#seriously I haven’t had therapy in months

[call-sign-shark]

Happiness Therapy

summary: Pairing Modern!Darkling x OC || Amos x Heaven (PB)

Who would have thought that true love and the Christmas spirit could be found in a mental hospital? Certainly not them.

Content: words, tooth rotting fluff. Mention of graphic physical violence. Aleksander’s modern Identity is Amos.

notes: Look at the end of the post. No proofreading we die like men.

The relentless buzzing sound of the neon lights hummed low in the sterile air of the psych ward. Heaven, sitting cross-legged on her chair, was absent-mindedly tearing the corner off her Styrofoam food tray. The muffled voices from the night warden's radio murmured softly in the corridor, creating a background noise she didn't mind. She hadn't eaten much today —her appetite was always a fragile thing—but her eyes had noticed something when the nurse slid the tray in front of her. It was something beneath the plastic cutlery. At first, she thought they had mistakenly given her an extra napkin, but then she saw how it had been carefully folded.

Her heart missed a beat when she realized what it was, a small smile creeping across her chapped lips. She unfolded it with her slim fingers.

"Love is the angel disguised as lust, Here in our bed until the morning comes…"

The doll's face widened, turning from a timid, exhausted smirk to a wild grin full of teeth. "Amos," she murmured, shaking her head with amusement. Across the common room, Amos leaned lazily against the wall, his raven-black hair perfectly styled except for one untamed lock that fell on his forehead, and his dark eyes piercing even from a distance. When she caught his gaze, the smirk that tugged at his lips deepened.

They had met in group therapy months ago — not the most romantic meet-cute, she had to admit. She had been sitting in the farthest chair, trying her best to blend into the wallpaper and dreaming about the peacefulness of the isolation cell, while Amos had occupied the seat dead center. He exuded confidence when he talked:

"Eh, I just smashed a guy’s head into a sink," he’d said casually like he was recounting a grocery list. He purposefully forget to mention that the man lost all his teeth and that he would be disfigured and disabled for the rest of his life just because he crossed him. "Don’t remember it. Psychosis, y’know?" He shrugged, and some people flinched but Heaven didn't. She’d simply tilted her head, intrigued.

She was here because she’d killed five men. Or so they said.

She had glanced at him through her curtain of snow-white hair, and he’d noticed. His immediate reaction had been to smile at her. Not the kind of smirks he threw at the nurses or the thin, dismissive smiles he gave the doctors. This one was softer, almost curious.

Now, weeks later, they were inseparable. The staff didn't even bother trying to keep them apart more than necessary. Somehow, Amos and the killer doll were an odd but sweet pair. — Sharing headphones during downtime, scribbling notes and poetry on napkins, sometimes just sitting quietly in the corner together. He made her laugh with his dry, deadpan humor. She softened him with her quietness and her divine touch. At least, none of them were violent when they were around each others.

"Christmas is coming," Amos said one day as they sat in the common room, looking at the light snow that was falling outside, barely visible through the grated windows.

Heaven looked up from the sketchbook she had smuggled from art therapy and shrugged, "Is it?"

He blinked, "What do you mean, is it? It's the most wonderful time of the year." The dark-haired and black-eyed man seemed seriously outraged.

She laughed softly in reply. “I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years.”

“Why not?” He replied with a frown.

The doll shrugged. “My family used to love it. But after they…” Her voice trailed off and her hand tightened so hard around the pencil that her knuckles whitened. “It just didn’t feel right anymore.”

Amos was quiet for a moment, watching her. Then he leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “You know, I could make you love Christmas again..."

“Oh, really?” She retorted, skeptical but amused.

“Absolutely. I’m like Santa Claus, but... hotter.”

The little remark was so unexpected that she burst out laughing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the sound didn't feel foreign to her.

Amos left the hospital two weeks later.

It was sudden.

One day he was there, and the next, he wasn’t. Something cracked inside her when they kissed and hugged goodbye.

“You’ll be fine,” he’d whispered into her hair, humming her sweet perfume and fighting against the anger leaving her behind triggered in him. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

She wanted to believe him, but she knew he wouldn't.

On Christmas Day, the hospital was quieter than usual. Most of the patients were subdued, and the staff seemed distracted, eager to get home to their families. Who could blame them? No one wanted to spend this sacred day trapped in the dull hallways of a psychiatric facility . Heaven was sitting in her usual spot, staring out the window at the snow-covered courtyard as she cuddled with the hoodie Amos had left her. It still faintly smelled of him, but that soothing scent was slowly fading away and this was enough to send her to the very edge of mental crisis.

“Lavey.” A cold, placid voice suddenly boomed in the main room. She turned, startled.

One of the nurses was standing in the doorway, looking vaguely annoyed. “You have a visitor.”

A visitor? Her heart skipped but she didn’t let it see, only answering to the bored nurse with a raised eyebrow. Getting up, she put on the sweater and nervously played with the long sleeves as she walked toward the visitor’s room.

And there he was.

As he promised.

Amos stood in the center of the room, his black coat dusted with snow and a mischievous grin lighting up his pretty face. Startled by the sight of him in clothes other than tracksuit, the killer doll bit her juicy lower lips.

“Missed me?” The tall darkness teased, a roses bouquet in one hand.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her siren voice coated with surprise and her far too pale eyes wide open.

“Bailing you out,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her jaw dropped, not quite sure she had heard well. “You—what?” Heaven asked in disbelief, wondering if it wasn’t the voices that told her so.

“Rich family, remember?” He winked, and his smile became even more irresistible. During her stay he had told her that he came from an influential family, but somehow it had slipped from her brain. “Pulled some strings, promised my dad to talk to the procurer for your case and boom: You’re coming with me. Well…” His gaze flicked as did hers when a nurse knelt next to her to strap an ankle monitor on her leg. “Sort of. But it’s better than jail and psych ward.”

She didn’t care — it was a fair deal for a convicted murderer, even though the circumstances and the big conundrum her case was played in her favor when paired with one of Amos’ very pricey lawyer.

“Fuck me, you’re joking right?!” Wasting no time, the crazy angel threw herself into his arms, a feeling of warmth blooming in her chest. He welcomed her with glistening eyes, sparkles of shy tears making his void-black eyes glisten with emotion. One sole arm wrapped itself around her, the other trying to keep the flowers safe.They left the hospital together, stepping out into the snowy evening.

The city was alight with Christmas decorations, twinkling lights strung across streets and shop windows like millions stars stolen from the dark veil of the night. Clinging to Amos’a side, the white-haired girl buried her face in his shoulder to hide her tears. Tears he had never seen, even in her worst tantrum. His soft voice, warm with affection, whispered in her ear.

“I told you I’d make you love Christmas again,”

Notes: Masterlist Echo of Shadows (Grishaverse)

taglist: @justrainandcoffee @cillmequick @mischievouslittlecreature @evita-shelby @lunarubra @peakyswritings @jjovin3221 @shelbhey

For the Grisha fandom: @lunawants, @emtaz-art, @lightinbug @kmc1989

[lotanxiety]

You’re not alone

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean and Sam notice you aren’t taking good care of yourself and they are worried about you. Dean talks you through it and offers support.

Warnings: mentions of ED, SH, and depression, this has some seriously heavy shit so if this triggers you PLS don’t read, fluff with dean

——————————————————

You have lived in the bunker with the boys for 3 years. Lately, your mental health has been really bad, but you were trying to hide it from Sam and Dean. With everything they dealt with on a daily basis, the last thing you wanted them to worry about was you.

It all started 4 months ago when you started having nightmares and flashbacks of the times you almost died. You were pretty sure you had PTSD, but with your lifestyle, therapy wasn’t really an option. You grew up with abusive parents which didn’t help with the accumulating trauma. The body keeps score and it seemed to all be catching up with you now. First, it was the nightmares, then the dissociating. The only times you felt alive were when you would fight monsters which led to your newest bad habit.

Whenever you didn’t feel real or got angry with yourself for whatever reason, you would take it out on your hips. It was something you could control. It reminded you that you’re real and it’s served as a punishment when you felt you deserved it. Seeing the red lines across your hips made you happy when everything else seemed grey.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, it was increasingly more difficult to get out of bed each morning. You would forget basic human necessities like eating, drinking, or bathing. You were able to hide your struggles before, but now it’s becoming noticeable. On the days the boys were home, you would fake it the best you could so they wouldn’t pick up on anything wrong, but not anymore. Maybe you want someone to notice. Maybe you finally want to be saved and cared for the way you save others.

———————-

*around noon*

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked Sam walking into the kitchen.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.” Sam said. “Have you noticed.. she seems a little quiet lately. I also noticed she’s been having more nightmares lately.”

“I noticed that too, I can hear her scream out sometimes. I mean we all get nightmares, but these seem bad. Have you not talked to her about it at all?” Dean questioned.

“No, I thought you would’ve mentioned it.” Sam said.

“Dude, she’s obviously going through something and neither of us have checked up on her? Way to go.” Dean scoffed as he headed in the direction of your room.

—————————

You were laying on your bed, staring at the wall thinking of all the ways you have messed up lately. The last hunt you were out on, you made a mistake that almost got Sammy killed. Now, you opt to stay back and reference the lore. You replayed every mistake over and over in your head. Suddenly a knock interrupts your ‘greatest hits’.

You clear your throat, “um, who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Dean, can i come in.”

You look around to the mess of your room, random items taking up space on your bed with you. Suddenly, you become embarrassed and ashamed. “I- uh, do you need something?” You shout to the man on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I just wanted to check up on you. Are you feeling okay?” Dean asks with concern.

