to talk to and you hadn’t really talked in person since the previous weekend.

You gave her a glass of wine and settled down onto the couch, comfortable in your tank top and sweatpants.  Not seductive at all.

Billie looked cute as always in button down blue silk shirt and jeans with her hair up. 

“I want to apologize for last week. I just vomited my emotions all over you and you were nothing but amazing about it.”

Billie laughed. She was so damn beautiful.

“I told you no worries!”

“Can I ask you a question? Why are you doing all this for me?”

Billie took a drink and set her glass down on the coffee table. She leaned back on the couch.

“Do you mean do I have any ulterior motives?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, no question that I think you are attractive, and that I would love…”  

She shook her head and straightened up.

“But, I’ve fallen for enough straight-but not so straight women to know that I should let you make the first move.”

She bit her lip and you put your wine down because it was making you warm.

You reached for and grabbed her hand. You shifted it to entwine your fingers with hers.

You kissed her palm and drew her closer to you, her hovering over you on the couch. She didn't move, forcing you to bring your neck up to kiss her lips tentatively and softly. 

You wrapped your arms around her waist and brought her body down to rest next to yours on the couch and looked into her eyes. You ran your hand down the side of her body, feeling all of her curves. And you moved to kiss her again. 

This time her soft lips opened to accept your tongue and you played hide and seek, exploring.

You pulled back to look at her again, giggling now, a smile plastered on her face. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for two weeks,” Billie whispered in your ear before kissing your neck. 

Her fingers rubbed teasingly at the skin where your tank top had ridden up, and rotated around to your ass, fingers slipping into the back of your sweats. 

You moaned softly as she tugged your earlobe between her teeth and then kissed along your jawline.

You wanted to feel her, so you brougt your hand up her side to feel her breast over her shirt, and found it warm and soft to the touch, except for the hardening nipples that you gently played with.

Looking into her eyes, you saw the desire there and leaned over to kiss her again. She kissed you back harder, pushing her hands deeper into your sweats and cupped your ass with both hands, kneading your flesh tenderly.

You wanted her to touch you at your core, but her teasing fingers never seemed to get there. 

Next, she moved one hand from your butt to pull up your tank top, exposing your nipple to the cool air of the room.

She took your breast in her hand and squeezed it, thumb running lightly over your nipple. You moan and leaned back while putting your hands in her hair.

Billie moaned and ran her thumb over your nipple and teased them until they were achingly hard and sensitive. 

When she leaned down and kissed the top of your breast, making her way slowly, oh so slowly to your nipple, it caused your pussy to ache and throb while soaking your panties.

You groaned in frustration as she continued to tease you for a while before her mouth reached your nipple, moaning around it and sucking gently at first before picking up intensity. 

Her hand moved to the front of your pants, tracing your wet lips through your panties but applying no pressure. 

You were a moaning, quivering mess as you rocked against her fingers, trying to get what you needed.

Billie separated from you to take off her shirt, smiling at you as you shed your clothes. 

She looked over your body and brought her eyes up to yours, smiled into them, and took your face in her hands.

Next, those hands roamed down your body, circling slowly, grasping gently here and there, teasing you to a soaking wet mess on the couch cushions.

“Please!” you whispered, squirming in agony.

Billie chuckled and held your gaze as her hand finally rested in your core, lightly pinching your clit between her fingers. She just played with it as you moaned beneath her.

“I love watching you like this,” she whispered as she teased you some more. “Do you like it?”

She looked so cute as she asked, but all you can do is nod and bite your lip.

She smiled at you and lowered her head to your skin while you watched intently. She kissed and sucked at the skin on your stomach and thighs, looking up to establish eye contact again and again.

You whined and tried to keep still as she neared your core and gently opened your thighs. She looked at you for the longest time before her mouth met your pussy and finally licked through your folds.

You shuddered, already almost cuming as you waited for more.

She kept eye contact with you as she sucked your clit gently, humming while you quivered in her mouth. She then traced her tongue around your entire cunt, kissing and sucking those lips gently, but expertly.

Finally, she manipulated your clit with her tongue, and alternated that with inserting it far inside you as she could go.

When she sucked hard at it, you came, feeling like you never had before.

Somehow, you wound up on the floor in her arms. 

And the night had just begun.

 -----

May 2012

You walked home slowly from the subway, trying to think of a good reason not to get there. 

You felt like throwing up, knowing that Lin would be there on your rooftop with the rest of FLS. You did not want to face him.

It had been almost two months since you last saw him and you were having fun with Billie. She stopped you from wondering just who you were. The love you had for her was real.

But there was some reason, which you did not want to name, that caused you not to want to see Lin. 

You saw his face often enough when you awoke, in that space between dream and reality.  That was sufficient torture, aside from having to see him in person at an event that was supposed to be fun.

But Mayra had started to harass you two weeks ago.

"Come on! You've got to be there on my birthday. I’ll make sure Lin doesn't bother you, but UTK won’t come without him and I’m trying to get that D again.  I need it to survive. Don't you love me?” 

She pouted at you and when that didn’t seem to work, she resorted to outright threats. 

“I’ll never speak to you again if you don't come.”  

This continued every day until the party.

Being trapped on a rooftop with Lin for three hours wasn't your idea of fun. 

Anymore. 

And to top it off, Billie had to work tonight. This sucked big time. But you had decided to be there for your friend.

"She better know I love her, " you whispered to yourself as you stepped out on the roof.

You were greeted by Chris almost as soon as you arrived. He enveloped you in a bear hug. You stiffly hugged him back. You still felt some kinda way.

He held you away from him. 

"You look good, girl, long time no see!”

You nodded at him stiffly. “How have you been?"

"Oh, you know, promoting and stuff. The Spain trip was good."

You nodded again and looked around the roof.

“He told me he would stay away from you.”

You looked back at Chris. “Who?”

“You know who.”  You just smiled tightly and looked down.

“What’s up with you?” His voice was suspicious.

You looked up and stared him straight in the eye, not wanting to be intimidated.

“I don’t know Chris? Just maybe you told my boyfriend to break up with me so he could hoe around Europe with you guys. That was a little annoying.”

Chris raised his arms in self defense.

“Wait a minute, Missy.  I did not tell him that.  What I told him was that if he could not definitely, without a doubt, be true to you, that he needed to be straight with you. If he had any doubts at all. That you deserved better.”

You just look up at this big, sweet man and willed yourself not to cry.

“Oh.” That was all you could say.

“But maybe I shouldn’t have said anything because he fucked that whole conversation up and wound up sulking the entire trip. All of his freestyles were about you, you know.”

“I don’t care Chris, because you’re right.  He did fuck up. I’ve moved on.” You held your chin high.

Chris smiled at you. “Too bad for Lin. Your new man is a lucky guy.”

You smiled back. “My new woman is a lucky girl.”

“Oh.” That was all he could say. He recovered quickly however.  “Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Thanks friend.” 

You smiled and gave him a hug, feeling better about a lot of things. Lin Manuel Miranda was a world class idiot.

You grabbed a red solo cup full of something and stood at the railing looking over the city.

"Heyyyy, what's crackin'?" 

You turned around to see Utkarsh  standing behind you. You smiled at him.

 "Hey UTK! What it do?"

"Well, give me a hug. I’ve missed you, too. Mayra won’t let me near you since we’ve been back, I don’t know why.”

You knew why. You hadn't really wanted to see any of the FLS guys since you and Lin broke up.

You hugged him. "She’s probably jealous of our love." You smiled at your friend.

“Right.” Utkarsh smiled at you. Then he frowned. 

“Wait, why would she be jealous?  She said she and I were just friends…” 

You laughed at his back as he went to find Mayra.  Well, you’d manage to wingman without even trying.  Your job should be done for the night. You turned around to leave, running right into Mayra.

"Happy birthday, Bitch!" You squealed and hugged her.

"Thank you, boo! I didn't think you would actually come! I'm so happy!"

"You mean I had a choice? I seem to remember some very specific and lethal threats if I didn't get my ass on this roof tonight."

"No, it's because you love me." Mayra made a face at you. 

"But seriously though. The roof is big enough that you don't have to be near Lin if you don't want to. Try to have a good time."

"Girl, I'm going to have a blast! As long as there is booze and music, I'm good to go." You lied to your bestie.

"Okay girl, do you want me to stay with you so no one will bother you?" 

You knew what she meant.

"No girl, I don't need a bodyguard. Have fun, mingle, be a good hostess. I'll be fine."

You pushed Mayra away from you.

You sighed and walked toward the bar. Before you made it there, you were enveloped in Shockwave and Jelly Donut. They both hugged you, making a sandwich.

"Guys, I can't breathe!" 

They released you, laughing. Shockwave got right to it.

“You know It killed Lin when you two broke up. He was a bitch in Spain."

Your heart clenched. 

"Listen, I don't want to talk about it. I'm just here to have a good time for Mayra. Can we just chill with all that?"

"Okay, okay. I had to try. I know he's an idiot, but..." Sully barreled on. Andrew started poking him in the side. 

"What???”  Andrew gave Sully a look and he was chastened.

“Sorry love. We'll let you go mingle.”

"Yes, thank you." 

You felt like getting good and drunk. You looked at your phone and saw that there were two and a half hours left of the party. Might as well start now. You downed your drink and went to get another.

You ran into Arthur. He winked at you as you apologized. 

"No worries, you better eat something if you are going to drink like that. You can't hang with the big boys like me."

You rolled your eyes and finished the second drink. 

“You’re skinnier than I am, tuh.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about when I say big boy.” 

You looked at him in shock, and then burst out laughing. You loved these guys. Too bad Lin got them in the break up.

You sighed and began working on your third drink.

--------

Lin spotted you when you first stepped on the roof. He moved out of your line of sight and watched as Chris talked to you.

Geez, you were fine as hell. The dress you were wearing was everything and the heels made your ass pop. Damn.

He went and got a drink, still watching you. He felt like a stalker. Chris came over.

"I tried to get her to talk to you, but she wasn't having it." 

They both watched you and UTK talking. 

"Man, you are an idiot. You're lucky you're my brother, or I would kick your ass for letting that go."

“Thanks, my guy.” Lin’s reply was dripping with sarcasm.

“Any time. Next time listen with your big boy brain before you do something that dumb.” 

Lin was ready to fight. Luckily, Chris left. Then UTK came up, talking shit.

"Lin, you douche! How could you be so dumb, man?” 

They watched the Jelly/Shockwave/You sandwich.

"Leave me the fuck alone." 

Lin moved to the other side of the roof where Sully came up to him.  Lin put his hands up.  

“Before you say it, I'm going to stay out of her way. I'm not trying to ruin Mayra’s party. Just about two hours to go."

“Good, because you have fucked this one up royally.” Sully shook his head as Lin stalked off.

----

After some drinks, you started to loosen up and have fun. You danced with Mayra and all of FLS minus one.

You thought you saw Lin a couple of times out of the corner of your eye, but when you looked, he was gone. Every time that happened, you went and got a drink.

By the end of the night, you were looking at the sky and trying to sober up.

"The sky is beautiful tonight."

You jumped. Lin was there, watching you. You just looked at him and started back downstairs.

"Don't leave, please. Let me talk to you."

He followed you down to your apartment.

"You said all there was to say. I'm done."

You put your arms around yourself. All of a sudden you were cold. You stared Lin down, but he didn’t budge.

"What do you want, Lin?"

He sighed. This isn't going to be easy, he thought. He looked into your beautiful eyes and decided to go for it. There was nothing left to lose.

"Honestly? I want you back." His heart was in his throat as he said it.

You closed your eyes. You couldn't go there. No matter what your heart was doing in your chest.

"No. No, you do what you did and you want me to come back? To trust you? You promised you wouldn't hurt me. I can't with you Lin, I just can't."

His heart actually hurt.

"I'm so sorry…. "

You didn't let him finish. 

"Please! Don't give me the same tired old clichés every dude gives their girl when they fuck up!"

You were far from cold now. 

"If I took you back, what's gonna happen the next time you go on tour? I am not a yo-yo Lin!"

Lin reached for you. "It's not going to happen again, I've learned...."

"Don't fucking touch me! You have some muthafuckin nerve!"

Lin kept moving toward you.

"Back the fuck up! Don't come near me! Get off of me!" 

You began hitting him when he took you in his arms.

"Tell me that you don't want me to hold you, that you don't want to be with me. Tell me you don't miss us, this. Tell me that you don't want me to and I'll leave you alone."

Lin pressed himself against you, and you stopped fighting. You melted on the inside. The alcohol had you loose. Suddenly you had a thought.

"Fuck it. You're right. I have missed you." 

You moaned as he put his lips on your neck. You wanted him so badly. 

"Let's go in here." You nodded toward your bedroom.

Lin's heart leapt and he gladly followed you.

You attacked him when you got inside. 

"Whoa, hold up...."

"No, let's do it. Don't say anything or I will change my mind." 

You turned around, pulled your dress up, got on the bed and bent over, ass in the air. 

"Fuck me, Lin. Please."

Lin was confused. One minute you were fighting him, next you were begging for it. But he wasn't going to argue. He wanted you too bad. He moved your panties to the side, took out his hard cock and quickly and roughly entered your warm, tight goodness.

The stretch hurt a little, but it was welcome. It had been a while since you had taken a cock and Lin’s was your favorite. 

You became wet rapidly, and although you wanted Lin to hurt you as a sort of penance, it felt amazing.

"Ohhh, you feel so good. Shit! I've missed this. So tight for me…” 

Lin moaned through his dick wanting to explode.  He hadn’t had anyone else since you, for about three months.

"I said don't talk!" 

You were trying to blank your mind of what you were doing.

Lin felt like right now he was in heaven, and heaven was you. Lin shut up and started giving it to you harder, just like he knew you liked. He smacked your ass, hard.

"Yes, yes, yes. Oh yes!" 

You quivered, especially when he smacked it. Forceful Lin was one of your favorite Lins. Damn. You savored the contact as Lin, all of his manhood, hit your spot. 

It felt so damn good after so much emotion and time.

To Lin, all that mattered was you right now. He fought not to come until he felt your body pounding with your orgasm.

Almost as soon as it was over, you turned around and looked at him. He looked up from buttoning up his pants and smiled. You could tell that he was thinking this was the beginning of your reunion. 

You leaned in and gave him a good, long kiss, preparing to give the greatest acting performance of your life.

"Goodbye, Lin. That was just what I needed. Have a good life."

His goddamn adorable face registered confusion.

"What? What do you mean?"

"This was closure. “

The way his face changed broke your heart.  But he’d broken yours.

Lin was stricken. "But,I love you. That's why I...."

You interrupted him. 

"It's not you, it's me. I needed that to get you out of my system. "

You looked at him coldly, a mess on the inside.

"That's not all we have. We love each other!” Lin was trying to make sense of the situation. 

“You're telling me that after this you don't want to get back together?" He couldn't believe what you were saying. 

"As far as getting back together, we're not. This didn't mean anything; I am drunk off my ass and I had a lapse in judgement. It's not going to go any further."

"But you love me, I know it." He reached for you.

You moved out of his reach and toward the door.

"I told you, I can't, I won't let my guard down again with anyone. I can't love anymore." 

Lin was looking at you with his mouth open.

You straightened your dress and left your room, ignoring the fact that Lin was calling your name. You were ready to be alone.

There, outside your door, was Billie.

-----

Tagging:  @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy​ @ivycomet @sillyteecup  @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders  @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @curtainremote @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin​

[papipopsicle]

HANDMADE HEAVEN PART ONE

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Hargrove!Reader

Summary: In which the new Queen of Hawkins High finds herself falling for the fallen king.

Song: Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: swearing, asshole parental figures

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

The house itself was fine, not pretty and polished like the one she grew up in, but at the very least she was grateful not to be sleeping in another motel bed filled with broken springs and anonymous stains. Susan greeted her like a good little home maker, tightly waved hair bouncing against her shoulders as she walked down the steps of the porch.