*coughing loudly* “No I think I’ve come down with something, you should stay away.” You say, trying to sound sickly.

“Oh, ok. I can bring you some soup if you like” Dean asks, knowing you’re lying but trying to get through to you.

“I’m not hungry, thanks though” You say, pushing any kind of help away. You didn’t understand why you do this. You want help but then it comes and you resist at all costs. Maybe because this mess you’re feeling is comfortable, familiar. You’ve always been messed up, but now it’s just manifesting on the outside. When it was bottled up, it was easy to hide from everyone, but this is much harder and every lie you tell drains you more and more.

“You need to eat” Dean contested.

“I said no, now can you please go” The words felt like knives being thrown at the closed door. You didn’t mean to be so aggressive, but Deans pushing set off a nerve. Immediately you felt bad, but knew you couldn’t look at his face so you sat still in your bed as you heard hushed footsteps fade away. Feeling hot tears burn in your eyes, you walked over to your bathroom, and grabbed your razor. Anger towards yourself coursed through your veins, into your hands, as you unleashed hell onto your body. Saying to yourself, “You deserve this for being mean to Dean, he was just trying to be nice. He doesn’t deserve that. What’s wrong with you, etc.”

When you’re satisfied, your hips are stained red. You clean up and go back to laying in your bed, as you cry yourself to sleep.

——————-

That evening

“I don’t know Sammy, I think there’s something really wrong. Earlier- the way she spoke to me. It wasn’t her. I need to talk to her, to see her face, but she keeps pushing me away. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried… I’m worried it’s worse than just nightmares.” Dean confides to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m worried too. Maybe we can set up a movie night in the Dean cave and coax her out of her room. I think having some quality time, not worried about monsters could help.” Sam suggested.

“Okay, yeah. You run to the store and get some supplies and I’ll break out blankets and pillows. Meet back here in 30.” Dean says hopeful. He hated knowing that you were upset, but he wanted this to help so badly. He worked hard at getting his Dean cave set up perfectly. He even made a blanket fort. Once Sam and Dean finished setting everything up, the came to knock on your door.

You had just woken up from your restless nap. Unfortunately, the day wasn’t even over so you were back to laying in misery. You heard another knock on your door.

“Hey uh, we need your help in the Dean cave” Dean said from behind the door, you could almost hear the smile in his voice even though you couldn’t see him. While most other times you would decline, your curiosity got the best of you.

“Uhh okay, let me use the bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You said, getting up from your bed, ignoring the terrible headache. It stemmed from a combination of lack of food, water, good sleep, and crying so much. You looked in the mirror, repulsed by the face staring back at you, so you got to work making yourself as presentable as possible. After a much need brush through your hair (and teeth), a change of clothes, and some light makeup, you felt okay enough to make your public appearance. You left your bedroom, quickly shutting the door behind you to hide the mess, and headed towards the Dean cave.

When Dean and Sam laid their eyes on you for the first time in days, their mouths dropped. You looked awful. Bags under your eyes and barely skin and bone. You were always skinny, but this- this was bad. Both of the brothers concern immediately sky rocketed, but being as smart as they are, they knew to play it off. They knew if they outright said anything, you’d get defensive and shut down. So they quickly glanced at each other and greeted you like any other day. You were too busy looking at the scene in front of you to notice the boys faces.

“What- what is all this” you say surveying the room in awe.

“We thought you could use a little pick me up movie night.” Sam said with a soft smile on his face. Dean turned away from you to face the tv. It was too hard to look at you. He blamed himself for not checking on you sooner. For not immediately knowing there was something deeper going on. The cases had distracted him from the problem right under his nose and he was so angry at himself. You instantly noticed the change in his demeanor, making you uneasy. You thought he was still mad at you for the way you spoke to him earlier in the day. You made a mental note to apologize later. Sam opened up the blanket to let you sit beside him and so you did. In front of you, there was a whole display of food. Burgers, fries, popcorn, candy, you name it. The sight instantly made you nauseous.

You thought that you didn’t deserve food. Your mind = your greatest enemy. You pretended not to notice the food and encouraged them to start the movie. It was Alice In Wonderland- your favorite childhood movie you let slip one night with Dean after a beer too many. You glance across Sam to Dean who is staring at the TV but not actually watching. Sam nudges some fries in your direction, to which you shake your head.

“No thanks” you whisper over the beginning scene of the movie.

“Cmon Y/N, you haven’t eaten all day.” Sam said.

“Oh no, I had some granola bars in my room. I’ve been snacking on those-“ You lied.

“No you haven’t” Dean said finally speaking to you.

“What-“ you say looking at him confused, trying to play this off quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ve eaten anything in days” Dean starts.

“Dean-“ Sam interjects, trying to keep his brother from pushing you away.

“No, Sammy. She’s sick. Look at her.” Dean states.

Immediately, tears well up in your eyes. You knew you didn’t look your best but hearing Dean say that. It was too much. You wanted to head straight to your room to cut again, but Dean wasn’t finished talking.

“Y/N, I can’t walk on eggshells about this- you look terrible. What is going on?” Dean says in a much softer tone than before, his anger fading into worry.

“Nothings… going on.” you say.

“That’s not true and we all know it, can you just talk to us?” Sam asks.

Suddenly, that defense mechanism hits you strong and you attack the boys you love more than anything. You can’t help it. “I SAID I’M FINE. WOULD YOU BOTH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO BACK TO WORRYING ABOUT MONSTERS OR WHATEVER” you shout, exiting the room and heading straight for your bedroom.

You close the door behind you, still crying. The scene that just played out was one of your worst nightmares and partially why you have started staying locked in your room. You beeline for the bathroom to pick up the razor for a second time that day. You roll down your pants to the hidden canvas. Right before you can move, Dean bursts through your door.

You both freeze. Time stops for a couple seconds. Every mirage and illusion you’ve built over the past few months is shattered. The ugly, dirty truth is exposed. Your walls crumble to the ground. You refuse to lift your eyes from the ground as he approaches you. He takes the razor from your hands without saying a word and throws it to the other side of the bathroom and grabs you into his arms. You both crash to the floor, as you sob into chest. Dean hold you patiently while you let it all out. Everything you’ve been holding inside. There are a million thoughts going through Dean’s head, questions he has, but his main objective is just to be there for you. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. All the warning signs, ignored. He secretly blamed himself for letting it get this bad.

You both sit in the floor of your bathroom for a while. Your sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups for air. You nervously lifted off of his chest, anxiously awaiting the conversation to follow the events that have just transpired. You finally make eye contact with Dean, his eyes are glassy and red.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Dean said barely above a whisper dragging his hand over your hair to brush it out of your tear soaked face.

You open and close your mouth, not expecting his response. “What are you sorry for?” you ask confused.

“I- I wasn’t there for you. I mean I knew something was off, but- but this. This is all my fault.” Dean says moving his hand to hold your cheek, a singular tear falling down his right cheek.

“No, no this isn’t your fault at all. I- I don’t know what to say.” You say, feeling the weight of the situation.

“You don’t have to say anything. We are going to get you some help. You’re not alone in this. You have Sam. You have me. This- this work is hard and I know you’ve had it rough, but you can and will get through this.” Dean says, as more tears begin to fall from your eyes, though you thought you couldn’t cry anymore.

“I need you to get better. I need my Y/N. Can you do that for me?” Dean asks, gently stroking your cheek and wiping the tears as they fall. You nod.

That night, the three of you work on tidying up your room. Dean filled Sam in privately and he wanted to help you in anyway he could. You guys went back to the Dean cave after your room was clean, and ate dinner. Dean even drank water with you instead of his normal beer so you would be more inclined to drink it.

Finally, it was time for bed. Dean walked to your room with you. “I wish you would’ve told me what has been going on with you, but I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t” Dean said.

“You didn’t- I just didn’t want you to worry about me when you’ve got a whole world and billions of people to worry about.” You say in response.

“I will always worry about you first. I care about you Y/N. I am here for you no matter what.” Dean says firmly, pulling you in for a hug. His chin rests on your head as you two stand in an embrace mid hallway.

“Dean, could you maybe- um stay with me tonight?” You ask.

“Of course”

Dean grabs your hand and pulls you towards your bed. He strips down to his boxers and climbs in, holding a spot next to him for you. You curl up next to him, feeling the heat radiate off his body, comforting you. “Thank you” you whisper as you quickly drift off into a much needed, nightmare free, deep sleep. Dean leans over to kiss your head as he whispers, “I love you Y/N”.

[harryforvogue]

hi this is the first date fic that i deleted out of hatred about two months ago. sorry for that! i won't write a part 2 but due to demands, i'm reposting this. fank u <3 harry and yasmine of course.

***

“I want to take you out,” Harry says while clearing the dishes.

Yasmine looks up at him, alarmed. “I haven't wronged you that much, I’d argue.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No. Out. On a proper date.”

“Oh.” Yasmine frowns. “You don’t have to.”

He puts the dishes into the sink, mentally vowing to do them before they go to sleep. Or just him, if Yasmine doesn’t want to stay over in his room for a second night in a row. He’ll try his hardest to convince her anyways. He’s a master at persuasion, but his girlfriend is also as stubborn as a fucking rock.

“Why not?” He returns to her on the couch, throwing an arm over the back. “You really don’t think I’m romantic? I’ll let you know that I’m great at all that stuff. And when finals begin, we’ll get too busy with grading and studying so I think it’s a great time to do that now.”