"How was it, sweetie?" The ginger woman waited with pursed lips while her step daughter stood from the vehicle. She really hated that car, it stood out like a sore thumb next to her husband's silver SUV, especially when her brothers parked alongside the two.

"Not the worst." Y/N shrugged. She missed the silent solace already, "Has Max decided which room she wants?"

Susan nodded, leading the blonde into their new home, "She's at the back opposite your father and I. William hasn't arrived yet so you have the choice of the one next to hers or ours."

Without hesitation she chose the one next to Max's. Her father helped unload her heavier furniture from the U-Haul currently fixed to the back of her red muscle car. The room was in the shape on an 'L', mirroring her step sister's. Her small double bed only just managed to fit in the crook, creating a cosy space to drift away in.

Hours of rearranging the room passed before a navy blue Camaro could be heard pulling up onto the curb and a muggy sunset made itself present in her bedroom window. Emptying out her socks into the small drawer of her dresser, Y/N dropped the empty black bin liner behind her and rushed to greet her brother.

"Billy!" She squealed, attacking him with a hug. The two would roughhouse and swear at each other like drunken sailors, but their love for each other would always be the first thing anyone noticed about the twins. He picked her up with ease and spun her around, quickly dropping her to the floor again.

Y/N's twin would sometimes forget the rude masculine persona he put on and actually behaved like himself, but it never lasted long with their father close by.

"See that hunk of crap didn't kill you on the way here then?" Billy joked as they both carried a bed frame into his new room. His distaste for the nineteen-sixty-eight Mustang Cobra was evident whenever it came up in conversation, only due to it being left to her rather than him in their mother's will.

"Not just yet." His sister hummed and the two let out a huff as they dropped the mattress onto the wooden frame. They talked about the bullshit of finishing their senior year at a completely different school and what that we're going to dress up as for Halloween. It was their favourite holiday and this year she planned on being Tom Cruise from Risky Business. Nobody would understand it but it was better than Billy's 'slutty teen boy' costume he wore most days anyway.

"Y/N/N honey, could you come into the lounge!" Susan's sugary tone rang through the house. The twins shared a look that always subconsciously found their faces when she attempted to play doting step mother.

Fucking doormat of a woman.

"Coming." The blonde shut her brothers door on the way out and walking down the hallway into the small living area. By now any remnants of the sun had long hidden away from Hawkins and only warm ceiling lights lit up her face.

Susan appeared from the kitchen door with a tray full of oatmeal cookies, grin etched into her features like puppet strings pulling at her cheeks, "Try one, would you?" She gleamed, pushing the metal tray out for emphasis, "I'd ask your father but he'd just say they were nice, never wants to upset me. He's too good."

Not wanting to answer, Y/N took a small crumbly cookie and bit into it, eyes bugging out at the statement only able to nod in response.

The step mother watched in anticipation, hair bouncing at her shoulders as usual, "So, gorgeous? Be honest with me, how are they?"

"Really good," She didn't like the woman, but couldn't deny her ability to copy a recipe, "I think these may even top the peanut butter ones."

Susan's sterile smile managed to stretch further and Y/N was scared her lips may crack and bleed from the force, "Perfect! We're handing them out to our new neighbours tomorrow. Which reminds me, I need you to get some new trainers for Maxine tomorrow, nothing expensive though, they're just for gym class. She's a four now.

The blonde resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead nodded while an idea popped into her head, "I drove past a giant superstore on my way here, I'm sure they're still open I can just go now."

"Are you sure, honey?" Susan sounded concerned, but Neil didn't share the same feelings, "Curfew is eleven until you start school on Monday, same rules apply here."

"I know, Dad." She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, not wasting a moment grabbing her brothers old khaki bomber jacket and her car keys. The front door shut just as quickly as it opened, leaving the small U Haul sitting on the driveway next to Billy's Camaro.

It had been her brother's favourite jacket since he was sixteen, but he'd gained so much muscle his arms couldn't slip into it anymore. Although Y/N was tall for the average girl, the material still managed to shroud her frame.

Y/N felt amazed after managing to get to the store fairly easily, she picked up some plain black pumps and paid for them with cash, pocketing the receipt to make sure Neil would reimburse her. That took less than fifteen minutes. There were still over two hours until she needed to be back at the house and she needed to make the most of any freedom from her father.

She was her mother's daughter and the opposite of Susan Mayfield-Hargrove; if someone showed themselves as a thorn and not the rose they seemed to be, they were a thorn. She could accept it and move on, which is difficult when they own the house she calls home. Her step mother was a fixer, finding wilted petals and taping them up against the thorn to appear more sightly. If Neil was the thorn, Y/N the rose, then Susan was a daisy in a field where she didn’t belong.

The younger Hargrove twin decided to explore her new home, driving around cul-de-sacs and roads which mirrored one another. After a while of aimless driving, Y/N parked up at the side of a quiet road, seeming to back onto a rich neighbourhood. She locked the muscle car, Ellie, and began walking on the edge of the road.

"Stay put, El." She whispered to herself, echoing her mother's voice. Meredith Hargrove always swore her car changed parking spaces whenever they went somewhere together.

Y/N couldn't imagine having so much space, no family was big enough to make use of it all. Her feet brought her into the small forest area, passing a few more eccentric gardens before finding one which intrigued her. The lights were all off, moonlight bouncing off the unmoving water in the centre of the garden.

Swimming had always been something the Hargrove girl not only loved but turned to in uncertainty. Billy would surf alongside her a long time ago, but he hadn't for years now. Her eyes danced around each room, unable to see any kind of life within the mansion. Against Y/N’s better judgement, she left the tall trees and let her toes edge onto someone's private property.

It seems a shame not to.

Fallen leaves stopped crunching under her brown boots as they found concrete slabs. The family must have employed a cleaner and gardener as nothing seemed out of place or dirty. The water was clear and not a single leaf or bug lay on its surface. Crouching down, her fingers drifted along the water, creating a small ripple, confirming her suspicions of how cold it would be.

She didn't care, stripping down into her underwear in the cool autumnal winds, anyone would've thought she was a crazy person. Y/N ignored the small ladder next to her and gracefully dived into the pool, swimming down to the bottom until she needed to come back up for air. The blonde lay on her back, staring up at the stars wondering what her friends were doing on the other side of America. Probably at Sadie's getting high.

Y/N wasn't sure how much time had passed, her fingertips were now wrinkled but it didn't bother her. She was in her element, so much so she didn't register when the kitchen light turned on and alerted the homeowner of someone in their pool.

Steve's body was overcome with terror as he did a double, triple take out of the kitchen window at the figure in his garden. He only wanted some leftover lasagne. Grabbing his nail punctured bat, the home alone teenager unlocked the back door, and against his own better judgement, creeped towards the intruder.

As he came closer, he was thankful to find a girl than a demogorgan, a girl he certainly didn't recognise. Her blonde hair lay on top of the water like a halo as she floated in her own world.

"Hello?" He questioned, bat still firmly in hand, "Why the fuck are you naked in my pool?"

Y/N left her mini trance, flailing in the water as her eyes found a teenage boy wielding an odd weapon, only a scream leaving her lips in response.

part two?

want to be tagged? just send in an ask!

[bronskiibeat]

OK BUT DAMN the first one of the Angst sentences really did fucking punch me in the guts??? Oh man they're all absolutely splendid, but I'd LOVE the first one! I'mma fucken weep babe

“It always comes back to this with you, doesn’t it?” 

 It was gone midnight, Steve was sure he could feel the day tick over somewhere inside himself, or maybe the rustle of the grass around him felt more Saturday than Friday. Billy was beside him, he could feel that too, their arms pressed together as their gazes explored the city down below them, their feet kicking together gently as the warm summer air from the plains below rose to meet the cold mountain air dropping from above.

Steve sighed happily, grabbing Billy’s elbow gently to lay himself down on the damp grass to direct his focus to the stars, the great unknown. Hawkins felt so small but coming to the hills and looking out towards everywhere made Steve feel like he maybe had a chance at escaping their small country jail, like they had the chance of getting out.

“I love you.” He murmured thoughtlessly, dropping his eyes to see the side of Billy’s head.

“No you don’t.” Billy replied tightly, pulling his knees towards his chest and defiantly looking out towards the lights below, making no effort to even humour Steve with a glance back.

Steve reached a hand up to Billy’s taking it in his own and squeezing, hoping to force some common sense into the boy. “Yeah I do.” He said back.

Billy looked round then, a dark look crossing his features, taking his hand back from Steve pointedly.

“We aren’t anything Steve, we hang out sometimes, you know about the same monsters I do, but you don’t love me. I don’t love you.” Billy pushed himself to his feet, stepping deeper into the forest, one arm reached to grab the material of his opposite shoulder. He couldn’t do this, not with Steve, but he had to. He could not get attached any more than he was, he was already too deep, holding hands, hot make out sessions, staying the night, he was in way too deep already. And it was too dangerous to go throwing the L-word around. His dad would kill him, then he would be dead, and Max would be forced to move again, because of him.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice called, from further away than Billy remembers walking, a hint of worry tinging his voice. Billy walked back towards Steve, stopping a foot or so away, taking in the pain on his face but scrubbing over it.

“We’re going, get in the car.” Billy snapped, forcing himself to be hard.

Steve held his ground, shoulders creeping towards his ears, making himself as big as he could, he was taller than Billy. “I’m not going anywhere until you say it.” He replied, eyes gleaming with the dangerous absence of fear that worried Billy when they were good but scared him when they weren’t. He might be a sweet teen babysitter when he wanted to be, but when this dangerous Steve came out, nothing would stop him.

Billy rolled his eyes and smirked, as if laughing at Steve, putting his own attitude on. “You can’t make me say shit. I don’t love you.” He snapped nastily, alarmed by the vitriol flying out of his own mouth.

Steve flinched as if it had actually hit him before stepping right up into Billy’s space, “You’re just scared.” He accused.

Billy’s fists were ready at his sides, he’d gone through pretending not to care now and was straight to seething hot anger. “Of you?” He laughed in Steve’s face.

Steve watched Billy’s face, searching for anything that betrayed he felt something good about them, showing Steve that this wasn’t just a one way thing, that Billy could admit they were good together, but he found only disgust and anger.

“You’re scared of us. How good we are. You’re scared of committing to trying to make this work.” He grabbed the front of his hair in frustration before pushing it back. He stepped back to put an arm’s length between them, taking his gaze away from Billy in his frustration. “Jesus.” He exclaimed, ““It always comes back to this with you, doesn’t it? Just you being a little pussy. I’m sick of it!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Billy shouted, watching as Steve was caught of guard by one of his fists meeting his jaw roughly, he was caught so by surprise that it sent him flying, landing with a tree root poking roughly into his side. He pulled himself to his feet and grabbed Billy by the lapels and pushed him up against a tree, bracing an arm across Hargrove’s neck.

“What is wrong with you?” Steve whispered.

Billy scrambled to find his footing, having to lift himself onto his toes before Steve to stand up so he wasn’t strangled, oh but when Steve snapped it lit something in him. He loved to see Steve with some fight in him, it was better than the Steve who jumped at a pin drop or cried in the night. No, the angry Steve, fighting for a cause was a much better alternative to Billy, it showed him Steve cared. But that’s not the point, he didn’t want Steve to care. And that’s why he kept poking the beast.

It was the increased pressure on his neck that snapped Billy back to the reality of the situation, Steve was actually hurting him. And he knew he meant it. A fire lit in his eyes, he collected some saliva in his mouth and spat it into Steve’s face.

“Get off.” He growled. When Steve only pushed Billy harder into the tree, Billy reached his limit. With a swift unexpected motion, Billy hooked a leg behind Steve’s and pushed his body against Steve’s own weight and they both tumbled to the floor. After a few jabs and kicks to his stomach by a flailing Steve, and a harder one of his own to Steve’s face, Billy was up and free. And he was sprinting for his car. That would teach the little bitch.

“Billy!” Steve shouted through the woods as he realised what Billy was doing, picking himself up and ignoring the spinning of the trees to sprint after him.

When Steve finally got anywhere near to catching up, tears were running freely down his face, Billy was in the driver’s seat and the engine already growling to life. Billy wound down his window and flicked a finger at Steve.

“Billy please.” Steve sobbed, reaching out to grab the window, but not making it before Billy was speeding off into the night, leaving Steve in the middle of the road heaving heavy sobs from somewhere so deep he didn’t know he had it in him.

Billy was 10 minutes down the road before his own tears blurred his vision so much he couldn’t see, he was angry. So angry. Mostly that Steve had seen right through him to know he was scared of committing to actually getting together, calling a spade a spade and dating. But he was scared, so scared. He was more scared of the damage that could do him than he was of the mind flayer, and that was saying something. To hurt now seemed so much easier than to hurt later.

He let out a scream of frustration as he headbutted the steering wheel, pulling it recklessly to turn in the road and drive back the way he had come. As he drove he slipped back on a mask of indifference, wiping his tears from his eyes to try and make sure he looked like he didn’t care.

His heart screamed ‘you do care’, as he drove back to where he’d left Steve to see the boy sitting curled in on himself shaking. Fuck. He’d properly fucked this one up. He’d let fear get the best of him and ruined the only good thing he had in his sad excuse of a life. He pulled up beside Harrington and leaned over to roll the window down.

“Get in Steve.” He said sharply, but Harrington didn’t move from the side of the road.

Billy raised his voice this time, “Get in!” He ground, but it worked. Steve got himself up off the floor, shaking hands trying for the door handle twice before he made it, pulling it open and dropping into the passenger seat.

As they set off he didn’t even look at Billy, he did his seatbelt but turned his body towards the window, his arms drawn close to his chest as he looked out to the night, a pitiful image of heartbreak. Sobs were still the only things pulling air into his lungs and the tears in his nose had him sniffing like a 3rd grader who’d shit his pants. Billy rolled his eyes at the state, but forced himself to be bold, be brave, he didn’t have to be scared about this if he didn’t want to be. He could try to make it work.

He thought about the s-word, but Billy couldn’t remember the last time he’d said that, so instead he said “Please stop crying Steve”, hoping the boy would hear the unsaid ‘I’m sorry’ tagged on the end.

Steve wiped at his face, unknowingly smearing some blood from his brow over his nose, he took a moment to calm down before he spoke,

“You’re a fucking psychopath.”

[doomedandstoned]

Planet of the Dead Return to the Stars as ‘Pilgrims’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Jonathan Guzi

Every other day there's a story that calls our eyes heavenward to wonder about new planets discovered in nearby solar systems, terraforming Mars, or exploring the smallest elements in the universe. Anywhere has to be better than here, any time better than here right now. At least that's what a lot of people are feeling. How about the power of music to elevate us into vast dimensions of the imagination. One band out of New Zealand is interested in finding out what limits one can breach when the driving power of doom rock is hotwired with adventurous sci-fi/fantasy storytelling.

I speak, of course, of Wellington quartet PLANET OF THE DEAD Last year, Mark Mundell (vox), Malcolm McKenzie (guitar), Kees Hengst (bass), and Josh Hussey (drums) brought us the impressive first introduction to their soundscape and narrative concept, which elicited no small amount of praise for 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), including the enthusiastic Bandcamper who gushed, "Some of the best jams I've heard in this universe!" Listen to fan favorites "The Eternal Void" or "Mind Killer" and you'll discover why there's excitement around this band's future.

But Planet of the Dead wasn't done yet. As many of us have already experienced, unexpected and elongated times of forced aloneness do crazy things to the creative mind. For one, it frustrates, as you cannot express the present songs you feel so strongly about to live crowds filled with spontaneous drifters. The moods usually shift out of sheer exasperated boredom, leading to the insatiable urge to begin tinkering again. 'Pilgrim' (2021) comes at us like an explosion with stories to tell and songs to wail. It's purpose-driven interdimensional doom we're talking about here. This may have been the impetus behind the second album’s creation, so closely after the birth of their first (incidentally, both records feature exactly eight songs a piece).

"Gom Jabbar" is the first creature we chance upon in this otherworldly dimension. He speaks with synth-enhanced vocals (ever so slightly) that's practically like an alien encounter if you listen to it high (gosh, sorry. I've gotta stop leaking album reviewer secrets like that). A defiant second voice joins the dialogue, sounding for all the world like Goliath, Hercules, or Hulkian figure.

"Pilgrim" stirs up grey and purple auras as this groovy sandcrawler glides across dunes and high above deserts, searching for the most fitting place to (re)build the world they once knew, perhaps even dare to dream beyond it. I'm assuming they're a scientific voyage on the run from a restrictive government in a week's long mini series I should have pitched to NBC 20 years ago for big bucks. The song allows your imagination drift on its own recognisance, before the closing words call us back to the shadows.

A dire feeling blankets the air throughout "Nostromo," a stomping little number that's straight-up doom rock, with a cool streetwalking kind of stride. It's impossible to not to think of previous adventures aboard vessels christened Nostromo, but each are mysterious encounters with the unknown, some of which yield new insights into our humanity by taking us back through some strange luck of heavy metal time travel to experience pivotal moments in astral history.

"The Sprawl" may be one of the most dismal legs of this journey, but in an exotic acid-soaked kind of way that makes you question your reality (and your own sanity) before the trip is done. The song is good about building various layers of joy and tension, then meshing them together for some distorted, fuzzy, electric, sparkin' Frankensteinian experience. Where will the spiral take us next? Confident lead gets a riff-enhanced jolt, staging march-like-groove that eventually turns meditative, psychedelic, and ethereal. And that's just the first side of the record! Go ahead, flip it over. You can't stop this far-invested in the trip. Shhh. Listen. Grungy, rumbling energy, extraterrestrial harmonics, and gnarly acid-touched solos are just ahead.

"Escape from Smith's Grove" jars the senses with the unexpected tonal shift from clarinets into a seismic pattern of eruptions that match our stomping feet. This is, after all, a jailbreak of sorts.

"Directive IV" takes the perspective of an enforcement officer who is just doing his job. Mark Mundell's vocal stylings are on-point. For me they compare to the pipes of the late-great Wayne Static, the spastic, growling frontman of Static X. Others may see more similarity with the "common man" grit of Scott Angelacos from Hollow Leg and Junior Bruce. Or even Kirk Windstein's apocalyptic spitfire with Crowbar.

The song appears to be a struggle of conscience between compassion and machine-like order, a tug-of-war that after several epic call and response segments in which our protagonist is put on trial by his peers. The tight grip of fascistic space goons gradually loosens their grip in the song's final minutes, as a street-worn riff storm carries our rebels far away from the grasp of whatever the fucks. That means our (now treasonous) soldier has a second chance at life in the (are you ready for this?) the unknown wilds of...

..."The Cursed Earth." This is a perfect song for that moment in a show when the alcohol or "legal tobacco" has sufficiently unlocked your third eye with stellar riffs and choruses (this song has several "ah-ha" moments). The vocals are obscured here and are sometimes backed up by other singers to emphasize a specific point in the lyrical narrative. The final moments again are slowed down with impactful tonal moments that make you think you're on the edge spying some strange meeting of warrior souls.

Things are not what they seem They never are

"The Great Wave" pulls you right into its hypnotic sway, interjected with extraterrestrial strains of thought communicated as if by a very blasted HAL 9000, our onboard computer. It's downright creepy when it hits you. Then again, maybe that's what we want from an intrepid album such as Pilgrim, to rope us into a fascinating narrative and invite us to return to sort out the details, several spins down the road. Now that I think of it, maybe these songs are all references pinned to great Alien, Robocop, and Judge Dredd moments? Listen closely to "Nostromo" and "Directive IV" and wonder. A good album should do that to a person, draw you into its storytelling and musical colour. It has me listening to it immediately from beginning to end, then end to beginning. If you wanna give it a shot, Planet of the Dead's monsterpiece will definitely reward your back-to-back listens.

Look for Pilgrims to come to life on July 23rd, with a fantastic spread of options on vinyl and CD (pre-order here). In the meanwhile, Planet of the Dead are letting us join the party leading up to the big drop right here at Doomed & Stoned HQ, where you can hear each track in full. Don't miss crucial insight from the band itself in 'Some Buzz' to follow. Then join in sharing your thoughts and theories (stoned or otherwise) on this transcendental New Zealand metal album in the comments below!

Give ear...

LISTEN: Planet of the Dead - Pilgrim

SOME BUZZ

Just little over a year following the release of their auspicious debut album, 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), which attained more than 35,000 views on YouTube, New Zealand cosmic stoner and doom four-piece band Planet of the Dead are back with a new full-length album titled 'Pilgrims' (2021).

Hurtling towards the forever yawning void within their busted-up space freighter, they draw inspiration from classic science fiction and horror, and push supermassive and megalithic riffs to the outer limits.

"Our second album came together around the titular track 'Pilgrim', which is based on the book 'Slaughterhouse 5' by Kurt Vonnegut. Musically, it plays upon the themes of moments trapped in the amber." So says the band about this new album.

"Our basic concept is heavy music played heavy, and we try to keep it simple. There are recurrent themes in our riffs which gives the album a sense of coherence, but we've experimented with some new sounds in the latest album which we feel results in a greater sense of dynamism.

"Lyrically, we dug deeper into our obsessions with classic sci-fi and horror. There is a distinctive and undeniable fan-fiction element to our work. We actively seek out cultural references, and weave them into our tapestries. Ultimately, we do everything we do for the great god Dyzan, for his greater glory...and for our mutual pleasure.”

Set for release on July 23rd, 'Pilgrims' will surely cement Planet of the Dead’s reputation as serious riff merchants.

Follow The Band

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[yeeterparkersblog]

Last Days | PART 3

Pairing: 6 Underground! Four/Billy x reader

Word Count: 3.9 k

Warnings: Drinking, smut (Whaaaa?)

Summary: To everyone else, he was a suave young man in a gang of thieves, someone they would rather not get tangled up with. To you, he was a cheeky bastard who wouldn’t get out of your hair and most of all, a rival thief. But one day, he decides to reach out to you.

Publishing Date: 29 March 2020

A/N: Hello my dears! Thank you for being so patient with me. It’s been 2 months I think since I posted Part 2. Thank you for being so patient. I LOVE YOU. I had my midterms but now they’re over and everyone is in quarantine and practicing social isolation. Part 3 is quite short but it’s pretty satisfactory (I hope). Again I can’t say when I’ll post the next part, just know that I am trying my very best, under these circumstances, to write these fics. Thank you again! I love and appreciate you lots! (Also pls excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes I’ve made thanks)

PART 1  2

Pouring your heart out to someone you’ve known for less than a year, wasn’t exactly an easy feat. But you felt like you had to do it. If it weren’t for Billy, God knows the amount of debt you’d be in. Granted, he was the one who put you in debt. But the profit from the tiara would be more than you would have gotten from the Pasteque or the Blasé.

The cold wind sent goosebumps along your skin, causing an involuntary shiver. Though it could have also been due to your nerves. Your fidgeting hands picked at the sticker on the beer bottle until it had come off.

How would you put this?

“So long story short, I think I just wanted to say…” You concluded. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” He repeated, inching closer to hear your whispers.

“You are saving my life by giving me the chance to work with you.” You put down your beer bottle. “The tiara will give us 1 million each!”

“You do realize I stole the necklace and ring from you, right? That’s why you’re in debt.”

“Yes, but I spent a bit too much preparing for those that even if I did steal them, the profits wouldn’t be much.” Billy arched a brow curiously. “This time, however, you’re the one who’s paying for the preparation. I’m getting 100% of my profits, but you… How much did you spend anyway?”

“Well, how much was the Pasteque?”

“Christ, Billy…” You stood up from the bench suddenly. “3 Mil? This means you’re losing money!”

“Stop worrying about me (Y/N). I’m not the one deep in debt.” He lightly gripped your hand to pull you back on the bench next to him. “You need the money more than I do.”

A moment of silence passed between you two. You didn’t know what to say to him. He’s sacrificing millions for you. But why? Was he feeling sorry for you?

“You need the money more than I do.” You barely hear him utter those words. “You need to take all the money. Please.”

“What? No!” You looked at him with disbelief. “Billy, you deserve your share.”

“Well, you didn’t deserve what I pulled over the last few months. Take. The money.” He said almost harshly. “The 2 million? It’s all yours.”

“Stop making things so difficult!” Your voices started to raise, each trying to overlap the other’s.

“It’s not difficult. I’m giving you the money. Why won’t you take it?! Who’d refuse free money?”

“You’re just feeling sorry for me, and I refuse to accept your pitiful handouts.”

“This isn’t a pitiful handout. I’m just trying to help you!” He rose from his seat to stare you down. “Why won’t you accept my help?”

A pang in your chest. “Why do you care, Billy?” Your voice had started to tremble. “Why do you care how I do? Why would you willingly sacrifice so much to help me? You just care SO MUCH, don’t you?”

You buried your face in the palms of your hands. Wherever these sudden bursts of emotions had come from, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt ridiculous, in your huge green dress, weeping like a child in front of Billy.

You felt his warm hands wrap around you. “I can’t tell you why I care. But I just do.”

“You need to think about yourself too.” Your words came out muffled from behind your hands.

You started wiping your tears hastily and smearing mascara everywhere.

“Look.” You spoke before Billy could get a word in. “I… care about you too.”

Your words not only took Billy by surprise but you as well.

“I get that you’re just wanting to help me, or just trying to apologize. But, what about you? You need the mo-”

“I have money, (Y/N). This isn’t my third or fourth heist.” Billy scratched the back of his neck. “Unlike you.”

You were sitting on the fence here. You needed the money. The other million would help you out SO much. You just didn’t want Billy to lose so much to do so.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Answer the question yourself.” He merely sat back on the bench and stared out at the city. “Will the extra million help you?”

Silence once more. You, wondering if you can accept his offering. Him, wondering how else he can convince you to take the money. And he cared too much to give in.

“If I’m the reason why you’re not accepting the money, you have nothing to worry about. I have money from previous heists.” He suddenly turned to you. “Please don’t tell me it’s because of your pride or some other stupid thing?”

You paused to think. “And you are still working with the crew?”

“Yes.”

“You swear you have money from prior heists and the Blasé.”

“I have money from prior heists, I swear.”

His eyes watched as you bit down on lip in uncertainty, as you licked your lips to wet them. Your nose scrunched in concentration, weighing the pros and cons.

“Alright.” You started to speak. “If you really don’t mind… I’ll take the money.”

His fists thrust up in victory.  "Final-“

“On the condition that I will pay you back.”

Shrugging, he accepted your terms. “Only after you get out of that financial rut.”

A warm feeling spread in your chest. “I guess I owe you another thanks?”

“Love, you look like a raccoon.”

“Excuse me?” His comment was like whiplash on your sincere words. “I’m trying to…”

“The uh…” He playfully laughed, gesturing at the area around your eyes. “Mascara?”

“Fuck.” You rubbed at it, not succeeding to get it off at all. “Just…”

“It’s okay. You still look nice.”

“Sweet talk won’t get you anywhere, bugger.”

“You say that.” He put down his now empty beer bottle. “But I can see you biting back that grin.”

You chug down the rest of your beer to avoid his eye contact, slamming your bottle down next to his the moment you were done.

And then it was quiet again. You’ve said what you had come here to say. What else could you do? Just stare out at the magnificent view, then. Both you and Billy’s hands still lingering on the beer bottles in between.

It was comfortable, the silence. Not at all awkward like you had thought it would be. The glass bottle was still slightly cold, despite being taken out of the fridge some time ago.

Billy’s fingers were a sudden contrast to the bottle when they brushed against yours. You jumped slightly but said nothing. You, for some reason, didn’t need to think twice of what to do. You merely smiled to yourself as you returned his grasp.

Your fingers intertwine, ignoring the bottles now. Both pairs of eyes stared straight forward, and neither one spoke. But all the solace you needed was the comforting graze of his thumb over yours, just like he had done during the gala.  

Your pointer finger just tapped rhythmically against the back of his hand, not knowing what to do.

His hand was so big it almost engulfs yours. His palm was as rough as it looked. And his fingers? Thick enough to make your mind wander, and your cheeks flush. Biting down on your lip, you suppress those thoughts.

Your head tilts in his direction, to see that his emerald orbs were already gazing at you.

“Hi.” He whispered.

Was it the wind? Was it the cold night? Was it the way he spoke it? Because whatever it was sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Hi.” You smiled back.

With only the lone streetlight, you could barely see your surroundings. But even in the dark, you could see how intently and adoringly he studied you. The pupils of his eyes were dilated.

Heads inching closer and closer until your foreheads touched, and you could feel his ragged breath on your lips. They were hot. No words now. None of you dared to make a whimper.

It started softly. A teasing brush with just a bit of pressure. Like a dragonfly grazing the surface of the water, testing the waters. You could feel his lips curve up in a smile against yours.

How soft they were.

His lips were tender on yours, like he was mapping out every little curve. His arm dared to come up to cup your cheek as he continued to caress your mouth with his lips.

But the longer it went on, the more desperate and more passionate it got. It went from fleeting butterflies in your stomach to fireworks exploding and going off. His hands explored the curves of your body accentuated by your dress, while your hands made their home in his blond locks, gripping.

A moan escaped you when he bit down particularly hard. You pressed harder against his mouth in encouragement.

He took that as an invitation and parted your lips. You could taste the alcohol from the beer and champagne the two of you had been drinking. It was…intoxicating.

You couldn’t think straight. All you knew was that you wanted more. The heat between your legs demanded more.

You moved your leg to straddle him, but you had forgotten what sat between the two of you.

The two beer bottles fell to the pavement with a deafening crash, big glass shards shattering apart. The sound reverberated in the silent night and forced you and Billy out of your trances.

And both of you just stared at each other, frozen. You, caught halfway between a straddle, must have been quite the spectacle. Billy’s breath hitched in his throat, staring at the lipstick smeared and snogged all over your lips. He shifted uncomfortably.

He was the first to make a move- he shoved you off him. You flinched when he pushed you back into the bench, feeling your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.  

Puzzled, you watched as he squatted down to clean up the glass shards. A mixing pot of emotions brewed in your gut.

Frustration. Confusion. Rejection.

And they all felt ugly.

Why’d he pushed you off like that?

You watched bewilderingly from the bench. He couldn’t even face you right now? His back the only thing you could see, with the way he was positioned.

You’re starting to remember how you look. The black mess of mascara around your eyes. Both of you panting as if you had just run a mile. Your hair was probably a bird’s nest right now.

Though Billy’s hair wasn’t looking any better. You silently ran your eyes over the job you had done, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red when you recall the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

You felt your thighs clench.

Not the right time, (Y/N)!

“I’m sorry.” Billy suddenly spoke, standing up. He had taken the big shards of glass in his hand carefully. He breezed past you without meeting your eye and threw out the glass in a rubbish bin nearby.

Why was he sorry?

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.” His voice was strained. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Was he ashamed?

But you didn’t want to say anything either. You just got into the car with him and looked out the window, disappointed with how the night turned out. You had hoped that…

Never mind.

If you and Billy ever decide to talk about it, maybe you could blame it on the alcohol. It was certainly a factor. One too many flutes of champagnes, and the beer, you’d say. You could taste it on him, he could taste it on you.

The two of you may be sat next to each other in the car, but emotionally no one’s ever felt this distant.

Billy looked over at you. The dress and your messy bun had your back exposed to him. You hadn’t bothered to tidy up your hair.

A trail of barely visible nail marks had appeared along your spine, no doubt thanks to Billy. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Only that the front of his pants had felt tighter and he had to shift in his seat to feel more comfortable.

Sitting in the dreadfully silent car, you could only wonder two things.

1. How would the night have gone if the bottles hadn’t been knocked over?

2. How far would the two of you have gone?

But those questions weren’t meant to be answered. The night took a wildly different turn. He had decided to shove you off him.