Yasmine looks torn, which really perplexes him. “Are you so worried about being seen with me, Yasmine?” he jokes.

“No,” she answers slowly. Too slowly. She looks back at the TV. “It’s just that I haven’t been on a real date like that before.”

“Poor baby. But I haven’t even told you what we're going to do. You might hate the idea.”

“The fact that you called it a real date tells me all I need to know.”

He smiles, the back of his hand brushing against her shoulder. “You’ve never been on something called a real date?”

“I don’t think so.”

She looks so cute, frowning like that. He can’t help it. He leans over and kisses her head. She scowls at him. He doesn’t mind a single bit. 

Yasmine doesn’t pull away though. After staring him down with her dark, intimidating eyes, she leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “Fine. We can go on a date.”

“Don’t make it sound like it’s a death sentence, Yasmine.”

“It depends on where you’ll take me.”

He leans his head on hers. “We’ve never gone to a good restaurant and had overly expensive yet mediocre food? Never went out for dessert either and swapped food. That’s what they do in romance movies.”

Yasmine takes his hand and puts it in her lap She squeezes her fingers around his before beginning to play with his rings. “And how many, on average, romance movies do you usually watch, Harry?”

“Oh plenty. I take notes too.”

“You’ve gotta let me see them sometime.”

He says, “No way. Take your own notes.”

“I don’t watch romance movies. Not as much as you apparently.”

He shrugs. “I’m a man with taste, what can I say? Maybe if you switched out a horror movie with a romance once in a while, you would–”

Yasmine shudders. “I’d never do that.”

“I seriously don’t understand how you don’t have nightmares. The last movie we watched, we literally saw someone get sliced in half.”

“And it was wonderful.”

He gives her a look. “Have you considered therapy?”

“Even more therapy? Give me a break.”

Harry’s arm is completely around her now. She’s left her hair out so it brushes against his cheek. He doesn’t mind that either, enjoying the feel of her soft strands. She usually keeps her hair in ponytails or buns, so he takes advantage and runs his fingers through it.

For some reason, Yasmine immediately feels the need to explain herself. “When I showered this morning, I didn’t dry it so I couldn't put it up.”

Harry shakes his head. “I love when it’s down.”

To this, Yasmine scowls again. “Stop.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He bites his inner cheek to avoid smiling. “I’m looking at you how I always do.” His fingers trail down, ghosting over her jaw. “Can you give me a kiss?”

Apparently not only has she never been on a real date, but she’s also never been with someone who shows her affection so outwardly. When she gets embarrassed, her defenses immediately go up, hence the blush currently spreading across her cheeks.

“No.”

“No?” He tilts his head. “Please?”

“No.” She looks away. “Go away actually.”

Harry laughs softly, wrapping his other arm around her too. He lifts her up into his lap and tightens his hold, making sure she can’t get away. Yasmine doesn’t exactly push him away, but doesn’t look at him either.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, kissing her head again. “We’re dating. I’m allowed to–”

“You say things like that,” Yasmine interrupts, her face hot to the touch, “out of nowhere. It catches me off guard.”

He laughs again. “Okay. Sorry. I will give you warnings before I say something similar.”

“Good.”

“Yasmine.”

She begrudgingly turns her head. “What?”

“I am going to say something very ridiculously romantic and cheesy. Please brace yourself.”

Her jaw tightens. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Can I say it? Please, oh please?”

She crosses her arms. “Go ahead,” she mutters.

“I think,” he says quietly, twirling her hair between his fingers, “that you are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. And I’d really really like for you to kiss me.”

Yasmine’s face is so red, Harry wants to laugh once more, but he holds back, watching the words settle around in her head. “I hate you,” she whispers, her hands balled into fists. “You just say things.”

“I do say things,” he whispers back. “Because I want you to know precisely how I feel. I reckon one of us should be good at communication.”

“I am wonderful at communicating!”

“Oh yeah?”

Her lips thin. “Don’t oh yeah me.”

“Does it bother you? Poor baby.”

Yasmine’s eyes are narrowed. She stares at him menacingly for a full 3 seconds before her fingers slide into his hair, and she kisses him so deeply, he’s pushed back into the sofa. His grip tightens around her waist, a smile curling onto his lips. She may not be good at communicating verbally, but her body language gives it all away. She’s just as infatuated as he is. Harry’s other hand holds the back of her head. Fuck, he thinks to himself when she slides her hands down and grabs his collar, pushing herself further into his lap. She pulls away to steal a quick breath and then kisses him again. This woman.

Harry tilts his head back and lets her adjust herself on his thighs, her knees on either side of his hips. It seems like they always fall into this position whenever one of them is over and the other’s place, and if they’re together, he’d very much rather be doing this. No wonder they haven’t gone on a “real date” when this is all they do.

Yasmine pulls off of him, her eyes a bit glazed over but the frown still intact. It’s honestly impressive how dedicated she is to being upset with him. He cups her face. “You like me so bad.”

“I don’t!” she answers breathlessly.

“Are you refusing to go on a date with me because we can’t be doing this in public? Trust me, when I get you home, we’ll do this and so much more.”

She pinches his earlobe. “That’s not it.”

“I’d love to know what it really is then.”

Yasmine looks away, removing her hands from his collar, tucking them into her lap. She sighs and stays silent for some time while gathering her thoughts. Harry only watches her, too mesmerized by the expressions on her face before she speaks. 

“I don’t know what to do on a date.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “What to…do?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles. “How to be normal.”

“Well, I can pick the first place to go. I actually had something in mind. Something we’d both like.”

She sighs again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that dates are awkward and so far we haven’t been like that so I don’t want it to sneak up on us.”

Harry smiles. “Yasmine, first dates are definitely awkward. But we’ve been together for two months now. I don’t think there’s any weirdness between us or you wouldn’t be sitting in my lap right now.”

As expected, she immediately goes to roll away. He snickers and holds her down.

“Besides,” Harry says. “I think we get along very well. I just want to treat you to something nice. I didn’t think it would take this amount of convincing just to get you to go to dinner with me.”

“We’ve had dinner together.”

“I most certainly don’t hope you mean at the dining hall.”

“No…” She very clearly does.

He gathers her up in his arms. “Dinner this weekend then.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me?”

“I tried that. Now I’m ordering you.” He kisses her softly. “You will have dinner with me this weekend or else.”

She frowns. “Or else what?”

“Or else I will make you watch my favorite movie with me.”

She blinks.

“Of the Star Wars variety,” he finishes.

“No!” 

“Yes!”

She starts wiggling out of his hold so he lets her go. She’s on her feet. “You can’t make me!”

“Oh I can and I will.” He shrugs. “Wear something fancy, by way. I’m paying so all you have to do, my frightening girl, is show up and provide me with your company. It won’t be that bad.” He reaches for her hand. “Come on. I know you want to go out with me. I can tell.”

She doesn’t deny it this time. He’s mentioned the date so many times, so she's probably accustomed to the idea now. When she answers, it’s a nod, and when she tells him it’s late and she needs to go back, Harry tugs on her hand until she falls against him and says, “Wanna stay?”

(Yasmine’s glad he asked because there’s no chance in hell she’d straight up give him the satisfaction of asking him.)

***

At night, they’re cuddling in his bed when Yasmine suddenly turns her lamp on and moves to face him. He’s had his face buried in her hair, arms around her tight from behind, ankles crossed with hers. His eyes open when she turns, adjusting his hold.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey back.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“I’m answering, so I guess not.”

“Hmm.” She searches blindly for his hand. He laces their fingers together. “When you say dress fancy, what does that mean? I don’t think I have fancy clothes.”

He closes his eyes. “You remember that one dress you wore a while back? The one that kind had a corset sort of middle?”

The silence that follows is so deafening, Harry opens his eyes to check if she’s fallen asleep. Instead, she’s staring at him with a weird look.

“What?” he murmurs.

“I only own one corset dress. The black one?”

“Mhm,” Harry says. “That one. The one with the sleeves that kept falling down your shoulders. So pretty.”

“I wore it a year ago.”

“Yeah.”

“How the hell do you remember that?”

He smiles. “Remember everything about you.”

“You didn’t even know me then.”

Harry hugs her. “I’ve always known you, Yasmine. You just never looked at me.”

“Oh I did plenty of looking.”

“Looking not ogling.”

“I don’t ogle!”

“Sure. But yes, wear that. With those black heels boots you wear with your dress pants for seminars. And leave your hair out.”

“You have so many demands.”

“Don’t let them fool you,” he murmurs. “I like you just as much in sweatpants.” Yasmine’s silent again. Harry chuckles. “Too much?”

“You are always too much,” she whispers. Despite her words, she snuggles in closer. He kisses her forehead.

Yasmine doesn’t ask him any more questions. She falls asleep against him, still holding his hand.

***

The day of the date comes, and Harry’s gone all out. Currently, he’s standing by her door, bouncing on his heels with anticipation.

He doesn’t even have the time to compliment her outfit and her beautiful hair. Yasmine looks at him and then the flowers in his hand, and then promptly shuts the door in his face. Harry leans against the frame and laughs quietly. “Oh come on! I couldn’t resist it.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to take them with us.” He reaches for the door handle, stepping into her apartment. “I just wanted to see that look on your face.”

He holds the flowers out to her, looking at her pointedly. “Go on. Take them.”

She slowly wraps her hands around the stems and takes them. As expected, her face is flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“You look beautiful,” he continues, sweeping her into his arms. “The dress is just how I remembered.” 