And that hurt you more than you cared to admit.

A sense of dread washed over you as the car pulled into your apartment. The car came to a stop. Your grip on your purse tightened. What now?

Is he expecting you to leave right away? Perhaps you should say something. Something that had been bugging you.

“Billy,” Your voice came out weaker than you had expected, but it was enough to gauge his attention. “I hope you don’t think I only kissed you because you gave me money.”

“NO! No! I wasn’t thinking that.” He was nervous, fingers twiddling while he wracked his brain for something to say.

You dared to meet his eyes. They were wide with anxiety.

“Can I walk you back to your apartment?”

—

It feels like ages ago since the two of you were in this elevator together, though it has only been a few hours, earlier in the day.

While previously the two of you could successfully diffuse the tension, this time it was too much. Both your minds kept drifting back to the heated make-out session, too flustered to say anything. You tried to focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

You did your best to ignore Billy, who kept changing his stance, visibly uncomfortable.

You could have sworn that you thought Billy had the same feelings. That’s why you dared to go all in. But… he had pushed you off. Rather quickly too. Now everything’s become so painfully awkward.

“I’ll be back next week, okay?”

His voice sounded so loud in the small elevator.

“W-Why?”

“I’m going to give you the money.”

“Okay right.” You tilted your head curiously. “A week?”

“It’s going to take me a few days to get it to the proper pawn shops. I can’t sell the entire thing all at once. Too much suspicion.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s going to be in cash only.”

“Why…?”

“Cash is less traceable.”

“Oh okay.”

Dear God. Were ‘why’ and ‘okay’ the only words you could muster? You need a good slap.

From Bil- no.

You crossed your legs. You can see the unmistakable blush on your cheeks from the reflection. He could see it too.

“I’ll call you, okay?”

“What?!” Your exclamation was a tad too loud. Billy looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“To keep you updated…?”

“O-Oh, yes. Of course.”

Gosh. 'Painstakingly awkward’ couldn’t even begin to describe the mood. Hurry! Come on!!!!

A silent breath of relief escaped you when the 'ding!’ of the elevator was finally heard. One second later and you would’ve combusted from the tension.

You bunch up your dress in your arms and trudge out the small space, Billy following closely behind.

You unlocked your door and suddenly you didn’t know what to do. Would inviting him in be too weird? Perhaps you should just bid your goodbyes. Or say anything. Thank him? Yes, probably.

“Thank you. Again.” You let out a nervous laugh, which he hesitantly returned. “For the uh… 2 million.”

“Yes, you’re welcome. Not a big deal.” Pursing his lips, he briefly scanned your person. “And the earrings. Hopefully, you’ll keep them?”

“Oh! Of course. Yes. Thank you.”

And both of you just nodded like two idiots in the doorway of your apartment. You cringed inwardly. Now what?

“Hey, I’m quite tired… So uh.” You tapped on the door, mentally slapping yourself. God! What was that lame sentence?

“Okay, I’ll just leave you alone then.” Ouch. You looked anywhere but his person. “I’ll call you. Text you. Uh, whatever you prefer.”

“Yeah, I… thank you! Goodnight!” And you swung the door shut, praying that you didn’t come off as too insincere or rude. Because right now, you only had one thing on your mind.

“Fuck sake.” You whispered under your breath. “What was that?” You were bumbling and mumbling around like a shy schoolgirl talking to her crush, which was very unlike you! You’d rather not know how much you had been blushing.

But you knew your foggy mind was a result of something other than your nerves. You knew quite well what it was.

“Bloody wanker.” You cursed, finally giving in.

You made a beeline for the bathroom, fingers fumbling desperately with the zipper of your dress. If you had opened the door any harsher, it would’ve come right off its hinges.

Your dress pooled at your feet and you kicked it off hurriedly as you entered your small bathroom. Stopping just for a second to gawk and laugh at your reflection in the mirror. You did look like a raccoon, one that just had a heavy make-out session, that is.

You managed to wipe off your makeup in record time and hop in the shower.

Sighing loudly when the hot water from the showerhead hits your body, you lean against the other side of the wall. Not that it made much of a difference. The shower area was pathetically small, just enough room for you to spread one of your arms. How luxurious right?

Well, it was the apartment that you could afford. But now you’d have enough money to get out of this hovel. And you owed it all to one person.

It wasn’t just the hot water that was warming you up. Your mind kept drifting back to the hill. How hot and bothered you had become. How riled up you still are now.

Your fingers swiped over your lips, applying just the smallest amounts of pressure. His kiss still lingered on your lips, the fading taste of alcohol on the tip of your tongue.

Your finger trailed down between your breasts and along the curves of your figure. You could remember his starved touch, how the caress of his large hands left an ache between your legs. Oh, how you wanted to satiate it.

Your hand sneaked down to where you wish his had gone.

A strangled gasp escaped you as soon as you brushed your sensitive bud. That’s how pent up you were. Your cheeks reddened, because all you could think of was what he would say if he were here.

“So needy.” He would tease. “All for me.”

The hand on your lips inched up to your hair, gripping hard. If it were him, how hard would he pull? How far would he go?

You let your imagination ran wild. Your finger rubbed small circles on your clit, and you imagined it was his thick and large fingers instead of yours. His body would be pressed against yours, pressing you harder into the wall. His lips would be by your ear, asking you how good you felt, before they continued to make red marks down your neck.

Then his lips would trail down to your chest, his hot breath igniting the nerves of your skin before he wraps his plump lips around your nipple, sucking the sweet moans out of you.

“Count for me, love?” His already deep voice would be an octave deeper. The tip of his middle finger pressed lightly against your entrance. It sent jolts of electricity up your spine.

He slowly inserted the first finger, dragging out the feeling so you can take it in. It earned a whiny moan from you.

“O-One…” You breathed out.

His middle finger began to thrust in and out, his thumb still playing with your swollen bud. Your gasps and moans were music to his ears.

“Ready for more?” He grinned wickedly. His index finger came into play and yet another eager whimper escaped you. His fingers curled up in a come-hither motion, curling against the spot that has your toes curling.

“TwO- FUCK!” You bite down on your lip, hard. You were loud. Your free hand goes up to clamp your mouth while his fingers continue to pump in and out of you rhythmically.

“No, no.” He suddenly says, his other hand letting go of your hair to move to your jaw. He pulls away your hand covering your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

And so you did, staring straight into his greens while he soaks up every sweet moan and curse from you.

Then he added his third finger, adding onto the thickness, filling you up more. A loud cry left your lips from deep within your throat at the additional friction.

“You can take it?”

You just nod in reaction, desperately grinding against his fingers as a sign for more. He took in your response with a lick of his lips.

He began to quicken the pace of his pumps, and the pace of his thumb around your bud. You just hope you didn’t wake the neighbors as your head threw back in ecstasy, loud pants and moans filling the small room.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He groaned. “Such a good girl.”

Your eyes shut tightly as your mind clouded over. You couldn’t keep them open when you started to reach your high.“

"Are you gonna cum for me?” He asked, placing kisses on the tips of your chest. “Let me hear it. Let the whole floor hear you.”

You could see yourself on the small mirror of the other side of the wall. Your full breasts rising and falling, chest heaving. Your head against the wall while your jaw slacked wide open with filthy moans. You, chasing your high and getting off to imagination.

In the mirror, you see a glint of green through a blur of tears. The emerald earrings, still on your ears. You had forgotten to take them off. It turned you on further.

“Come on.” He says. “Scream my name.”

The pace on your clit quickens, the shine of the emeralds egged you on. All of it sent you over the edge. You couldn’t hold back your loud cry when you reached your toe-curling, back-arching orgasm. Your vision is white and eyes were squeezed shut, but you could still see his eyes savoring you as you fell apart.

“BILLY!” You moaned hard, knees buckling as you gasp for breath through your high.

“Good girl.” You barely hear his whisper through the muffled ring in your ears. You couldn’t feel anything besides the intensity between your legs.

But it ended sooner than you had hoped, and the feeling ended within a matter of seconds. You’re left to lean against the wall for balance while you blink away the white spots of pleasure, chuckling quietly at what you just did.

You steadied yourself with your arms. Your fingers were starting to cramp up.

It was suddenly so quiet, with just the sound of the water hitting your skin and the tiles. It felt so solitary, so empty. There hadn’t been a blond hunk that fingered you to orgasm. Oh, but wouldn’t it be nice if there had been?

You pumped a few blobs of shampoo into your palm, massaging it into your hair. Your reflection stared back at you. And so did the earrings.

Maybe... Just maybe... And you admit it.

You walked a few steps in front of the mirror, gazing at the emeralds. You smiled fondly.

Maybe you fancied Billy.

Tags:

@pippin248

@queenlover05

@sjeunhaelover

@takemetoneverland420

@onceuponadetectivedemigod

@dabitchisback​

If I forgot to tag you I’m sorry!!

[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | heaven-sent | part six

masterlist | series | part five

words: 2k+

warnings: mentions of death, abuse, fighting, swearing, drinking, aggression, non-consensual kiss

disclaimer: i in no way support the actions of billy. i just find his character interesting and want to explore it more with my oc. takes place from season 2. OC is hopper’s daughter.

summary:  she’s an angel. he may as well be the devil. one would not exist without the other.

The gentle hum of the engine is peaceful as the Camaro cruises through Hawkins. Billy doesn’t try to cover it with his music the way he usually would. After the night he’s had, he’s grateful for the quiet. He’s unable to forget the way his father’s fist collided with his face earlier, his cheek still throbbing painfully. His jaw aches, too, and he realises he’s been clenching it for hours. He relaxes it now as best he can, his attention drawn away from it entirely when they pass a bunch of wilted flowers placed randomly on the side of the road. There are unlit candles, too, the wax melted into the concrete.

“Someone die there or somethin’?” he asks without thinking.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Frances flinch and regrets asking. “Yeah. Her name was Barb.”

“Did you know her?” He glances at her, but she isn’t looking at him, her head turned away as she gazes out of the window.

“She was my best friend.”

Jesus. I’m—” He sucks in a breath, his grip tightening on the steering wheel sub-consciously. Sorry, he wants to say, but somehow the word doesn’t do it justice. “What happened to her?”

“She was killed.” She tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear, her eyes hardening as she turns them back on the road ahead. She still won’t look at him.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Did they catch ‘em?”

“No.” She shakes her head, her voice cracking. Her chest is heaving as though she’s suppressing a sob or is struggling to breathe. He shuffles in his seat, unsure what to do or say. He doesn’t need to force anything out: she continues before the right words come. “I should have been there that night. She begged and begged for me to come to this stupid party with her at Steve Harrington’s house. Nancy was forcing her. She wasn’t really part of that crowd and she didn’t wanna be alone, always said it was easier for her when I was there. She died alone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Billy replies softly. It’s easier for him to be soft in the dark; easier to allow himself to sound as though he gives a damn. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I did,” she hits back, looking at him now. Her eyes are shiny with tears, her hands clinging to her camera desperately. “I had this awful feeling in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe, all fucking night—only I thought it was because Jonathan’s brother was missing. I was so busy looking for him with my dad that I wasn’t there for Barb. Now she’s gone. And I knew.”

Her face is illuminated in the pale headlights passing on the other side of the road, and for a moment her eyes seem to flicker, blaze, change. Her irises, once a green that reminded Billy of the Californian sea on a rare, grey day, are now golden. He does a double take, almost swerving the car in the process, but when he looks again they look as they always did: murky ocean eyes half-hiding behind dark lashes and unruly bangs.

“Shit,” he curses, forcing his eyes back on the road. “Your eyes.”

She frowns, paling and pulling down the overhead mirror with enough force that Billy is worried she might break his damn car. “What?”

“Nothin’, I—” he stutters, blinking and looking at her again. Had he imagined it? Was it the light off the other car? “I thought you had something in your eye. It was nothin’.”

He pulls into the clearing where the trailer stands, lonely and grey against the black lake. The tyres roll against the gravel unevenly, the engine cutting out and replaced with silence.

“Your dad home?” he asks, just as he had the previous night. The trailer’s windows are dark, the house empty and solitary where it stands. He can’t imagine calling this place a home, even with his own circumstances.

“No,” she replies, unfastening her seat-belt slowly. “You wanna come in for a while? I could use that drink, now.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he takes the keys out of the ignition and grabs the bottle of whisky from beside him. “Sure. Why not?”

* * *

The trailer isn’t as small as it looks from the outside. It’s cosy, earthy, and he can imagine Frances pottering about on it on a Saturday, drinking coffee with the patterned curtains closed to block out the low winter sun. Still, he can’t imagine sleeping in this thing alone. They’re basically in the middle of nowhere. He can’t even smell cow shit out here, and the lake is eerily still even in the wind.

“Your dad work a lot?” He places the whiskey on the kitchen counter and she pulls out two glasses from the oak cupboards, standing on her tip-toes and arching her back to reach.

“Yeah. I’m used to it now.”

“You don’t get scared out here alone?” he teases, leaning against the counter.

She pours the whiskey carefully and slides his tumbler towards him, taking a sip of her own. If the burn fazes her, she doesn’t show it. “I’m always scared. Doesn’t make a difference if I’m out here or in the middle of town.”

“Because of Barb?”

She shrugs. Her cheeks are flushed from the short walk between the car and the trailer, making the small cut on her cheek appear redder than it did before. “Because of a lot of things. You need ice for that bruise?”

He had forgotten about it for the first time tonight. He touches it now as if to remind himself, trying to hide his wince as he realises how tender it is. “I’m good,” he says despite himself.

She rolls her eyes, kneeling down to rifle through the freezer. When she comes up, she’s holding frozen peas. She chucks them at him, and he catches reluctantly, pressing them gently to his face. “Thanks.”

“So, where did you move from?” she questions, leading him to the couch and sitting down, whiskey in hand. He follows, sitting beside her, perhaps a little closer than he had meant to. He doesn’t make an effort to budge down.

“California.”

“Yeah?” Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s a little different than Hawkins. What was it like?”

“It was …,” he sighs, unable to find the right words. Nobody had asked him that yet, really. Nobody in Hawkins cared about Billy’s old life. Sometimes, it no longer feels as though it exists at all. “It was home. I basically lived on the beach. Had bonfires most nights, spent my days out in the sun. There was always something happening, too. Carnivals, fairs, gigs. You’d love it. You'd get some amazing photographs.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, hanging on his every word. He can’t help but look at her again, at her eyes that he’d been sure had changed. They were still green, still the closest he could get to his favourite place. “I bet. You must miss it like crazy.”

“More than anything,” he admits, sipping his drink to distract himself from the sudden attention. “What about you, you lived here your whole life?”

“Actually, I lived in New York for a while when I was a kid. My mom still lives there with her new husband.”

“Did you like it?”

She shakes her head, leaning back into the couch as her eyes glaze over for a moment, remembering. “I did. Now, it just reminds me of things I’d rather forget.”

“Like?”

“I think I’ve told you enough of my little sob story tonight,” she laughs, but Billy can tell it isn’t genuine. He can’t help but wonder if they’re more alike than he thought, looking at the cut on her cheek again. Did the chief do that? He seems to walk around town in an eternally foul mood: it wouldn’t necessarily surprise him if he took it out on her.

He finds himself inching closer to her, so close that their foreheads are almost touching. “I like talking to you. You’re the only person in this shitty town I can stand to be around, even if you are all gloom and doom.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sarcasm drips from her words without conviction. He can hear her breath coming out quicker as he looks down at her soft, pink lips longingly. She doesn’t close the distance, so he takes it upon himself.

Their lips press together for only a moment before her hands are on his stomach, pushing him away. She stands up, crossing her arms over her chest as though she’s naked rather than fully clothed with layers of knitwear. Her face is bright red, her eyes blazing. “What the fuck, Billy?”

“What?” he replies cluelessly, raking his hand through his hair and pretending as though his cheeks aren’t heating up in embarrassment. He can’t remember the last time he was rejected.