Yasmine pulls the dress down a bit. “A little short though.”

“Oh I know.”

“Of course you do.” 

Harry watches her set the flowers neatly on her kitchen counter. She turns to him. “You look great too.”

“I know.” Harry’s gone for a more casual look with a black shirt, jeans, and a jacket. He has a hand tucked into his pocket, and he can tell just from how she’s looking at him that he looks damn well better than just “great.”

He holds a hand out. “Are you ready for a wonderful night with just me and you?”

She takes his hand and lets him tug her close. “Yes, however, I’ve thought a lot about it and I can’t agree with you paying for it all.”

“No, Yasmine. This is a real date.”

“I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” He holds her chin. “I really am.” 

“We’ll see.”

“Yasmine,” he murmurs. “No.” He bends down to kiss her gently. “Now let's go. We’ve got reservations and I’ve got an Uber waiting downstairs.”

“Oh I can–”

“Which has already been paid for.”

She’s staring dagger at him when he smiles, pulls away, and begins to lead her out the door. When she’s finished locking up, he takes her hand, and starts to walk to the elevator.

“It’s going to be a good night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I promise.”

[studyblri]

🐈‍⬛️༉‧˚｡🎓𖤐₊˖°. a lil update ₊ෆ🍙⋆🫧‹𝟹🎧⋆˚✧˖

�� I'm done with my last internship!! which means im no longer a student, but now unemployed :DD

⊹ I went to a wedding for the first time in about 7 or 8 years, i think. it was lively! (I took the middle-left picture there.)

⊹ I (unintentionally) lost weight. Around 7-8 kilos since may. i mean, i needed to lose weight and I still do, but the fact that it happened without dieting makes me happy :)

⊹ I’m visiting Germany in September!! I’m sooo excited because the only time i’ve been abroad was for just 4 days, but this time i’ll be there for almost a month!! i’m trying to stay calm, but i’m seriously so excited!!!

⊹ I need a series to binge!! i officially don’t have school starting tomorrow!! it’s impossible to believe lol. i need some dramas to watch… please suggest some ;)) (i also love true crime docuseries!)

⊹ i still have some things to do, though—like graduation and internship paperwork. It’s just paperwork, but the deadlines are important, and there’s a lot of it. So, I still need to focus and get things done. (boo hoo)

⊹ College is over, but I still need to study for language proficiency and master's exams in November. I'll be updating this blog more frequently from now on!!

⊹ I'm starting therapy this month, and this time I'm determined to go through with it. i know it's a bit ironic, being a psychology grad and being scared of therapy :) But i never knew where to start or how to openly face the challenges. Sharing everything with a stranger also feels uneasy :) I still don't feel fully ready for it, but I've decided to cross that bridge when I come to it. I just need to take that first step,,

TL;DR

I’ve closed a chapter in my life now, and I’m already excited for the next phase—my master’s journey. For this summer, I had so many plans, but I couldn’t find the time for most of them :( Now, I’ll focus on relaxing while also staying productive over the next two months. I don’t want to push myself too hard, though, because I haven’t had a vacation longer than one month since 2020!

╰┈➤‎ ‧ ₊ ˚ ✧ [ ♡٭* 🎧💿༘ ⋆๋࣭ ] ✧ ˚ ₊ ‧

For the past two weeks, I’ve been listening to just this album. Thanks to Google’s algorithm, the moment I started listening, my YouTube recommendations were flooded with analysis videos about Tyler, the Creator and IGOR :) He’s truly an amazing artist, and although I don’t have enough knowledge to praise him thoroughly, I can definitely appreciate how impressive this masterpiece is. You’ve probably heard it before, but I hope you’ll click and listen to it from start to finish again when you see this post!

bye!

[melodygatesauthor]

Save Us

Moon Boys X f!Reader

Summary: Two months after Marc broke up with you, you get a late night call from Steven that has you worried and rushing to help them. It's hard to face them again after things went wrong, but Marc is going to try and make it up to you.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, Marc is kinda toxic, Marc needs therapy, Marc has issues, Marc needs a hug, THIS STORY IS ANGSTY, may be triggering if you've been in a toxic relationship before, sad, smut, p in v creampie, argument, breakup, exes to lovers trope, soft dom Steven, sorry in advance, no physical abuse

Major Trigger Warning: this story explores themes of emotional abuse. It was very self indulgent. If you’ve been a victim of emotional abuse (or are sensitive to topics like this) then this may be upsetting to you. You’ve been warned. I seriously went the full self indulgent route with this one. Had to work some personal stuff out and it helped!

Word Count: 9.9k (What in the...)

You were awoken in the dead of night to your phone vibrating loudly on the end table at your bedside. You groaned, sitting up and looking at the screen. Clear as day, it said, My Boys🌙. You still needed to change their name in your phone, or completely block their number. It rang until it went to voicemail, but that’s when you saw that there were seven missed calls.

You hadn’t heard from any of them in the two months since Marc had broken up with you, and now they’d called you seven times. It rang again, this time you jumped up and grabbed it immediately. You didn’t want to talk to them, but you knew it must be serious for one of them to be actually calling you. 

“H-hello? Hello?” You cleared your throat.

“Dove? Darling?” You heard Steven on the other end and you let out an exhale.

You weren’t ready to deal with Marc, but Steven…at first you were relieved it was him, but the more you thought about it, Steven was worse. Steven might be able to convince you to come back.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, feeling your chest already tighten at the tone of his voice.

“No, no I’m afraid it’s not.” He was sobbing. You felt your own eyes start welling up. “We need your help.”

“Are you in danger? What’s wrong?” You tried to keep the panic down in your voice.

“I…I think I’m a little drunk, but we’re sobering up.” You could hear it now that he’d mentioned it, the slurring of his words as he spoke. “I haven’t been in the front in a long time, it’s always Marc, he won’t…oh my…he won’t let Jake or me out. We’ve been trapped in there.”

“Ok, you need to tell me where you are, right now.” You demanded.

“I’m outside of a…” You heard him pull the phone away from his face.

“Hey, watch it!” Steven yelled.

You heard some scuffling, followed by some Spanish slurs, before the phone was picked up again.

“Mi princesa.” Jake said. “We’re at the corner of Elm and Main, at a place called Tiko’s. I can feel Marc trying to take over again…por favor, querida, we need you.”

The line went dead. It was rare that Jake uttered the words por favor, or we need you. Steven’s cries would remain burned into your memory for an eternity. He cried when you’d left too, and you still hadn’t forgotten the pain. It was all you thought about as you got yourself dressed and headed for their location. You knew right where it was, it was where you and Marc had first met.

------------------------

It was also where he went just before he broke up with you. He’d come home, wasted, completely obliterated and crying. It was constant, and you were sick of it. He refused to go to therapy, said it was for nutjobs, and he didn’t want them drugging him up. You understood, you sympathized, but instead you were stuck trying to handle his terrible self-loathing attitude, and toxic behavior.

“Why don’t you just fucking leave then? Huh? If you’re not happy then why don’t you just go!” His mouth turned into a hard line, his brow furrowed.

That was always his go to line whenever things got tough. Always telling you to leave if you didn’t like it. You sometimes wondered why he even asked you out in the first place if this is how he was.

“Ok Marc, is that really what you want? You want me to leave? Fine…you say it every time we fight so you know what, I’ll go then.”

The two of you had moved in together a year ago, but you moved in to his place, so almost everything was his, Steven’s and Jake’s. The TV that had a purple spot in the corner when you turned it on from the time Marc threw one of Steven’s books at it in a fit of rage; the stool at the breakfast bar that had a wobbly leg from the time Marc pushed it over while he was drunk and yelling at you; and the dresser in the bedroom that had a broken drawer from when he punched it, it was all his.

It was heartbreaking to walk away from the other two though. They didn’t have anything to do with it. When Marc backed out, retreating to the headspace, too upset to handle the pressure, Jake came out. That was the final straw. He couldn’t even be bothered to have a conversation with his girlfriend after berating her for over an hour. He did it time and time again, and this time…you’d had enough.

“Princesa, please don’t go.” Jake said, walking up to you quickly while you started filling a bag with clothes.

“Jake.” You pulled your arm back quickly when he grabbed it.

“Cariño.” He grabbed your arm again.

“No!” You yelled a little too loudly in your apartment. “I’m done Jake. I can’t do this. You want someone to blame? Blame Marc.”

Jake was never one to give up easily, so he must’ve been able to tell how serious you were when he let go of your arm again and forfeited the body to Steven. The bastard, he knew that of the three, Steven would be the one to get you to stay. He’d done it time and time again. Always telling you that he’d confront Marc himself and that he’d work on making Marc be better for the four of you, but even Steven couldn’t help Marc, you were convinced at this point that no one could.

“Darling please,” there came the waterworks. Even when it wasn’t your fault, Steven made you feel guilty. “He’s gotten a little better, yeah? Look…”

You were still filling your bag with clothes while Steven walked to the kitchen and came back with a card.

“He got you this for your birthday.” He held the birthday card in his hand like it was supposed to be the one thing stitching the relationship together. “I didn’t even have to remind him! He did it on his own!”

You stopped, holding a pair of jeans in your hands. You looked at Steven. He was desperate. His eyes were glossed over while he tried to keep it together. You remembered when Marc got you that card, it was the day after a fight, and he felt guilty. He only ever did anything nice when he felt guilty the next day, never when it really counted.

“They’re both assholes for putting you through this.” You said, feeling yourself choking up. “I can’t do this anymore Steven, Marc doesn’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here.”

“But he’s nice sometimes, look he also…” Steven was scrambling around the apartment.

You walked to the bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush and other personal care items. When you looked in the mirror, you noticed your saddened face and realized how much you’d been crying. You’d probably been crying for at least an hour. You wiped your cheeks and went back out to the bedroom where Steven was standing with a vase.

“He got you this vase, remember when you were sick and he went and got you flowers?” Steven asked. You saw his eyebrows raise in an attempt to look happier, but they were fighting to furrow.

“Steven, please go.” You grabbed the vase and put it in the bathroom trash. “You know he only got me those because I had just complained the day before about how he never does anything nice for me? He only does something nice after I’ve complained about it.”

“I can’t just go.” He looked like a lost puppy trying to get you to keep him. “They’re both just out, quiet, I wish I could leave.”

You sighed, wiping your face and sniffling, “then they’re both fucked for doing that to you. You don’t need to be here, dealing with this. Marc is selfish, and…that’s it! He’s selfish! He’s the one who did this, he’s the one who should be here. He’s a fucking coward.”

You threw the bathroom items in your bag and then zipped it.

“Tell Marc I’ll have my brother come back for the rest of my things.” You grabbed your purse and pulled out your keys.

“Sweetheart, love, please!” Steven raised his voice, cracking under the weight of sorrow.

You turned around, “I’m so so sorry baby. I really am.” You said through your own strained voice. “You deserve better than what he’s putting you through, and so do I, I wish I could help you.”

------------------------

With that, and one last look at Steven’s broken face and waterfall of tears, you slammed the door and never looked back, until now, when you were turning the corner on the street to find Jake leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette. You got out of the car and pulled your jacket around yourself tighter. You felt like an idiot for coming back after what Marc put you through, but there you were. You reminded yourself that you weren’t there for Marc, you were there for Jake and for Steven.

“Jake, come on.” You said, waving him over.

“Oh, hermosa, I missed you.” He winked as he walked over to you. He was stinking of alcohol and smoke.

“Put that thing out.” You grabbed it from his lips and dropped it, crushing the butt under your shoe. “Let’s go.” You took his hand, to which he pulled you in close.

“You are as beautiful as the day you left, perhaps even more.” He cupped your cheek and leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back.

“I didn’t come here to get back together with you, I came back to get you home in one piece.” You pushed him back, and he stumbled and fell.

He shook his head, “Wha-oh right, I’m here and…” Steven looked up at you, it always amazed you how different each of them looked regardless of the fact that they shared the same body. “Oh my…love!”

Steven stood up and couldn’t hide the smile plastered on his drunken face. He gripped your shoulders before pulling you in for a hug. He wasn’t going to try and kiss you like Jake had, he was too respectful of your boundaries to do anything like that. Even when you were dating, he always respected your personal space.

“We really got ourselves in a predicament, yeah? Well…” He chuckled, “Marc did. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you.”

“I need you to just get in the car, we can talk on the way back to your place.” You said, urging him into the vehicle.

When you got in on your side you let out a heavy sigh and put the car in drive before heading toward their apartment. The streetlights afforded you a split second of light before fading into darkness again. The radio was off, leaving nothing but silence. You heard Steven sniffle, fighting back the urge to cry.

“Tell me what happened, why did you call? I made it very clear-”

“Marc isn’t letting me or Jake out, it’s just headspace all day every day. He’s destroying us.” Steven said, choking on his words. “I don’t know when the last time we ate something proper was. I’m so hungry.” He pressed a hand to his stomach.

“Do you have food at the house?” You asked, pulling down a different road.

“Y-yeah I think he’s got a few things…I don’t know.” He said, laying his head back. “I missed you.” He was crying again, “I’m sorry, I said I wasn’t going to do this before I called you.”

“It’s fine. I’m…I’m glad you called me, Steven.” You said, keeping your eyes on the road.

“We had a lot of time to think after you left, and…he really didn’t deserve you, I never should’ve asked you to stay. I’m so sorry.” Just when Steven’s cries became overwhelmingly loud, they stopped suddenly, and you knew it was Jake coming back. You’d grown to know them so well that you could tell the differences between the way they each breathed when they were upset.

“Keep him in there please, at all costs.” You said coldly, trying to keep your composure.

“Si.” Was all he said. You knew he understood.

Steven wasn’t a child, and didn’t need to be treated like one, but he was much more sensitive than the other two, and you knew that he was living a nightmare having to see you and go through this, and having you just within arm’s reach, but not being able to really have you. He had been a passenger in Marc’s path of destruction, just like you had, the only difference was that you could walk away, Steven just had to suffer in there and you felt terrible for him and Jake both.

“Marc has completely taken over. Saw a girl at the bar tonight though who kinda looked like you and then he went loco, yelled at her, he was so drunk, and then he went away.” You watched him pull a cigarette pack from his pocket. “Steven was so happy to be out, he just ran outside and knew he had to call you to get you to help. Something about that girl must’ve knocked Marc back.”

“You’re smoking again? I thought you quit.” You grabbed the pack and threw it into the back seat.

“It’s Marc’s pack.” He explained, dropping his hands on his lap. You could tell you irritated him.

Marc wasn’t a smoker. At least, he hadn’t been while you were together. Jake had been, but insisted on quitting after getting to know you.

“What has he been doing?” You asked as you pulled onto their street.

“Nothing.” Jake was aggravated. “He’s been doing absolutely fucking nothing except destroying himself and dragging us down with him.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been in there for two months, dos.” He held up two fingers to emphasize his point.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said, you didn’t know what else you could say. 

“I’m not mad at you, Cariño, I could never be mad at you.” He said calmly as you pulled into the driveway.

“Jake…” You put the car in park. “Did he hurt anyone?”

“No, no one except you, and Steven.” He said softly.

“And you. You might not be showing it but, I know you’re feeling it too.” You said quietly. He always stayed quiet about his feelings, but he wasn’t emotionless, he was just less expressive.

His hand reached over and grabbed yours.

“You have always been so caring, querida.” You tried to keep it inside, but a smirk played at the corners of your mouth, Jake was always so smooth.

“Please stop.” You pulled your hand out from under his and opened the door quickly.

If you’d let his hand linger, you’d be inclined to lean into it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. You damned yourself for even being there in the first place. You still had the key to their apartment and opened the door so the slightly staggering Jake could make his way inside. You made sure to lock it tightly and returned your keys to your pocket before helping Jake get to a chair at the table.

“Here.” You opened the fridge, only to find…nothing.

There were about two tablespoons of butter, opened, several sauce packets strewn about, a moldy tomato, and about three-twelve packs of beer. You took note that one of the twelve packs was down a few beers. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Guess he’s living on air and beer then?” You slammed the fridge closed.

“There’s some ramen I think, in the cupboard.” Jake said, letting out a huff. “Steven would appreciate the taste of food you know…”

“Think he can handle it?” You opened the cupboard and found some packages of dried noodles. “Being here with me?”

“He’s calmed down. I think he will be ok.” And with that, Jake was gone.

“I’m fine.” Steven said, sucking in a deep breath. “Really.”

You grabbed some water from the tap and handed it to Steven whose hands were trembling. He drank from the cup in big gulps, when he finished it, you poured him some more.

“Let me make you something to eat.” You said, turning to the cupboards.

There wasn’t one pan that you could use. They were all in the sink, or on the stove, and they were all dirty. Of course this couldn’t just be easy.

“He usually just microwaves somethin’, or eats the noodles dry.” You groaned at Steven’s words.

“I…nevermind.” You wanted to say how frustrated you were to be there trying to make food for them, and running into every obstacle along the way, but you decided not to dump that on Steven.

Instead you ran the hot water and grabbed the sponge. You soaked it and then started washing the dishes, lathering soap on each one in silence, knowing Steven’s eyes were on your back. You felt saddened by the memories flooding through your head, thinking about all the times you’d been at the sink doing the dishes for them before.

------------------------

There was one time when Steven was fronting and he was sitting at the table while you did dishes after dinner, and he was going on about some Egyptian God you couldn’t remember the name of now. You were smiling in this memory, unable to suppress the joy that came to you while listening to him chattering on about his passions. When you’d finished scrubbing and turned to look at him. He was absolutely beaming, and so were you. You were…happy then.

“How did we get so lucky?” He asked, standing up and walking over to you.

He put his hands on your waist and kissed your forehead.

“Well, Jake’s a smooth talker, you’re thoughtful and sweet and Marc…” you trailed off.

You and Marc had never seen eye to eye. He was always pushing you away. Always telling you how he should just disappear and let Jake and Steven have the body so that you could be happy. But that wasn’t what you wanted, at least, that’s what you told him. You wondered what made you fall for him in the first place sometimes, but that didn’t matter now, you loved him, right?

“Marc what?” You watched his entire body language change, and he let go of you, stepping back. He chuckled, “hard to find anything to huh? What do I keep telling you?”

You groaned, wishing that he would’ve just let you and Steven have a nice evening, but you’d struck a nerve, and Marc loved to fight. He liked to make you feel bad, at least that’s how it felt, and then leave right when you pushed too far so that Jake or Steven were left to pick up the pieces. You tried to be understanding, you knew he had trauma, but sometimes he was just cruel.

“Please don’t start, Marc, not tonight I’m exhausted.” You walked toward the bedroom and he followed, hot on your heels.

“No! Don’t you walk away from me…!” He said your name with venom laced around each letter, “we never get to talk, the other two always get the best of you and then when I come in, you…you just walk away!”