“What?” Frances repeats in disbelief. “God, what was this? Were you just trying to get into my pants the entire fucking time? Driving me home, getting back my camera, listening to me when I talk about my dead friend and my cheating boyfriend because I’m a fucking idiot who thought that maybe you weren’t so bad, that maybe you actually gave a shit?”

He’s speechless, licking his dry lips as he tries to figure out what to say. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would I ever want that? I just ended a two-year relationship with my best fucking friend.”

“And I’m great at rebound sex,” he answers as though it’s obvious. He can feel anger beginning to bubble in him, not because he’s mad at her words, but because she’s yelling—and he still doesn’t know why. “Why else am I hear, Fran? You wanna talk about feelings all night while you braid my damn hair? Cuddle by the fuckin’ fire with a mug of hot cocoa, marshmallows on top? You’re not stupid. You know I’m not that guy.”

Tears are pricking her eyes again, and this time she doesn’t blink them back. He’s not sure she even knows she’s crying in her own, blind rage. “So all of this was just for sex? All of it?”

Billy softens at the sadness in her voice, his elbows digging painfully into his thighs as he puts his head in his hands and takes a breath. “No, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan all this just to screw you. I just … When you invited me in, I thought—”

“Thought you’d shoot your shot,” she finished bitterly. “Of course you did; of course opening my door to you automatically meant opening my legs, too. You’re a fucking asshole, Billy. I don’t know why I let you in. I don’t know why I let any of this happen. Just get out.”

“Fran—” he says desperately, standing up from the couch and walking around the coffee table to meet her.

“Get out, Billy!” Frances shouts. “Get the fuck out!”

She pushes him backwards with more force than he’d been expecting, sending him flying straight into the door. It falls open against his weight, and he falls with it, landing on the porch. His defeated, shocked body is illuminated by the white porch light.

Frances stands in the doorway, speechless. Clearly, she had been expecting this as much as he had.

“Jesus!” he yells when he’s able to find the words. It hurts him, being treated this way. He could take it from his father, his friends, the shitheads he beats up at school and parties, but he hadn’t been expecting her to touch him like that—and it’s clear she hadn’t meant to by the way she looks at him as though he’s broken, as though she’s broken him, though she can’t know what this means to him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Fuck you,” she whispers weakly as he pulls himself up, using the fence as support. “Leave me alone, Hargrove.”

“Gladly,” he responds, his upper lip curling in contempt. His hands are balled into fists as he marches away, barely sparing her a glance as he slams the door of the Camaro shut after sliding into the driver’s seat. His tyres struggle against the gravel, spitting out dust and dirt as he speeds away, watching her retreating figure standing in the threshold of the trailer in the rear-view mirror.

part seven

[ofbloodmagick]

ROSE ARABELLA GORE

pronouns: SHE & HER + THEY & THEM

age: TWENTY - FIVE

sexuality: PANSEXUAL * DEMIROMANTIC * MONOGAMOUS

astrological signs: GEMINI SUN * SCORPIO MOON + ARIES RISING

occupation: BARTENDER @ DUTCH’S + MULTIPLE SIDE HUSTLES

+ traits: PERSUASIVE. ARTISTIC. RESILIENT. FASCINATING. ORIGINAL. RESOURCEFUL. WISE. ADVENTUROUS. BOLD.

-- traits: ECCENTRIC ( CREEPY ). SECRETIVE. DAMAGED. RESTLESS. TWO-FACED. JUDGMENTAL. RECKLESS. IMPULSIVE.

faceclaim: BILLIE LOURD

soul sounds: PLAYLIST !

aesthetic: ( TW: BLOOD ) BOARD !

YO YO YOU YO — it’s lydia here with my lil blood witch arabella , i have yet to get the chance to  r e a l l y  play her and i’m super excited for the chance bc i love them so very much. i have headcanon after headcanon for them , so hit me up if you want to do something bc i am ready to do some shit. anyway , LYDIA ( nary , nettle , snottie , etc. ) here again and i love a good name change , i’m twenty-five years old , a pansexual demigirl ( she / her * they / them ) like arabella themselves , and i reside in the central timezone ( FLORIDA IS HELL ). continue reading to learn all about ARABELLA GORE — the intense , mysterious clever little powerhouse that loves to be number one. 

PERSONALITY

RULING PLANETS: pluto — planet of power & regeneration * mercury — planet of communication * mars — planet of war & energy BODY PART: crotch * reproductive organs * shoulders * hands * head * face GOOD MOOD: resilient , magnetic , passionate , loyal , protective , artistic , brave , fascinating , original , resourceful , wise , adventurous , unstoppable , bold , devoted  BAD MOOD: obsessive , possessive , jealous , secretive , vengeful , manipulative , eccentric ( creepy ) , restless , two-faced , judgmental , proud , self-centered , impulsive , bossy , stubborn , reckless  ( SOME ) FAVORITE THINGS: obscure underground music , spicy food , an air of danger , one of a kind objects , organic ingredients , vinyl , magic , the color black , horror films , blood , fast cars , guitars , new clothes , road trips ( in fast red cars ) , expressing themselves through stunning verbal and physical feats ( SOME ) THINGS SHE HATES: simple small-minded people , insincere flattery , personal questions , living at someone else’s house , mornings , dress codes , authority figures , silence   SECRET WISHES: to have complete and total control +  to have all the answers + to be number one HOW TO SPOT THEM: intense eyes , hawk like gaze , smooth movements , dry blood/bruises/cuts/scars on pale skin , silver hair , big black bow , mischievous twinkle in their eyes , talking with their hands , focused or manic energy , aggressive stance WHERE TO FIND THEM: listening to bauhaus in her dark room , sitting at the corner table of a shitty underground bar smoking a cigarette , selling her magic and / or blood in some dimly lit room  KEYWORDS: intimacy , secrecy , power , intensity , obsession , cleverness , wittiness , inventiveness ,  ingenuity , willpower , initiative , determination , passion , self-belief

arabella’s mind and mouth are busy machines , always moving at warp speed. this witch is one of the most curious and cutting-edge individuals you will meet. there are at least two personalities inside of her at all times. adventurous , she can change her mind faster than the weather and is constantly flipping between moods. 

a true pioneer and trailblazer they’re the first to initiate things , fight for their beliefs and fearlessly put themselves out there. headstrong and determined , ella’s energy can be stubborn and willful a lot of the time. she does have a tendency to dig in her heels , stand her ground and absolutely refuses to be pushed around. 

they will butt their own metaphorical horns against the same obstacle until they break it down — often with sheer force of will. extremely confident , she believes in herself and will on occasion champion others she deems worthy.

she does love to chatter and has a million great ideas , always keeping a notebook handy to jot down her thoughts and ideas at any time. at times , their energy can circulate in a quick and frenetic way , the silver haired wiccan is known to inspireswitty wordplay and dynamic dialogue. 

when she applies herself , arabella is great at brainstorming and socializing. she also craves her “ twin flame ” and kindred spirit’s energy , always up for an intellectual meeting of the minds. 

under the influence , they find themselves with the gift of gab; talking and conversing with others for hours , hopping from pop culture trends to deep political topics. beware “ gossip girl ” ella though , they can crank up the rumor mill sometimes unknowingly. as renowned dr. bernie siegel says , “ [ we ] have the ability to cure with either ‘ words ’ or kill with ‘ swords. ' ” 

powerful and sensual arabella is perhaps one the most misunderstood and mysterious person you could ever meet though. secretive by nature , this southern witch tends to linger in shadowy and hidden places that most wouldn’t usually have the courage to face.

she believes strongly in life , death and resurrection and arabella embraces these life cycles. she is continually transforming and reinventing herself. there are actually more like four sides of arabella and it really just depends how she feels about you.

the first is venomous and possessive like a scorpion ; the second as slippery , charming and deadly as a snake ; the third like a soaring eagle whose piercing gaze sharply observes the landscape ( and its prey ) below ; and the fourth side ever burning and all seeing as a phoenix that rises up from the ashes into eternal rebirth.

your muse may find themselves dealing with an intense individual with lots of energy. she has been known to hole herself up late at night to process complex emotions or channel her overwhelming feelings into focused work and creativity.

the essence of arabella’s personality is magnetic , fascinating , original , passionate , loyal , protective , trendsetting , controlling , unstoppable , bold , powerful , resourceful , wise , adventurous , focused , bond oriented and brave. on the flip side though , she can also be obsessive , possessive , jealous , prideful , self-centered , impulsive , bossy , stubborn , reckless , competitive , two-faced , judgmental , overwhelmed , secretive , vengeful , to even cruel , calculating and manipulative. 

she channels her intuitive tides into a forceful stream of psychic and healing energy. arabella excels in exploring the darker , unexamined sides of life. it has given her excellent research and sleuthing skills , helping her plumb the depths and peer below the surface. this witch likes a challenge , but she does have to really try hard not to fall into being selfish and domineering.

she will without question help out in the darkest hours; this witch bitch is not afraid to go into the murky waters of the emotional and spiritual unknown. intense feelings surface around her closest ties , but around those she isn’t close to ella has a wall up.

believes strongly in merging , bonding and sharing resources. she may get obsessive about a passion project or lover ( forrest ) , even becoming jealous or insecure. this mysterious demigirl wants to hide all of their vulnerabilities. yet , those raw and unprocessed feelings are often their access to power.

arabella can be tricky to understand. with her reserved persona , she seldom starts a conversation or expresses interest in others openly — unless she feels out the situation first.

once you get her to open up , however , you’ll feel her scorching passion for whatever topics fascinate her. be warned: arabella can focus on one subject to an extreme , so you may be in for a deeper dive than you or your muse expect — or want lol

her natural charisma can quickly pique someone else’s interest in the topic too though. 

another way to spot the witch ? look for her piercing gaze , which is hawk like at times narrowing in on her “ prey ”. if you happen to be the focus of that look , watch out.  you will feel read as easily as a children’s book as arabella seems to just KNOW all your secrets , soft spots and fears.

their focused attention can be addictive , even painful when pulled away. be careful how quickly you fall down their rabbit hole — it’s not as easy to crawl back up once you do. when you befriend them , you are likely entering into a power couple or formidable alliance. while she doesn’t give up loyalty and trust easily , once she does she’ll stick with you through thick and thin.

don’t even think about double crossing her tho bc she WILL unleash her fury on you , divulging secrets and airing dirty laundry or worse. revenge is her favorite dish to serve and it’s ice cold. on a positive note , arabella’s like the perfect person to help explore darker emotions or sexuality , happy to guide most through fifty plus shades of irresistible and soul communing experiences.

arabella can come across as clever and quick-witted , but part of the fun ( and curse ) of interacting with the witch is that you’re never quite sure which personality you’re going to experience. will it be the vivacious jokester or the snarky , mean-spirited critic ? 

although they may crave complete and utter control over everything , they secretly yearn for the very thing they fear: true intimacy with others. it takes a lot for ella to reveal her vulnerability , so guard that privilege with the utmost care. as she opens up and learns to show her shadow side , she can heal in ways that are truly profound.

highly impatient and competitive , they have the fighting spirit. ella were born to be number one , a star who steals the spotlight and inspires with her confidence. yeah , they can be impatient , even a little bossy , especially when they don’t get their way. she need lots of attention and can throw quite the tantrum when she doesn’t get it. fortunately , arabella rarely has a problem turning heads.

others love to follow as they take the lead on the latest adventure. she has to be reminded to make sure and let other people be the boss every now and then too , because she has a tendency to alienate potential allies. when they focus their competitive streak into a diva-worthy goal and delegate , they will always rise to the top !

they have a lot of energy , which they apply to everything from tackling supersized projects to unleashing their lusty libidos with forrest. this confident demigirl is known to leap before looking , diving into each new experience with a zest for life that few others can muster. 

they love to be number one and can be a bit of a trendsetter. she has been described before as ‘ a true original who inspires the rest. ‘ with all of their fire power and can-do attitude , there’s nothing arabella can’t ( or won’t ) take on. at times , ella can be selfish or overly focused on herself and it can be a “ blind spot ” for them , they may need a gentle reminder from time to time to share. 

she likes to shatter glass ceilings but can also be off-putting to people in extreme doses. this go-getter can come across as abrasive or overly aggressive , however; arabella will never back down from a challenge and can take on being the champion of those in distress when need be.

BACKGROUND

( TW: child abandonment ) so arabella doesn’t know her parents are but she does know that they ended up in some small southern town called suspiria , located in virgina of all places. her mother was really into the surface level southern gothic aesthetic suspiria offered and the unlikely couple settled there until arabella was born. her parents didn’t keep her very long though seeing as their shotgun wedding was never built to last and after she was born they both returned to where they came from or at least that’s as far as the story goes if you ask anyone in suspiria. 

( TW: military ment. , death ) her parents actually went their separate ways , her mother returned to her wealthy family and comfortable life never to seek out the unnamed child she’d left behind in some no name town. her father went on to join the military and was lost in the line of duty with no one to even pass that knowledge on. 

the infant rose , as they were first called back then , was left on the doorstep of an orphanage and that was where they would spend their childhood. it was not a pleasant place to grow up at all , but she was incredibly lucky in finding her twin flame in a sad , lonely young boy also growing up there.

little ella was never once adopted and she made damn sure to change the minds of anyone who so much as looked in her direction or asked her name. they grew an unhealthy attachment to forrest almost the minute they laid eyes on him , but they are connected very deeply and even as children arabella was acutely aware. 

growing up ( maybe even to this day ) they were considered a loner , an outsider , the weirdo , a creepy kid , etc. and the bullying only got worse. the people in the shitty children’s home and the tiny backwoods town in virginia ? they didn’t really respond too well to the two strange kids that collected animal bones and hunted for ghosts. 

in their early teen years ella started practicing satanism , but that was really just a gateway religion into wicca and her true passion , witchcraft. forrest took to it just as quickly as they did and soon the two had formed their own little coven , something that didn’t stay secret very long.

forrest , being the more scholarly of the two , found himself working for the governor on his campaign and eventually recruited arabella to do the same , but she worked more closely with the governor’s wife and the children. it only took a week , two tops , for the power hungry woman’s true intentions to came to light — dark magic.

( TW: cheating , infidelity )it’s true that ella helped with the gardening , the children , the cleaning , the cooking , all the usual suspects but she also did a number of spells involving blood and shadows. the items they created most for the governor’s wife was their own recipes for love potions and anti-aging blood serums. the woman was extremely suspicious of her husband having affairs with younger women , pretty self explanatory as to why she was seeking help from a known magic user. 

( TW: blood ment. , devil ment. ) it was something of a hot topic in suspiria , the governor and his family hiring the two freaky orphans and why. not long after , a photo was leaked of the governor’s wife as arabella painted her face in the bright crimson blood serum they had concocted themselves. it was common knowledge by then that the two practiced witchcraft and suddenly every headline was about the governor and his wife being ‘ corrupted by the evil devil worshipers the kind family had taken pity on. ‘ 

( TW: assault ment. , death , arson , house fire ) the town ? literally ready to burn them at the freaking stake and the two couldn’t go anywhere without fear of assault of some sort or worse. to make matters all the worse , the governor’s wife and children perished suddenly in a terrible house fire and who was the easiest target to pin it on ? arabella and forrest , the two town rejects , which is exactly what the governor did. they were treated as murderers , hunted like criminals , which is why as soon as they found out about the raging fire they left town. 

( TW: death ) for the next four years arabella and forrest were on the run from the governor and his goons , not stopping in any one place for very long for fear of being caught up to. over a year ago they finally got word that the governor had kicked the bucket and that anyone still looking for them likely had stopped by now. not long after , arabella came across a beautiful , vintage gothic home far more expensive than it was priced , but luckily for them the home had a rather grisly history and had been on the market for so long that the owners had cut the asking price tremendously.