You pressed your lips together tightly in frustration.

“Are you suggesting that when I see you, Marc, that you give me the best version of yourself? Hm? Because from the way I see it, every time you’re fronting, you treat me like you don’t fucking want me here!” You felt your eyes starting to gloss over. “Not to mention, you say I’m an ass for walking away? You always retreat into the headspace every single time we argue!”

“You ever think that maybe I actually don’t want you here? How many times have I told you to leave? If I treat you so badly, then just go!” He yelled.

“Why can’t you just stop being an asshole and then I don’t have to leave?! I don’t want to go Marc, I want you to love me and treat me like you want me around!” Now you couldn’t stop the dam from flooding over. Tears were coming down, and fast, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Marc dipped out. “I love you, I don’t want to go.”

“No, you don’t love me, you love Steven, and Jake, but not me.” He said, and his words were followed by silence that hung heavily in the air.

He was right, and you weren’t going to say it out loud, but he was right. When you’d first met them, it was just Marc at first. He was sweet, caring, he treated you like a princess. The more you got to know the boys, the more you grew to love them all, and the longer you were together, the more Marc started to push you away. Because you deserved better than him, and he was no good for you, or at least that’s what he said.

------------------------

That was the moment you’d realized you really didn’t love Marc anymore. You still held him in your heart, but the spark wasn’t there. Instead it was replaced with an anxiousness that pooled in your gut like a bad meal. You turned and looked at Steven once you’d finished the dishes. He was staring up at you from the chair with those big eyes you loved so much.

“Let me get this food going before he takes over again.” You grabbed one of the pots you cleaned and filled it with water before putting it on the stove.

When you turned around, Steven was standing with his hands balled into nervous fists at his sides, eyes trained on the floor. He did that when he wanted to say something but knew he shouldn’t. You put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a little bit and met your gaze.

“What is it?” You asked. “Talk to me?”

“No, nope, I’m, I’m fine.” He said, pressing his lips together tightly.

“Steven, it’s three am, I drove over here to help you, I washed the dishes and now I’m cooking you food. I think you can talk to me.” You said firmly.

He let out an exhale, “I miss you s’all.”

“I know, I miss you too. I just can’t…I can’t…”

“I know. I hate him too.” Steven looked agitated, more agitated than you’d seen him in a long time.

------------------------

The last time he was this bold regarding Marc was that same night, right after Marc had accused you of not loving him. After dropping those words on you, he left, letting Steven have you, the blubbering crying mess, that he’d left behind. It wasn’t the first time that you cried because of Marc, and each time chipped away at Steven more and more until he’d had enough too.

“Love,” he rushed over to you, pulling you in tightly, letting you soak his shirt for the umpteenth time, “you know if I could hit him, I would.”

You didn’t respond, you just sobbed into Steven’s chest, trying to let yourself be soothed by the gentle way he rubbed your back. You liked the way he smelled, the way they all smelled, and you kissed his chest just above where your tears had soaked his shirt.

“I love you, Steven, and I love Marc too.” You said, unsure whether you were trying to convince him or yourself, or maybe you were trying to convince the man hiding inside his own head.

“I know darling, I think he knows, he just gets caught up in his own head sometimes.” He chuckled, “well, I guess all three of us do.”

That forced a small amused breath to escape you. The air already felt lighter, and you were starting to cope with the emotional turmoil Marc had put you through. This was how it always went, Marc would start a fight, you’d be left with Steven or Jake, and slowly your emotions would come back to normal with the help of his alters just in time for him to break you down again. It was a never ending cycle.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” You murmured, pulling back. “Steven, I love you, I love all three of you but-“

He silenced you with his lips over yours.

“That’s enough of that.” He said in a forceful but quiet tone. “I’ll keep him in there if I have to, I’m not letting him push you away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, and you wished he’d been able to do it, but he couldn’t. That didn’t stop him from seizing the moment while he had it though, pulling you in for soft kisses and entangled tongues. Steven’s favorite body part was your breasts, that’s how you could tell sometimes if the boys switched mid session. One time Jake had taken over while Steven was buried in your chest and immediately began squeezing your rear.

Not now though, now Steven was dragging your shirt up while he trekked his hand over your abdomen on his way to squeeze your rounded mound. You gasped a heated moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and entangling your fingers into his curls. The supporting hand on your back gripped tightly, pulling you in so hard you thought you might melt into one being.

“I love you, Steven.” You said, going in for more breathy kisses.

“I love you too darling.” He started slowly pushing you backward until the backs of your knees met the mattress.

You fell back, chest heaving. Steven was ripping off Marc’s jacket and shirt and you were quick to get your top off as well. He preferred you leave in your bra, he said he liked to take it off himself. Something about the way they looked when he unclasped the strap in the back, you didn’t fully understand, but you didn’t argue either.

“Wow…” he said, looking down at you. “You’re so beautiful, dove.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You were sure you looked frightful, eyes puffy from tears, makeup streamed down your face, but Steven always told you how pretty you were, no matter what. He was good at that. He climbed over you, hovering his body closely over yours. You felt the peak of his erection pressing onto your leg through his pants.

“Oh, Steven…” you moaned, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to yours in deep, bruising kisses.

He was grinding himself on your leg, moaning every time he opened his mouth over yours in another wet and messy kiss. Supporting himself on one elbow, he reached around your back and unhooked your bra with one hand before disconnecting your lips to look at your chest. When he pulled the bra up over your arms, he stared in awe at your tits, wasting no more time before latching his mouth over one of them.

“Oh, f-fuck.” You stammered, gripping the back of his head.

One of his hands ran up your abdomen and grabbed your other nipple, pinching it between his fingers. You arched your back, pushing your chest further into his face and hand. You felt him gently churning his hips and grinding into you. He was sloppily sucking on your peak, covering your tit in his saliva.

“Mm, feels good baby.” You groaned, rolling your hips upward, wishing you’d taken your pants off before this.

Steven, who you’d thought would be the most timid when it came to sex, became silently demanding in the bedroom when it came to what you were and weren’t allowed to do. He liked to be the one to undress you, and he liked to be the one who started the physical piece. He liked to take his time, making you yearn until you nearly exploded the moment he entered you.

He leaned back. The shadow of his erection was oh so apparent in his sweats. It took everything inside of you not to sit forward and grab it. Steven’s little curl fell in front of his eyes, and he didn’t bother to brush it away as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them off.

“Oh love, look you’ve soaked straight through your little panties there.” He leaned over, burying his face in the fabric of your underpants and inhaling deeply. His pussy drunken eyes, hooded and dark, peered over your mound at you. “I’m just going to have a little taste, darling…just a little…” 

He moved your panties to the side and ran his tongue along your slit, flicking sharply once he got to your clit. A gasp escaped your lips as you shifted your hips forward toward Steven’s face. He pressed a large hand on your abdomen, holding you down.

“Sh-shit.” You gripped the sheets tightly.

Steven, despite Jake’s overall skill in the bedroom, was the best at eating pussy. The way his tongue glided over each part of your cunt, and the way he slurped and groaned to your taste like he was savoring each drop made you lose your mind. He knew to put a hand down to keep you in place, otherwise your hips would force him off the bed completely. He looked up at you, eyes dark and hungry, before looking back down at his work. You tangled one of your hands into his hair, urging him on.

“Mm, Steven you always know just…oh shit…just what to do baby.” You cooed, tugging at his curls

If there was one way to help you get over a fight with Marc, this was it, and Steven and Jake knew that. They’d fuck you until you could hardly walk and then cuddle you while you fell asleep.

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Steven was quiet now while you finished making the ramen noodles. You had to keep your back to him while you cooked, otherwise you were going to break down and fall into bed with him and that wouldn’t be good for either of you. Now that you were finished, he was sitting at the table again. You put the noodle bowl in front of him with a fork.

“I hope you like it.” You said genuinely.

Steven looked up at you, “it’s wonderful love, really.”

Steven seemed happy, at least, somewhat, to be getting some food in his stomach, even if it wasn’t the most nutritious. You wondered if he’d had the chance to enjoy any sort of meal since Marc had taken over, but from the way he and Jaked talked, this was the first time either of them had been out in a long time.

You kept trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about Marc, but a big part of you was curious as to why he took over the boy all that time. The other part of you already kind of knew.

“He really has been fronting this whole time? Why?” You walked over and sat at the table across from Steven.

Steven shrugged, “you know him, he likes to suffer, thinks he’s some kind of hero if he takes the pain himself. A bit messed up innit? Usually once the pain part is over, I come out yeah? Not anymore, the pain part never ends. It’s just…he’s always hurtin’.”

“I’m surprised that Jake hasn’t taken over, when things get really tough, he’s usually right there, ready to deal with it.” You idly picked at a tear in the tablecloth.

“I think Jake likes watching Marc…well…destroy himself.” He stuffed some noodles in his mouth. Steven was probably the only person in the world who could talk with a mouthful that didn’t make you frustrated with their poor manners. “Problem is, it’s destroying us too, and I don’t want to die.” He gulped. “S’why I called you. I thought if anyone could help, it would be you.”

“I’m glad I could help get you home, but I’m…I’m not staying Steven.” The room got quiet again.

He reached a hand across the table and put it over yours. You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve pulled away and told him to cut the crap, but his hand, his gentle and soft hand made you feel warm. Nausea swept through you as you recalled more about your time with the boys.