( TW: scamming ) arabella was convinced that it was a sign from the universe letting them know it was okay to settle down for good now and once she’s convinced there’s no real changing her mind. so , by halloween of 2019 they were moving into the beautiful gothic home of the witch’s dreams and not long after they had rooms in their ‘ haunted home ‘ listed on every website possible to lure in dark tourists everywhere. how true everything is ? well , the two did take quite a few creative liberties and the occasional diehard , truly experienced fan of the paranormal would ( possibly have ) call them con artists. 

( TW: scamming ) not only do they rent out rooms , but they also have the occasional ‘ murder tour ‘ of their ‘ serial killer ‘ house. what it really boils down to is arabella has been hustling their whole ass life and it’s never going to stop. there is quite a bit of truth to their stories , but though both ella and forrest have encountered the paranormal multiple times in their lives , not just in pleasance either , they’ve never had any real activity that could count as reliable proof. everything involving the businesses run out of the house are little more than sideshow entertainment for pleasance dark tourists.

( TW: blood ) the witch also has a part time job working for jules at dutch’s , her official title would be a bartender but she really just does what is asked of her. you probably guessed it already , but she does also have a side operation selling her blood magic from underneath the bar at dutch’s and they’re hopeful that their boss is none the wiser.

ETC.

she does still have a slight accent because she is from such a small town where everybody had a drawl or twang. she doesn’t have a good education by typical societal standards , because she had such shitty public education growing up as an orphan and no one who enforced her learning or attending. they are , however;  incredibly street smart and by no means stupid. they have since taught themselves how to learn in a way best for them and are always devouring book upon book in order to teach themselves things otherwise she may never know. 

( TW: blood ) ella is a blood witch and often uses her own blood , animal blood , someone else’s blood , pretty much if there’s blood in any form she’s set. she 100% sells her magic to anyone who wants it and does dabble in the shadow side. it might not actually work all the time , but that’s not entirely her fault. 

( TW: bruising / injury ment. , blood , scar ment. , self harm ) a pretty big feminist , used to be in an all femme band called the hex girls ( come for me ) , goth and proud ??? a really big horror movie fan , pansexual demigirl representinggg ! always has bruises and cuts , dried blood covers their skin a lot where they miss it or just don’t care to hide it , also has quite a few scars from where she’s cut too deep ( some maybe on accident , some maybe on purpose ).

( TW: blood ) ella’s very creative ! they like to read , write , make art — out of blood lol she uses blood of all types to create a lot of art. she takes blood baths ( animal blood ) occasionally on the full moon , drinks animal blood during certain rituals , etc. also super into bone and taxidermy , you can definitely find her at deblanc’s. they also like to haunt the cemetery and creep around spotlight cinema , film is a big passion of hers. 

( TW: drugs & alcohol ment. , blood ) DOES imbibe lol a partaker of alcohol ( prefers animal blood with red wine or vodka ) and certain drugs. ella definitely smokes weed & cigarettes , they enjoy partying just like the rest but she’s more reserved and likes to people watch.

okay so it’s getting late and i can’t believe how long this intro actually took me to finish tweaking , but if you want to plot with me pls pls pls hit me up bc i’d love to do some stuff !! my tumblr DMs are always open and you can always hmu on discord too !! i also write bryce winslow ( milo ventimiglia FC ) but you likely know that lol. i’m sure there’s more i could say about arabella honestly , but if you have any specific things you’d like to know or it seems like i left something out or need to take a second look at something i’d appreciate any / all feedback. can’t wait to get some replies out , but that might have to wait until the morning. @phqextras​

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 32

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there's the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day.

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?" As I'd squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I'd been asked it so far. "Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?" While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood.

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words.

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he'd greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. "How is she? What's the bloody progress?" At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. "How much longer?" And then he'd meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition.

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I'd scream. And I had moments of it, trust me.

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved?

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a "let's see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins" was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt.

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the 'undisclosed medical' location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and 'died' implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people's brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women.

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of 'clean her blood again' reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy's urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn't an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that's right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went "nuclear" he hadn't been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn't want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely.

The issue wasn't simply that they didn't know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn't simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these 'real doctors' had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge.

Oh and that wasn't all, even IF they figured out how to 'neutralize' the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn't that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I'd had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different.

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself.

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written.

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander's voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself.

I was sitting in the soft chair they'd brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the 'view'.

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. "How will you do it?" I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. "When you kill me, how will you do it?"

"Veronica," I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. "I wouldn't-"

"Frenchie then?" I tilted my head considering. "MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-" I stopped and took a breath. "Kimiko?" I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. "I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey." My voice wasn't loud and it didn't sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. "If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or," I sighed, and bit my lip, "it would finally give you a reason to take her out too."

"Ronnie, love, that's not gonna-" I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. "Ronnie?"

"Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you." My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. "I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do." I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. "You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time." I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. "It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it." He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he'd have to work to touch me. "So, how will I die, Billy?"

"You'll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica." I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. "When you're sick of me, remember?" I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream.

"Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan," my eyes were still on the window. "This isn't going away, Billy, what he put in me isn't going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him." My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. "You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you'll start to consider my pressure points." I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. "And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you." His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I'd had. "Oops, I guess I just planned it for you."

"Please don't." He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn't the truth, that he wouldn't lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca's cause of death. "Don't do this."

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.

[emptynarration]

AUs and Verses (Short Edition)

Here’s a collection of my favorite AUs and Verses! Hopefully a bit shorter and more easily understood uwu

[HERE’S THE LONG EDITION, WHICH INCLUDES A COUPLE MORE TINY VERSES!!! DO CHECK THIS OUT AS WELL if you’re interested]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Normal / Default Verse

[Here’s the story of how Author turned into Host!]

Author was very greedy. He wanted to become a literal god. His greed attracted an actual old god, who abused Author’s greed.

The old god, named Alden, forced Author to gouge his own eyes out.

After Author passed out, after mutilating himself, Alden “possessed” Author’s body. Normally, its omnipotence destroys human minds. But not Author’s.

Due to neither being able to overpower/destroy the other, they came to a compromise, and share the body between them. Their body was named “Host”, as it now hosts the old god together with Author.

Over time, they grew so intertwined, that they’re one very well working person, while also still being their own.

Twisted Minds AU

[Here are the Fanfics I wrote about the whole AU]

The egos all live in a manor together, everything was alright.

One day, the body Dark used rotted away, and got too hard to keep going; so he had to leave it. Without a human body containing the entity which is Dark, slowly seeped into the manor again, even though he tries his hardest to stay contained in what was once his office.

Due to his shell-less self, everyone was slowly changed. Emotions brought to extremes, personalities flipped, appearances growing inhuman, etc.

[Here’s a little post about the gist of it all]

Author was also affected, like everyone else. But, due to Dr Iplier wanting to use Author in an experiment, and things going sour for the writer, he was thrown “into” Dark. He nearly died. He was changed, his sight gone and powers changed.

This made him into Host. And Host, due to his powers, realized how wrong this reality is, and how fucked up it is. Thus breaking him out of the cycle of madness, as well as making him a terrified being.

Cursed AU

Set in a fantasy world, slightly medieval perhaps.

Author and Host are brothers. They live in a cabin in a forest, away from other people, happy with only themselves as company.

One day, someone Author angered tried to kill him. But instead of Author, Host was hit, and was quickly dying from a curse.

Author didn’t care when he was hit with a curse as well, angry, wanting to kill that woman, but Host dying in his arms took priority.

The curse Author was hit with was worse, though. It turned him into a sort of “undead” state. And to stay “healthy” and strong, he had to leech the life-force from other people. The touch of his bare skin does so.

He unintentionally quickened Host’s death.

Author was cursed to live forever with this curse, unable to die. Due to the strong connections between the brothers, as well as the circumstance of his death, Host is stuck as a ghost.

Host is technically bound to the cabin, but, Author wears the same slightly magical necklace that Host had. This makes Host able to go with Author, though not stray too far from him.

Teeny Twins AU

[Here is a collection of Fics I’m writing!]

All of the egos are a little younger than typically (Between 24-38 on average, outliers being Magnum, Dark, Wilford being older, and Host, Author being younger)

Author and Host are twins and live together in their cabin in the woods.

They know where the egos live and visit them quite often.

They have their respective powers, but don’t know their full extends.

Neither of them wants to be anything like a god or something alike; the thought alone makes them uncomfortable and even scared.

They are quite mysterious but also total rascals. Favorite past time: pranks. They’re best friends with the Jims and Bing due to that.

Author is more active, energetic, and reckless. Host is more quiet and thoughtful.

everything i wanted AU

[Here’s two little fics I wrote about it]

Host and Author are twins. They grew up very close, and were eventually taken in by Dark and Wilford.

Author was very very open to explore his own powers, always pushing and pushing and pushing.

Dark, with the excuse of fearing Author would be a danger to himself and especially others, banished Author into the void, where Host had also gotten hurt in the process.

Author sort of became one with the void, gaining strange weird powers. With them, he managed to escape the void -just in time to save his brother, who didn’t want to live without him.

Swap AU

Egos’ “roles” and sorta their powers being switched around!

Host is “swapped” with Dark.

He is monochrome. He wears a black trenchcoat and black tights, as well as knee-high black combat boots. He has a bright strand of hair, no eyes, and bandages around his eyes.

[Here’s some info about the AU and Host’s/Dr Iplier’s/Dark’s/Wilford’s backstory!]

He is called Darkiplier in this AU (pronounced Dark-eeplee-er? sorta french lol).

He talks in third person as a comfort mechanism.

He doesn’t really have a goal like normal Dark (getting revenge on Actor) but he takes care of the other egos and keeps them safe and in check.

He does his radio show still, but has no narrating powers.

Florist AU

[Here’s the main artwork for it]

Author is a very soft boy, and a florist.

He writes very dark and gruesome stories he publishes online in his free time.

He lives in a pretty much one room apartment right above his flower shop. He’s not very wealthy, but he survives.

He loves tattoos, but is shy about getting more than the one he already has (plus money is a slight problem).

Painter AU

[Here's some art for it]

A human AU! Every ego is a human

It's focused on Author, but Host also exists as his twin brother!

Author is a somewhat famous painter, but he doesn't really care about the money. He's super clumsy and ditzy, a whole himbo mess really. But he looks like a hot fashion model.

Author is more the traditional medium guy. Mainly painting, but also sculpting, pencil drawings, illustrations.

Host is more the digital artist. Mainly illustrations, but also some painting stuff, also uses 3D sculpting for art purposes. Probably works with video games, making art, doing some voice acting.

Wilford is one of Author's friends and a fashion designer. He recommends models (and friends) for Author. He drags Dark to their friend-meetings a lot.

So Dark's a singer. Just wanted to sing for fun, but somehow it turned into popularity (like Billie Eilish whoops)

So Eric is Dark's boyfrend and makes music with him. Plays piano. Sings a little but very shy to do so anywhere other than a little for Dark's songs. Too nervous to meet the gang but everyone knows from dark talking about Eric anyways

The Jims twins work mainly on the video game Host helps working on as well. They both do the writing, but only one of them also does programming. They eventually meet up with Host sometime after a lot of only online talking and somehow love happens eventually

Little Demon AU

Host is a demon, still called Host.

He is 7 inches tall.

He has dark purple horns and two tails, and no bandages, but keeps his eyes closed.

Looking into his eyes will cause the looker to be pulled into their own mind and be faced with their deepest and darkest fear.

Host will be able to see that and interact with the person there, but also leave them there alone to suffer.

He can “teleport” short distances, mostly through shadows.

Harpy AU

Host has no name he goes by, but will let anyone name him.

He is 8 inches tall.

He’s a brown thrasher harpy.

He has slightly darker skin (than Mark), short, like brown fuzz on his head resembling hair; white feathers with dark spots on his chest and hips down his thighs, where his legs then turn into bird’s feet; dark brown, almost black eyes. His wings have light brown feathers.

He mainly eats fruits, berries, nuts and insects.

He isn’t afraid to attack anything larger than him, going so far as to attack humans if he has to.

Mermaid AU (other versions depending on size!)

Host goes by the name of Host.

He had almost been caught once by humans, which resulted in the loss of his eyesight, and thick scars over his eyes.

His scales are golden. His fins are slightly see-through, and tipped green. His ears are fins. He has fins on his underarms. He has scales on his shoulders and arms.

He has scales that glow in the dark, and markings on his face which also glow in the dark (not visible unless glowing)

He’s a siren, and thus can speak and understand English.

Underwater mermaids communicate via clicking sounds (kinda like morse code, but different).

Human AU [Second Version]

Host is named Markus Barker. Sometimes uses Host as nickname.

He is either: Born blind (sclera/pupil milky).                       Blind due to a disease (Neuromyelitis Optica).

He lives on his own with his pets. He either:     Lives in his cabin in the forest.                       Lives on the outskirts of town with a garden.

He has an older brother (Arthur, world-wide known author).

He works on a rather popular podcast as main-narrator. He also either: Works at a radio station.                    Stays at home (financial help from his brother).

Can also go with human Author, the aforementioned brother of Host.

Both can also exist without brother.

Human Slave AU

Host is named Markus Barker. Host is his nickname though

He is either: Born blind (sclera/pupil milky).                       Got his eyes gouged out by an owner.

He had been sold as slave when he had been a young child (around 4 y/o?).

[kensboytoy]

Smile, Darn Ya, Smile!

Title: Smile, Darn Ya, Smile! Fandom: Smile For Me Pairings: Dr. Boris Habit/Reader (Gender Neutral) Ratings: Explicit

Flower Child.

The name was almost an insult at this point when you heard that poor excuse for a Muppet turn to the camera and speak directly into your soullike it had been watching you night and day. You knew from day one that Dr. Habit wasn’t the goody-goody-gumdrops man filled with rainbows and sunshine - hell, most folks in the Habitat knew it too and were unsettled. So why did you all stay? Were so many people rooted in place from crippling depression?

Or maybe something intoxicating was in the air.

Either way, your campaign to brighten up these people’s lives wouldn’t stop with a few measly puppety threats. Simple requests led to big smiles. And wasn’t that the entire reason that you were there?

But a King sat on the ivory throne of pearly white teeth, scowling at how his kingdom was unraveling. How you were becoming the Flower Hero and he nothing more than a knave. A bubbling jealousy was brewing within the scorned man. He wanted to make everyone smile! They didn’t deservethe free-wheeling right to do so unless he commanded! The Big Event was almost here and you were ruining it.

[Continue Reading or Read on AO3!]

Oh, he could get rid of you easily. However, suspicion would grow if he didn’t plan it right. If you vanished without a trace? Well, he could say that you went back home. Although the people in Habitat were naive, there was no way they’d fall for that. You were too involved here - you had some sort of stake in Habitat now. Like a tick on a dog’s back. Sucking the life out of Dr. Habit and making his patience wear thin.

As night fell upon The Habitat, you sauntered your way through the halls to get to your room. You let out a languished yawn, your eyes growing heavy. The sun had only just started to hide behind the hills when you started to feel funny. Not the usual tiredness from a long day. You felt woozy. Steadying yourself on the guardrail leading up to your room, your free had clutched at your head. There was no one around to help you up the tedious flights of stairs that now felt like climbing a tall mountain.

Slowly, you crumpled, defeated by the sudden crushing weight of gravity. You called out. But nobody came.

”It’s so very totally rude to keep sleebing.”

The darkness that clouded your mind was starting to come back. A voice that sounded like TV static started to trickle into your ears. You swore that you were drowning in the abyss before your lungs finally reacted to inhale much needed oxygen. A few shaky breaths and you finally started to come to. The stinging smell of copper filled your nostrils as you took in long, greedy breaths as if they would be your last. What was that smell?

”Ignoring me! You’re ignoring me! May-be… I oughta wake you up, up, up!”

The voice was louder. Mocking you. A deep, mocking voice laced with an accent your dizzy brain couldn’t place at the moment.

Before you could find the strength or the voice to reply to the voice, you felt something sharp against your cheeks. They felt like daggers against your flesh but you weren’t quite convinced they had cut you. No, they were prodding you. Fishing around and then - then something was on your mouth. Pulling. Pulling your mouth open tight.

That was when your eyes snapped open with a sudden bolt of adrenaline. Panicked, your breathing quickened as you scanned the inquisitive face peering at you now. Green. Green…

“Ah, there you is! Wakey-wakey!” the madman giggled. It was his hands that were on your face. Sharp fingers that felt like claws were still adjusting whatever was holding your mouth open.

“Doctor?” you croaked, voice breaking apart from how dry your throat was. It felt like sandpaper just trying to rattle out that word alone.

Dr. Habit was smiling at you, though it wasn’t exactly sincere like all of the posters of him had been. There was menace behind it - a threat.

“Ah, look-y who the smarty-er-pants is!” Dr. Habit cooed mockingly. “Oh, so very smart for guessing who I am. But I bet you still don’t know where you are~!”

With your heart still racing and the new stinging of your face, you let your eyes frantically glance around as your vision came back to you. Sterile. Weirdly cramped. An office? Glancing down, you noticed your immobile form all strapped up to what looked to be an examination chair. Oh. You knew where you were now.

“Your-”

“Thaaaaat’s righty-right, Flower Brat! You’re in my office! A very special appointment for a very special little Flower.”

You heard a swift kick of his foot against the metal pedal of the chair’s release that sent your seat in an uncomfortable backwards position. A yelp of surprise left you as well as an alarming amount of saliva down your chin that your mouth was finally producing again. Dr. Habit was laughing at the sight of how pathetic you looked. He was circling around you now - almost prancing - like a shark to a minnow.

“How dee-sgusting! This is the freak that all the Habitians are smiling about? But look at you! You’re a mess.” He was brought to more laughter with a series of titters that he tried his best to keep inside. “And we haven’t even started the actual procedure!”

“Procedure?” you parroted.

Dr. Habit scowled at that, jolly facade slipping as his voice dropped to a low register.

“It ees not polite to talk with your mouth full.”

You were about to question him when he shoved dampened cotton balls into your mouth. The numbing effect of whatever they were soaked with hit you pretty quickly. It wasn’t like you were feeling any better from being drugged up previously. You had finally pieced together that the copper smell was laughing gas. Though, that was what you were hoping for.

A whimper pushed through all the cotton, filling the air. It was like music to him.

“Bettur? Just let your body realize your natural place, Flower Brat. I can see that it wants to let go of aaaaall those sill-ee thoughts you have! All those terrible worries. How preoccupied you’ve been with other people’s problems.”

Dr. Habit was closer to you now, one hand reaching down to cup your cheek. He rubbed you gingerly, pretending that he was filled with concern for the one that he had drugged up and tied down. You could see that he played stupid very well.

“Even after I told you not to interfere,” he growled, claws clenching against your skin. You whimpered, afraid of the power that he had. “You just don’t lee-ssen! What do you hope to prove, hm? That you are better than me?”

You shook your head frantically.

His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. It was clear he didn’t believe you.

“You do! You think you are better-er than me!”

Huffing like an impudent child, you felt his fingers back on you. They slipped into your open mouth eagerly and he bent down to examine. Dr. Habit frowned several times and made small ‘hmm’s’ and ‘oh’s!’ as he explored. The sudden focus on your dental hygiene was making you squirm under him. Though, perhaps it was also the intimate nature of a deranged man on top of you, prodding and poking your mouth with sharp fingers. You felt like one wrong move and he’d cut you open.

Dr. Habit could see that you were watching him - he smiled when he met your gaze.

“Curiouz creature, hm? Want to know what I’m looking for?”

Slowly, you nodded.

That certainly caused him to guffaw.

“Well, I am a dentist, silly-Billy! So I’m looking for any yucky-ucky cavities. Whiiiich-” He dug his index finger right into a molar.

You cried out, bucking against your restraints. Dr. Habit snorted at that and pushed down harder. Tears stung your eyes.

“Naughty, naughty! Such an ungrateful little Flower Brat, you don’t even bother to take care of your teeth!” His expression shifted again so that he was glowering at you. Practically a snarl. “Such naughty people always get to have their teeth. Why should you be so lucky, hm? You obviously do not care enough to take care of them.”

Another sharp push but, this time, it felt like he was trying to pull it back out. You quickly realized that the fluid in the cotton balls did not actually numb any pain at all. It indeed made it shock your mouth with more of an impact. Crying out, you begged for him to stop. Dr. Habit couldn’t hear you in his mad frenzy.

He reached for his tools resting nearby and produced a rusty pair of pliers. Panicking, you began to thrash. You knew the pain would be unimaginable if he pulled it out.

“Stop squir-erming! It’ll be over quickly…”

The rusted metal was tightened around you tooth and-

Yank!

You screamed. Howled in pain as the molar was plucked from you. With tears down your face, you shook and cried in Dr. Habit’s grip. He looked the molar over and tsked. It indeed had a large cavity in it, making it not perfect and shiny like he enjoyed. He let it clatter to the collection tray before he turned back to you.

“Pleasth!” you begged, mouth still forced open with drool and blood running down your chin. “I’m saw-wee!”

Dr. Habit paused, looking at you with a slight bit of pity. Well, you had thought so. But his finger went straight back into your mouth was the hole was.

You cried out again, screaming until your voice was hoarse. The stinging pain of the new wound quickly began to numb. It might have been your brain trying to process it into something that you could handle.

So neither of you had expected a moan.

Dr. Habit’s eyes widened in surprise, mouth agape and ready to question or belittle you. Curiously, he pressed again. Another loud moan fell from your lips in between your sobs.

“Oh? Whazzis…?”

He let your blood coat his finger and then slowly traced it on the roof of your mouth so you’d be forced to taste the stinging metallic taste. Then, he pulled away and sucked on it. He shivered. This was terribly naughty!

“Do you like this?” he whispered in a sharp, accusatory hiss.

You tried to shake your head.

Dr. Habit carefully cupped your face between his hands and this time let his thumb push into your mouth. You whimpered, body arching up towards him. With his hand clamping your jaw open, he touched the freshly opened hole and watched as you practically danced under him. Well, this was new, wasn’t it?

Never before had Dr. Habit had a patient that liked this. No, usually they screamed their little lungs out and begged for their lives. You would never know if this man spared those who he harvested or that he had more skeletons in his closet.

“Liar, liar, plants in a fire! I can feel your bod-dee twitching when I play.”

That sing-songy voice was enough to make your stomach turn. You wanted to be sick. However, the fire in your loins was far too distracting. You began to pant. Hard, heavy breaths meant you were inhaling more of that godforsaken gas into your lungs. But you couldn’t help it! This was entirely new to you too. You should have been screaming and sobbing and you were letting tears fall down your cheek, you were also leaning into Habit’s sickening touch.

Helpless eyes watched as the man examined you to try an re-calculate what to do. You had already ruined his first set of plans for the Big Event and now you had the audacity to make him change course for torturing you!

However, the morbid curiosity that Dr. Habit had in this precise moment was almost enough to let you off the hook. Almost.

“Even in my ah-tempts to hurb you and make you pay, you still-ee manage to screw it all up, Flower Brat!” he nearly roared with a snarl before that sweet smile came and stretched across his face.

Like nails on a chalkboard, he scraped his pliers against the metal of the dental chair to make you jump. You let out a gasp, dreading what would come next. He loved watching you squirm in anticipation. Your fear was so very palpable that it was yummy in his tummy. The cold metal of the tool that had robbed you of a tooth tapped mockingly against your cheek. He dragged it along your jaw and stopped at your chin.

“We could always see how many more teeth I can pull from your puh-retty leetle mouth to make you orgasm.”

Your eyes were wide open and looking at him in terror. The shock ran through you - or, at least you hoped it was shock and not something else.

“Wh-wha-”

Habit pressed the pliers to your lips to shut you up.

“Oh, leetle Flower Brat! You are having a big se-cer-ret from your dear Doc-tor! I cannot per-scribe the right medi-i-cine if you don’t fess up to all your dirty daydreams~!”

He yanked your mouth open again and carelessly plucked another tooth. You screamed, unable to take this flash of pain ringing in your jaw. Choking back another cry, you felt the blood drip down your lips before you realized that he had taken one of your front teeth. However, instead of shoving his claws back into your mouth, you suddenly felt his warm, stale breath pour over your face.

Now you were staring directly into those bloodshot yellow eyes as he was a hair’s breadth away from you. Body tensing up, you were frozen by that stare. You wanted to pull away. To try and jerk free from his grip. What was he trying to pull - aside from teeth, of course.

Before your anxious thoughts could get too rapt up in the ‘what if’ game, you felt his lips against yours. Startled, you moved to pull away but felt his hand encase the back of your head to hold you steady. Like a panicked animal, you began to fear the worst. Then you felt his tongue slide into where your tooth had been and it finally clicked.

He was trying to turn you on.

Using your own embarrassment was far more fun than just simply robbing you of your teeth. No, he wanted you to feel shame that you were enjoying this. Sweet little Flower Freak was getting off on the mutilation of your own body.

You began to weep freely and tried to ignore the white hot pleasure his tongue was quickly achieving. It slid directly into the fresh wound and pushed its slimy warmth with enough force to produce another lovely moan from you.

All your worries were starting to melt away.

Your body, perhaps from the sheer trauma of it all, was sending signals of pleasure rather than pain. The stinging sensation of the open gash in your mouth was beginning to welcome the sensation of his tongue. Like it was the perfect band-aid for your lil’ whoopsie.

The longer Habit kissed you and let his tongue explore your mouth, the more you finally let your body go limp in his hold. No more struggling. Dr. Habit knew exactly what you wanted and would prescribe the perfect medication.

“Theeeere we go, leetle on,” he cooed encouragingly. “Let your nasty body realize its place, hm? You know-e you cannot fight against such a strong Doc-tor like me! I would crush you easily.”

That dangerous look in his eyes was proof enough of that. But he was right. You couldn’t fight back. You couldn’t win. Trying to convince the mad doctor to let you go was a moot point. So you might as well just enjoy the last moments of your life and let the sick bastard indulge your newfound fetish.

“All you wanted to do was fix the smiles of everyone else… But maybe leetle Flower’s smile looks funnier than everyone else’s! May-bee…”

Habit’s hands pulled your cheeks so you were forced to smile your new broken smile as blood continued to dribble down your chin.

“May-bee Flowers do not smile right because there is something naughty behind those teefs! A perverted little freak who wants big bad Doctors like Habit to be making their smiles less dirty.”

Slowly, he leaned in and licked a stripe against the top row of still intact teeth.

“Habit could fix you,” he suggested, a darker tone slipping in again. “Fix you up-up-up! Make smile less dirty by cleaning it.”

With another push of the pedal connected to the chair, you were flat on your back now. The hulking figure was on top of you, blocking out the small light that had been shining in your face. He looked to be nothing more than a shadow creature now, leering down at you like a piece of meat instead of a ‘patient’.

“Yes, yes! Habit fixy! All smiles! Even naughty-naughties who wanna ruin ever-ree-thing!”

You were barely focusing on what he was saying as he slid your legs open. Fear washed over you again as you started to wonder what ‘fixing’ you meant. The answer was swiftly rubbed against you through the fabric of Habit’s pants, rubbing your inner thigh before he pushed it against your throbbing sex.

Letting out a choked cry, you bucked to try and shove him off you. But he was far too strong and was now pinning a good chunk of his weight to keep you still. The sharp zip! of his pants was enough to alert you to the terror and gravity of the situation.

“Don’t worry, leetle patient. Doc-tor Habit will indulge your icky fantasies with special medicine.”

A mewl left you as your body trembled. However, you found the arousal at the pit of your stomach branching off and seeping into every inch of you. The laughing gas made you feel as light as a feather and so easy to mold like putty.

Habit stared down at you tenderly as he rubbed his cock against your clothed body. The sensation was enough for him to sigh in relief. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but seeing you so fearful and horny really turned him on. And Habit so rarely took care of his own needs. So this was an extra special occasion!

He bent your legs upwards and let your thighs push together. There, he let his cock slip between them and start absentmindedly hotdogging them. The sight sent you further into your own madness. You begged for him to stop but your hips rocked to try and meet his. This was torture. Complete agony!

Deciding that you needed more pleasure, his hands went back to your mouth to play with you. Eager, you reached into his touch and let your face be cupped in the palms of his massive hands. His thumbs parted your lips and pushed in. It only took his sharp fingertips to push against your two new holes for you to greet him with little moans. You were already on the brink! You just needed more of his touch.

More of Habit talking down to you and degrading you. You liked being his nuisance if this is what it meant. You’d make everyone in the Habitat so happy if it meant he would get to reward you with these unwanted advances. The sick part in your twisted brain wanted to see how far you could push him before he’d simply take what he wanted.

You couldn’t tell if this was you or the effects of the gas anymore. With your brain turning into goo, you were helplessly in the hands of Dr. Boris Habit. You wondered where his filthy mind would go with a new pliant little patient underneath him. From how much his cock was throbbing, you guessed he liked this too.

And he was big. Of course he would be from just how tall he was. A towering giant over all of the Habitat. His shadow could have easily swallowed you whole! You dread to think about that creature you had seen in the corner of your room at night. Waiting for you to slip up. And now you had. Fallen right into the spider’s trap.

Small, drunken giggles left you as Habit played with your jaw. He pushed and wiggled the rest of your teeth to see if anymore needed to come out immediately. The force on one of your molars made you moan, realizing that you had another cavity there. Taking this opportunity, he tugged out that tooth too and fingered the new hole. Your blood was a lovely little lube that stained his green fingers nicely.

The adrenaline he got from hurting you like this was enough to make him moan. Habit joined in with your giggles, pleased as punch to see you finally so happy.

“Oh? I am making you smile by doing such naughty things to you? Do you like the Doc-tors special medicine, leetle Flower?” he crooned.

You nodded, eyes half-lidded and your mouth willingly wide open while he played. You were in heaven. The pain was pure pleasure now and making every nerve-ending tingle so delightfully. Having him do this to you was amazing! You were oh so grateful to be his patient.

“Good! Now you know how generous I am! You comin-k in here and ruining all my wonderful plans! I was oh-so mad at you, yes I was! I wanted to stra-ngle the li-iife outta you… But I like your broken smile.”

Habit was starting to drool. Strands of it fell into your mouth as he fucked between your thighs faster. Harder. So hard that it made the unstable dentist chair beneath you too creak and whine noisily.

“Because it is a smile for me! Mine, mine mine~! You are smiling for Habit now! And I hab it aaaaallll to myself foreber and eber!”

His own maniacal giggles surrounded you.

You were smiling at just how happy he was! It was so infectious to see Dr. Habit smile so much. You were finally making him happy too…

Pleased with yourself, you let yourself fully dive into your madness. You giggled and groaned, begging for him to keep you. You wanted to be his! Why waste time in such a silly world like the Habitat when you could stay with Habit forever. That sounded much nicer.

Habit bent down and greedily kissed you, swiping his tongue over your teeth and the holes of the ones he had stolen over and over, increasing his pace the harder he bucked against your warm body. He was close. So achingly close. The noises coming from him were guttural. Needy. He wanted you to cum to fully put you in your place. To overwhelm you with utter shame even after you came back to your senses.

Your arousal was hitting you so hard that it was blinding. All you could see were the rows upon rows of Habit’s teeth curled into a smile and his yellow eyes shifting to a deep red. His hands that grabbed the sides of your face were now letting those sharp nails dig into the soft flesh, poking holes in your skin with sweet new cuts that would punctuate your broken smile.

Then, all at once, as you felt the overwhelming darkness begin to eat you up, you came. You screamed out his name and begged for him to keep you and to fix your smile.

Habit watched in pure childlike wonder as you bucked wildly, gasping for air. The sight of what he had done to you - how he ruined your body all for himself and that you were begging for more sent him well over the edge.