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Marc was smiling from across the table at you, holding your hand tightly. You were smiling too. It had been a perfect night. It was New Year’s Eve, and you’d both decided to stay in, and spend it with each other. It was three nights before the breakup, three nights before he finally brought you to the breaking point. He laughed at a silly joke you made, and now he just looked at you with those eyes.

That’s why you’d fallen in love with Marc. He had a way of making you feel like you were the most important thing in the world to him. In fact, you were so important to him that he felt like you were better off without him. He had a troubled past, he didn’t hide that. He eased into telling you about the boys, afraid of scaring you off, but he told you about his mother and about his brother before you’d met the other two. In fact, knowing about his trauma was the only reason you didn’t call him crazy and leave when he told you about Jake and Steven.

He got up and leaned over the table, placing a peck on your forehead. He grabbed your plates and walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet to wash the dishes. Your phone buzzed. It was your brother.

Joe: Hey! I’m going to be in town tomorrow, is it cool if I come over?

“Oh, Joe is asking if he can come over tomorrow.” You paused. “Should be fine right?”

The dishes clanked in the sink and the faucet stopped. Not again, you thought.

“You act different when your brother is here.” He said, turning around and wiping his hands on a towel.

“He’s my brother, of course I act different with him than I do with-”

“No, I mean…you treat me different when he’s around.” He slapped the dish towel on the counter and walked to the living room.

You buried your face in your hands. It was a simple question. Can your brother come over tomorrow? There was no reason to say no, in fact, you only asked out of courtesy. It was a way of making sure you weren’t interfering with some unknown plans. Steven or Jake would’ve just said, of course, with some term of endearment attached to the end.

The night would be even worse if you didn’t follow Marc to the living room, so you got up and went to him. He was back to, staring out the window.

“Marc, I don’t want to fight with you, I’ll just text him and-”

“Yep, just tell him that your nutjob, douchebag boyfriend doesn’t want you around your family.” He said, keeping himself turned away from you. “Make me out to be the bad guy. You’re good at that.”

“Alright you know what? I’m not doing this, Marc.” You threw your arms up before walking to the door and grabbing your keys out of the change bowl.

“Yeah? So you’re just going to leave then?” He turned and looked at you now. “Good, it’s probably for the best.”

“Fuck you.” You slammed the door behind yourself.

You’d gone down to the parking lot and started your car but you didn’t leave yet. You just sat there, crying for a bit, thinking even more about what he’d said, you act different when your brother is here. You hated to admit when Marc was right, but you did act differently toward him. In fact, you downright avoided him. He and your brother didn’t always see eye to eye, and you hadn’t exactly told Joe about Marc’s…condition, so it wasn’t like one of the boys could take his place; Besides, you were sure that would’ve upset Marc even more, you asking one of them to replace him around your family. It would’ve made him feel even more inferior than he already did.

You further hated to admit that he didn’t deserve that. To do that would seem like you were ashamed of him. Like he was your little secret. The saddest thing though, was that it wasn’t the mental disorder that you were trying to hide from your brother, it was the way that Marc acted when your brother was around. You weren’t the only one that acted different with him around.

You laughed a lot, and joked with Joe, and you assumed Marc was probably jealous that you didn’t joke with him the same way, as though you hadn’t been close with your brother your entire life. So Marc would call Joe a punk and try to one-up him in almost everything, and it exhausted you.

While you sat there in your car, furious and thinking about what to do next, you surmised it must’ve been what Marc felt like, when he left the apartment in a huff, on the nights he didn’t hide behind the other two, and he went to the bar instead. You figured that if it worked for him, it would work for you, but you’d forgotten how busy it would be. You’d forgotten for a moment that it was New Year’s Eve.

That made it easier though. People were happy to buy you drinks, seeing that you’d walked into the bar in tears. Some guy offered to take you home, but you denied him, telling him you had three boyfriends waiting for you, to which he raised his eyebrows as if impressed and laughed. When you saw one of them out of the corner of your eye charging into the bar like he owned the place, you groaned.

The well dressed man in a paperboy cap and tie walked over, grabbing your arm.

“Come on, princesa.” You pulled back.

“Jake! I want to stay for one more song!” You shouted over the music.

“No, it’s time to go-”

You covered his mouth in a quick but gentle kiss, “por favor mi amor?” You asked as sweetly as you could.

Jake rolled his eyes, but you knew he couldn’t resist an opportunity to dance with you, especially not when you talked to him like that. A smile spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Dancing with Jake was more like foreplay than it was dancing. It always started facing each other. His hips would gently churn against you while you stood as close as you possibly could to him, chest to chest. His lips hardly left yours, and when they did, they instead found purchase on your neck.

The dancing always ended with your rear pressed against his erection while he dry humped you to the rhythm of the song. His leather covered fingers were around your throat while he kissed the side of your neck and cheek tenderly, drawing moans from you that couldn’t be heard over the music. By the time you finally agreed to leave, you were drunk, and a single finger stroke away from a full body, earth quaking orgasm.

You’d driven far, at least a half hour from home, giving Jake more than enough time to stick his hand in your pants while he drove and circle the smooth gloved fingers over your swollen clit. You were already so wet, he slid around easily. You gripped the door handle when you reached climax, moaning and gasping under his touch.

It didn’t stop there though, it never was that simple with Jake. He was going to give it to you when you got home. You’d been teasing his cock all night, running your hand over it through his nice pants. He would give you hell later for ruining them, as though he actually cared. As though he didn’t have ten more pairs at home.

Something about Jake made you feel different than the other two. You wanted to act out, you wanted to be the biggest brat you could just to see how far he’d push you back. The back and forth with Jake was fun though, it always ended in at least one orgasm from both of you, and smiles before dozing off. You were his little brat, and he adored putting you in your place.

That night was no different. You stumbled inside, he chased after you, closing the door with his foot. You were already removing your jacket.

“Get naked for me, cariño, papi will be in to check on you soon.” He said, giving you that smirk that caused your knees to buckle.

You went into the bedroom and wasted no time at all stripping down completely naked except for your panties. Jake always wanted you to keep your panties on, especially if they were wet. You sat at the end of the bed, waiting for him to come in. Be still your beating heart when he did.

His hat was off, likely resting on the coat hanger by the door, his jacket had been discarded as well. He was the most well dressed of the three, and boy did he make you drool standing there like that. His tie was loosened. His button down shirt was rolled up exposing his strong forearms and hands. He wiped his mouth, you were in awe watching the veins in his hands shift under the skin. He was one of the few men you’d seen that could make suspenders sexy.

“Princesa, you know that’s not how I like to see you…” He smirked at you again, an evil but playful grin.

You rolled over on your stomach and then up on all fours, presenting your rear to him proudly. He cooed about how beautiful your ass looked with a thin lacy fabric wedged between your cheeks. He brushed his bare palm over one of them and then smacked it gently. You heard the shuffling of his clothes being removed, along with the clanking from the metal on his belt. 

The bed shifted when you felt him get behind you. His finger hooked under the waistband of your panties and slid down, pulling them out of your crack.

“Oh, look at you hermosa.” He used his other hand to feel around between your folds, drawing soft whines from you. “Did you like teasing me? Hm?”

“Yes, papi.” You groaned, lowering your head to the mattress and angling your rear up higher for him.

“You had a rough night, so I’ll go easy on you cariño.” He said, dropping his tie in front of your face.

You knew what to do. You put it around your neck, feeling the soft fabric against your throat, and then reached back, handing him the excess. You felt it tighten under his grip as he pulled back. Jake would never harm you, but he loved to hurt you. Sometimes he’d leave little bite marks that Steven would obsessively rub disinfectant over the next day. Other times he’d leave bruises on your waist from how hard he squeezed and fucked into you.

You’d teased him so much at the bar that he didn’t spend as much time on foreplay as he usually did, and instead kept your head level by tugging on his tie, and getting you in position to ravage you. Sliding into you was easy, you’d been ready since your orgasm in the car. He had one hand, squeezing on your hip that would periodically slap your asscheek and then go back in for a bruising hold over you.

“Si, princesa, you feel so tight, so…mmm.” He could usually last a long time, but you’d spent quite a while rubbing his cock on the dance floor, and he couldn’t hold out.

In truth you didn’t need Jake to last long though, the way he moved he always made you come, every single time. Almost every single time. On the few times he didn’t, he wasn’t afraid to get down behind you and eat his spend out of you while flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves until you were gripping the sheets and begging for him to stop.

------------------------

You pulled your hand back from Steven’s, feeling a pang of guilt for holding it so long. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. As soon as your fingers left his, you saw the color leave his face. He dropped his fork and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Marc.” You said quietly.

He said your name coldly. He was fairly sober at this point. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed harshly. He reached for the glass of water and gulped some down. He was surprisingly gentle when he put the cup back down. You’d expected him to slam it.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He said. “But I guess now that I’m here, it’s time for you to leave right?”

“Marc, you told me to go. Remember?” You were already resisting your fight or flight response kicking in.

“Didn’t actually think you would go.” He sighed and shook his head. “Probably for the best, right?”

“Never better.” You slid your chair out, standing up.

“You look good…baby.” He said.

“Goodbye, Marc.” You weren’t going to do this…not again.

You’d almost made it to the door. Your hand felt the draft through the broken trim on the doorframe from when Marc pulled it open too harshly so many times. You felt his hand…usually he just let you walk away, but his hand touched yours and you couldn’t stop yourself from turning to face him.

“Marc why are you doing this…please just-”

He closed the tense space between you, covering your mouth in his over and over until you felt like you might collapse. Part of you still tried to pull back, but it was pointless, not because he was holding on too tightly, but because you weren’t trying all that hard. You’d given in to his tender touch, his desperation, his need to keep you.