Ropes of cum shot onto your stomach before he moved up, opening your mouth and letting the hot, salty liquid shoot into your mouth. The sting of it hitting the gaps in your smile burned. But your loopy smile was stretched out as you took every drop.

Dr. Habit panted for a moment before tucking himself away and standing at full attention. His hand came to pet your head in a more tender moment, his smile never fading. You had truly made him smile from your depravity.

“Round one of Dr. Habit’s speshul medicine was a sucks-yes!” he cooed proudly. “I think it is beddy-byes for Flowers before phase two…”

You were about to protest when you felt a syringe pierce into the crook of your arm. A warm liquid filled you before you lost your fight to sleep while hearing Habit sing a soft lullaby in his mother tongue:

“Bayu-bayushki-bayu, bayu-bayushki-bayu…”

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: The Rupture (15x03)

Well... damn?

Cons:

In the first two reviews of this season, I talked a lot about how this season was going to lean really hard into the nostalgia. I had high hopes about the return of some of these characters, and while I did really like this episode, I'm getting a bit concerned. Last week, Kevin showed up only to immediately leave again. This week, after Ketch's close call last week, he's killed off, Rowena dies, and then Belphegor also bites the dust. So a lot of stuff that was just getting set up is suddenly off the table. On the one hand, I like it when things are unpredictable and move at a quick pace. On the other hand, this feels a bit too familiar to me. Supernatural has a pattern. The first three episodes are all A-plot focused, and then we've got to ratchet back the tension so we can do some monster-of-the-week stuff. That's fine, that's expected. But we've already rushed through so many of the things I thought this season was going to focus on, and I have a feeling that the tension and drama is going to drop off. We've only got seventeen precious episodes left! I don't know if it was Rowena or Belphegor or even Ketch's time to go just yet.

Yo... Dean wicked needs to apologize to Cas. That was rough stuff. I loved the angst, don't get me wrong, but I hope Dean is held responsible for his actions. I hope we get a real in-depth look at Dean's anger issues and he realizes that he's the one in the wrong here. This isn't so much a problem with the episode as it is a worry for the future - I hope they do this plot thread justice.

And for my one and only petty complaint - it bothers me that they insist on sticking to their guns with the stupid idea of spelling Castiel's name "Cass." Like... stop. It's wrong. We all know it's wrong.

Pros:

Ketch gets this totally depressing yet oddly bad-ass death where he refuses to turn on the Winchesters even when facing down death. There's a part of me that wants to say it doesn't really matter, because he's done so many terrible things to the boys that this act of sacrifice doesn't redeem him. But maybe redemption isn't the point. Crowley and Rowena both also died to help the Winchesters, and that doesn't erase the harm they've done over the years, but it does show that they're capable of change. If Supernatural has a single unifying thesis statement, it's all about free will. And that means that Sam and Dean fight to make their own choices. But it also means that people don't fit into prescribed roles. Villains can do heroic things, heroes can do villainous things. Ketch can't erase his evil past, but he can do what he can to help the people he believes in, here at the end. I was oddly touched by his loyalty, there in his final moments.

Belphegor... honestly, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to him. He was a lot of fun. We got that teaser at the end of Season Fourteen showing Jack with Billie, so we can assume that Alex Calvert isn't gone-gone. But honestly, while I was a little sad to say goodbye to such a fun character so quickly, this was the one subversion of my expectations that I ultimately think was a very smart move. If Belphegor had stuck around, he would have felt like Crowley 2.0 in all the bad ways, instead of just the good ones. By that I mean that he would have been a kind-of-sort-of adversary who would hang around in the background and be available whenever he was needed, to conveniently provide a power-up to a Winchester in need. All of the fun and snark gets sucked out of a character like that pretty quickly, the moment you realize they're not a real threat. This way, we see that he was playing nice for a specific and nearly-achievable goal. Cas stops him, and the price is Rowena's life, and there it ends. That was pretty satisfying.

Rowena. I wish we could have had more time with her. But if she had to die, what a way to go. I mean, I'd be remiss if I did not point out how annoying it is to lose one of the few female characters still remaining on this show. It's annoying. But so many women have died in a way that can only be classified as being "fridged." And this was not that. Yes, Sam is going to have his "man pain" over Rowena's death or whatever, but she made a choice. She sacrificed herself, going against a lifetime of selfishness and an imperative desire to live no matter the cost. And the fact that it had to be at Sam's hands was just the perfect amount of heartbreak.

I seriously adore the way they portrayed Sam and Rowena's relationship. It's not textually romantic, but... it could have been. And there's an open acknowledgment of that. Sam hasn't experienced a lot of tender affection in his life, and you can see from his behavior with any and all of his love interests over the years that it's something he really craves. Rowena was genuinely kind to him, in her own strange way, and that's something Sam is going to miss terribly. It's strange, because on paper this scene plays in to so many story-telling cliches. A man forced to kill his girlfriend for the greater good. But Rowena wasn't Sam's girlfriend. She wasn't there just to be a female character for him to cry over. She was a fully realized character and the decision that she and Sam came together to make was one of great sacrifice and integrity. Rowena was a fantastic and surprising character on this show. She came to mean more to me than I would have expected, and if she had to go, then this was a pretty bad-ass way for it to happen.

We had a nice little moment of Dean checking up on Sam. I like that once again there isn't anything explicit being said here - Dean doesn't say "I know you were kind of maybe in love with her a little bit, so sorry man." He doesn't have to say that. It's implied, and Sam knows that Dean knows, and maybe that's enough. It was a nice little understated moment.

As much as my heart broke for Sam here, let's end this review with the Destiel breakup. Because holy moly oh my God. As I said, I'm not about to get my hopes up about anything like a real reciprocal confirmation. But what they're giving us is just... everything I never knew I needed. There have been plenty of legitimate criticisms over the years that Cas will do anything in the world for Dean, and that Dean doesn't appreciate it, and treats him like a tool to use to solve all of his problems. In this moment, Cas is at the end of his rope. He did his best, but he's grieving for Jack, and his powers aren't working, and Dean doesn't have the time or the inclination to listen to anything he has to say. No wonder he's fed up, no wonder he's heartbroken. No wonder he leaves. I can't wait for Dean to make amends for this. I can't wait for Sam to take him to task for pushing away their best friend.

Everything about the scene - Misha's performance in particular - was just so achingly tragic. It was a break-up. It was Cas saying that for his own mental well-being, he needed to break up with his toxic boyfriend. They even played the sad Supernatural theme as Cas walked away. And I think it's telling that the episode ends on that note. You could have flipped the final two scenes - had Cas leave dramatically, and then end with Dean comforting Sam, telling him that they've succeeded, and commiserating about Rowena. But no - the final beat is Dean standing there, as the camera pulls away and shows him alone in the bunker, with Castiel walking away from him. Jensen's performance was great as well. He's so angry with Cas, and so unwilling to bend. But maybe this will be the moment that he realizes that he takes Cas for granted. That he expects him to always do what Dean says, and be there when he's wanted. I just adore the fact that here, in the final season of this show, the problems in Dean and Cas' relationship are getting a real focus. Even if it doesn't go as far as I would ideally like, it will still be so much fun to explore!

And that's that. What a sad episode of Supernatural! It got me feeling all sorts of feelings, let me tell ya. And my complaints were actually not about this episode in isolation, more about my worries for the middle section of this season. So for that reason, this is getting a pretty high score!

9/10

[rhabakoli]

A Rocky Night

Y’all. This... 1.8k words. pure smut. I don’t even know. 

Inspired by this  ask.

@dreamwritesimagines @tofadavidson @seriouslynogood (your moodboard, damn)

“Hi, Billy.”

Her voice made him look up from where he sat on his bed, leaned against the wall and read a book. They had the luxury of actual walls this time, no idea how they managed to do it. But he relished in it, since the walls did keep some of the heat out and the chill of the night in. “Skittles?” He put the book away, sat straighter and looked her up and down, surprised and not exactly sure what he was supposed to think. She was wearing a flowy skirt, long enough to cover her knees and a thin tank top. How did she get here? “I’m here to gratulate you on winning the gene lottery, Billy.”

Oh. Sure. Made sense.

He reached out to her, and she willingly took his hand, gathering the long fabric of her skirt and scooting across the bed, before she made herself comfortable next to him.   She asked him about his last couple weeks, what happened since he’d last seen her. He was currently telling her about the picture one of his mates got from his girlfriend, and how he was basically floating the next couple days after it, when his longtime best friend moved again, straddled his lap and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Must have been a naughty picture then, huh?” He felt her weight on him, her round behind pressing against his thighs, her torso slightly curved towards him - she looked delicious, ready to eat. She planted her breasts directly in front of his nose, inviting him, taunting him.   “Don’t you want to float as well?” She leaned in, her lips against his ear, breath ghosting down his neck. He shivered, could feel his blood pumping, draining his brain.

Wait. This was so wrong. She was his best friend. There were people around.

He found, the thought didn’t bother him all that much, it made it more exciting, if anything. Still, he had to at least try. “There are people around, what are you doing!”, he hissed, hands on her hips as if he wanted to lift her off his body. But then she moved, rolling her hips and building friction. “Shit.” His fingers pressed into the fabric of her skirt, into her hips, and he groaned, when he realized that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath. So now she rubbed her pantyless self against his pants, knees on his sides, spreading more little by little.

Okay. He was no saint. How was he supposed to refuse her?

He pulled her in, big hand pressed to her back, the other trailing a path up until he could wrap it around her neck, feeling the soft, sensitive skin under his fingers, feeling her swallow. His eyes traveled over her hips, her breasts, her neck, her lips, up to her eyes. “My dear. If we are to do this, you need to be quiet. There’s my mates sleeping, others are outside, patrolling and they gonna be on alert, at the slightest noise. You wake anyone, get anyone's attention but mine, and we have a problem, do you understand?” She nodded, shiver going through her, his voice encouraging her to continue with her little movements against his crotch. He pressed his thumb to her lower lip, pulling down and cursed, when he watched it fall back into place. “You’re so beautiful, and sexy, and, Lord, how are you real?” Before she could answer what was a rhetorical question anyway, he kissed her. He nipped at her lips, soothed with his tongue, teased her. His hands found her behind, squeezing, pulling her closer, his own hips now moving in the smallest, tiniest circles. She let out a guttural moan, when he bucked against her, the rough fabric of his uniform rasping against her soft skin. He had a hand over her mouth, leaned into her, nose brushing her cheek as he warned her. “Another sound, and I’ll make sure you will regret it.” Her nose flared, her eyes closed and she nodded. Billy smirked and stroked down her neck, followed her collarbone, then teased her nipples through her shirt. He flicked at them, pinched, before he bent his head and flattened his tongue against one, while still paying attention to the other. He slipped his free hand under the shirt, grinning as he found his suspicions confirmed. She didn’t wear a bra. This woman. She drove him crazy. He bit her breast, making her flinch and hiss. She was so obedient, so good. She really did not make a sound. But, if he was honest. He’d love to hear a bit from her. Just the tiniest noises, just for him. He’d keep them close and treasure them. Make sure no one else got to hear them. He wasn’t aware he was talking, he didn’t realize, how she seemed to hold onto his shoulders for dear life. Billy continued playing with her, leaving pinches here and there, stroking her soft skin. Additionally, he latched onto her neck, lathering it in kisses and bites, marking her up for everyone to see. She’d not be able to hide anything in this heat and her flimsy clothing. He’d parade her in front of his mates, show them what they couldn’t have. He slipped a hand under her skirt, hand spreading on her thigh. Her skin was soft, so warm, he wanted to lick and bite. He bet, she bruised well all over. Soft skin did so easily, no? She reacted instinctively, spreading her knees more, making her sink lower on his lap, seemingly closer to his exploring fingers. “Please.”, she breathed, barely audible. “Please, Billy.” The wicked grin on his face made her whimper and fist the material of his soft shirt.   “I’ll make you scream, dear. You will want to, but you can’t. They’d find us, they’d see you like this. Squirming in my lap, moaning like you’re in heat, like you don’t have control anymore.” Her head fell forward, against his shoulder, as he teased her clit with his forefinger. She was so wet, she was positively dripping. “Look at you. Wouldn’t you like that? You want them to find us like this?” He circled her clit, then flicked it. She bucked in his lap, head whipped back, not having expected that. He could see the desperation on her face, how much she wanted to let it out, to moan, to have an outlet. He kissed her again, soft, loving, gentle. It was a last moment of piece, before he gathered up her juices and pushed in. Her mouth fell open, a silent gasp against his cheek, then hot breath on his skin, as she took deep breaths. Billy added another finger, stretching her, absolutely loving the feeling of her. Silky, hot, so goddamn wet, he couldn’t believe it. She was moving her hips with enthusiasm, her hands still on his shoulders, flexing. He was crooking his fingers inside her, stretching her and forcing her to adapt. Which, finally, got him what he wanted. She let out a long moan, suppressing it still, but she broke her silence. “Damn, love, didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” “Sorry, Billy.”, she mumbled. He moved faster, watched as her head fell back, how she presented her mottled neck.

There was no blood left in his body, that’s how hard he was. He’d make her come on his fingers, then on his face, and then he’ll make her ride him. Yeah. That sounded like an exceptional plan. 

He sighed, barely able to keep calm. He fisted her hair, pulled, got another moan from her. He chuckled, loved how she reacted to him, how every little action made her shiver, moan, her insides flutter around his fingers.  His lap was a mess, really. Her arousal was slipping down his fingers, dripping from his knuckles. “You’re so hot. So fucking hot, I don’t have the words.” Her skin was sweaty under his hand, hot and damp, and he loved it. He wrapped his free hand around her neck, felt her rapid pulse under his fingers. He increased the pressure, not exactly squeezing, but enough to let her feel his hand, to let her imagine what he could do.   “You deserve so much more than this, love.”  And so she got more.More fingers, faster moves, thumb on her clit and teasing, circling around, gently flicking it. She was so sensitive already, she whimpered and almost hopped off his fingers.  But he held her, tutting at her. “Can’t keep quiet anymore? Do I need to stuff you loud mouth?”  She faltered in her movements, eyes wide, unfocused as her brain went over what Billy had said.  Then, sweet jesus, she nodded.  Billy had to lick his lips, take a deep breath. Holy fuck, she was trying to kill him, wasn’t she?  He moved his hand, pressed his thumb against her lips, to which she more than willingly opened. Immediately, she was on him, licking and sucking, closing her eyes as she did. Her hips moved again, faster, more forceful - riding his fingers, he couldn’t find another word for it. He let her, pressed closer and kissed her jaw, her neck. Pulled out his fingers, rubbed them together and marveled at the wetness coating them, before he pushed back in, letting her go wild. And, go wild she did. She let go of his shirt with one hand, just to bring it up to his wrist, holding on while she doubled her efforts, seeing stars.  Billy could feel her flutter around him, and he knew she was almost there. He murmured into her ear, how beautiful she was, how he would have her another two times, at least, how he intended to bring her to orgasm every. fucking. time. How he loved to see her so mindless, so loose, only for him, only for his eyes -

A thundering boom made him shoot up, ready to defend his life. The floor vibrated, the sound echoed. In the cot next to him, Frank looked up from his book, listening into the far, trying to catch the seriousness of their nightly interruption.   Billy noticed he was sitting up, letters in his lap. He must have had trouble sleeping. Most of the occupants were sitting up, poised to fight. “Was too faint to be in close vicinity to the camp.”, Frank murmured. Billy nodded. A messenger stuck his head into the room. “Was not us, guys. Next shift joins the soldiers out there patrolling, the others can go back to sleep.” Frank shook his head, Billy groaned. His dream came back to him, as his heart stopped racing. Which, honestly. That was just torture. “You looked way happier when you were sleeping, Billy Boy. Had a nice dream?” “You try being woken up by a might-be bombing and then let’s see how you look.” “Been there, done that.” Frank grinned and mockingly saluted. “Fuck you, Frank.” 

**

Part 2