All you’d thought about all night were the bad times, but there were some good ones too, and they came flooding in while he kissed you, one soft peck after another.

------------------------

You were sitting at the bar the night you’d met, alone, and the handsome man in a forest-green shirt sat down next to you. He caught your eye immediately with his gorgeous smile and the way his eyes wrinkled when he laughed. You were completely enamored from the moment you laid eyes on Marc, entranced by his very being. The two of you drank far too much, and shared far too much that night.

You weren’t one to put out on the first date, nor when it was your first time talking to someone, but you’d made an exception for Marc. You found yourself at his place that night, listening to him coo about how beautiful you were with his face buried in your neck. He was so sweet, gentle, and kind, you wanted to be around him more and more.

Your second date, a real date, was at a restaurant you both hadn’t been to, but talked about wanting to try through your texts. It was the worst food you’d ever had, but sneaking into the bathroom to get fucked over the sink was worth the time and money spent on the bad meal.

It was more than just the sex though, of course that was great, but it was the way Marc really made you feel like you could be yourself around him. He held your hand everywhere you went, as though you were a prize and he’d won and wanted to show you off. When you agreed to be his girlfriend he started looking for excuses to say it. He would call to order pizza and say, yes, for my half I’d like pepperoni and my girlfriend would like the other half with just cheese, please.

So on the nights that he got destructive, it made things even harder. You knew where it was all coming from. Guilt. He felt like you were too good for him, so he had the, push her away before she can push me away, and the, she’s not going to leave on her own so I need to make her leave, mentality. The good times made the bad times feel that much worse, and made it that much harder to walk away when it got really rough.

No matter what he’d thrown at you, you were willing to work through it with him, if only he’d let you. It was when the other two started coming around that things got really tough for Marc, seeing the way you were with them, how you smiled, and the way they made you so happy. For him, you assumed, it made him feel even more like he wasn’t good enough for you. He was jealous, full of hatred for his own shortcomings and unable to get over the pain he brought upon himself. If only he would’ve just talked to you, instead of pushing you away, you wouldn’t be in the position you were in right then.

------------------------

You couldn’t help giving in though, letting him peel off your clothing layer by layer until you were in just your panties, and he was completely undressed, pressed up against you in the bed. Steven was your selfless lover, the one who treated sex like an artform, savoring every single piece of your body as though it were sacred. Jake was your rough and tough beatdown guy who always knew when you needed to be put in your place, but Marc…Marc knew you.

He knew just how to suck on your neck to get you whining and whimpering in ways that the other two could never dream of. He knew just what to say to make you squirm underneath him, begging for more. He kissed you deeply now, feeling around in your soaking wet panties for your clit, circling over it when he found it. You groaned into his mouth.

“Oh wow, baby, so fuckin’ wet.” He said, sliding a finger into your hole easily. “Can’t believe how soaked you are just for me.”

You arched your back, gasping, “oh, shit, Marc.” You wrapped both arms around his neck.

“Tell me how good that feels, tell me baby…” He begged, desperate for your words of praise.

“It feels so…oh shit…you feel so good.” You kept your eyes locked on his while you said it.

He covered your mouth in bruising kiss after bruising kiss while he shoved another finger into your wet cunt. You tangled your fingers into his curls, reveling in the way his moans deepend under your touch. He was so warm and familiar, no matter how much you hated yourself for giving in to him, you couldn’t deny how wonderful Marc felt while he fingered you.

“I want you…” You said, the desperation in your tone pissed you off, but you didn’t care.

“You do?” He asked in between kisses.

“Yes.” You breathed.

Normally, Marc would get you off twice, once with his mouth, fingers, and one time he got you off with his thigh, and then the second time he would get you off was by fucking you until you couldn’t see straight. Tonight he was so glad to have you there, you could tell by how he acted, that he didn’t second guess your request. He wasn’t going to make you wait to feel him inside of you. You could probably ask him for the moon right now and he’d hand it over to you.

He pulled his fingers from you and immediately stuck them between your lips. His eyes rolled back, Marc loved having his fingers sucked on while he fucked into you. You felt his cock glide to your hole.

“I wanna hear you tell me how my dick feels when I fuck you, baby.” He took his fingers from your mouth to guide himself into your cunt.

Your head flew back, nearly hitting the headboard when he finally thrust himself into you. It took you a moment to come down from the initial wave that jolted through your body. While Steven and Jake were usually fixated on breasts or ass, Marc was stuck with his mouth on your neck, leaving bruising hickeys and forcing pained groans from your lips. You wished he was terrible in bed, at least then you would’ve been able to resist him.

“Tell me baby, say it, please.” Marc was so needy, so desperate for your words, but you weren’t going to give them to him.

“No.” You said in a moan.

He didn’t even look at you, he just kept pushing into you, faster and harder, as though he could fuck the words from your mouth. You liked when Marc got a little rough with you. When Jake was rough, it was methodical, controlled, and intentional; When Marc got rough, he was jagged, unpredictable, and downright messy. He would huff while his skin smacked against yours in repetition, voice becoming more and more wrecked with each thrust.

“You’re gonna play this game, huh?” He lifted his head up and looked at you, lips pressed together tightly, dark brow furrowed.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” You spat back. His hand reached up and gripped your throat. “You gonna start fucking choking me now?”

“As if you need another reason to hate me.” He said between thrusts.

You never expected that more fighting would do you in, that that would be what got you there, but it did. Your body was heating, pooling within your core. You leaned your head back, arched your body upward, you were so close. Then all at once you were empty, Marc pulled out of you, but kept his eyes trained on yours, and his hand around your throat. Asshole.

“Tell me how bad you want it, and maybe I’ll keep going.” He was breathing heavily.

“No.” You whacked his arm away and tried to get up.

You were on the edge of the bed, almost pressing the ball of your foot to the cool wood floor when Marc’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against his chest. Instinctively you’d spread your legs over his knees. His erection was prodding between your folds. You felt his chest rising and falling against your spine. One of his hands pinched your nipple while the other guided his cock back into your cunt.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

From this position he could easily tease your clit while he fucked upward into you. This angle made him feel deeper, like he filled every bit of your channel, all the way until he couldn’t go any further. You rolled your head back over his shoulder. You hated how intimate this position felt, but you loved how it made your entire body burn.

“F-feels good…” You were practically drooling, and when he started sucking on your neck it was even worse.

“I wanna hear you, keep going.” He grunted and groaned while he kept thrusting into your tight, wet hole.

“You…oh shit…you fuck me so good, please don’t stop.” You begged, nearly crying with the need to feel yourself crashing over his girth.

“That’s right, yeah…” He continued circling his fingers over your swollen clit. “You gonna come for me babe?”

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop M-Marc it feels, oh baby it’s so…” It was coming back again, the heat, the tingling that turned you into a ragdoll.

You felt Marc’s thick cock harden inside of you, and you knew he wasn’t going to deny you this time. His arms tightened and his fingertips pinched your nipple almost to an unbearable point of agony. His other fingers didn’t stop circling though, drawing your orgasm out of you in soft circular motions. You were a panting, crying mess while your walls clamped down over him, and he was no different, groaning and grunting into your ear while he shot his hot spend into you.

“Fuck, baby.” He said as he started coming down from his orgasm.

Once you were both done, and your mind was stabilizing once more, you felt nothing but hatred for yourself, and guilt for what the other two may have witnessed from the headspace. You were sure that Jake knew, but you’d hoped that Steven had managed to get some rest. Without looking back at Marc, trying to avoid your shame, you went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. When you looked in the mirror, you were disgusted with the woman looking back. You promised yourself you would never do this, you thought.

When you came back out, Steven was looking back, wearing nothing but his sweats. You sucked in a deep breath, feeling only sorrow. This was it…the point in the road where you had to choose, and you weren’t sure you were strong enough to make that decision, so you were glad when the boys chose for you.

“He…erm…he knows.” Steven said softly. You heard his voice cracking.

“He knows what?” You asked.

“He knows that you have to go, and that you aren’t coming back.” Steven pulled a shirt over his torso. “I’d rather you didn’t go, I’d rather he go but…”

“He can’t.” You helped him finish his sentence.

“Right.” His bottom lip began to quiver.

You knew that the part of Marc that loved you wouldn’t allow for him to completely give up the body while you were present, and therefore the two of you would always be at each other’s throats. You couldn’t have Steven and Jake without Marc, because Marc couldn’t stay away, he just couldn’t, and so you, for your own sake, had to go, and never come back.

“I really am going to miss you, Steven, and Jake.” You walked up and placed a kiss on Steven’s tear stained cheek. “And you too Marc.”

You didn’t turn back around when you left, you didn’t check to make sure that they were ok, you just put your clothes back on, grabbed your keys, and walked out the door. You weren’t sure if your visit to them would have left them saved, or if Marc would continue to spiral and destroy them all, but you couldn’t stay, that much you knew for sure, no matter how much it pained you to go.

You had to do what was best for you for once, even if it nearly killed you.

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts, @in-between-the-cafes

[nerdieforpedro]

Those Damn Hot Dogs

Chapter One of Therapy for the Well-Adjusted

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Word Count: 1859

Warnings: Nerdie doesn’t know how the FBI works (despite watching all the crimes procedurals), one gun shot, insulting hot dogs 🌭, random book reference, a wee bit of blood, yelling & cursing

Summary: Marcus Pike was mandated to go to therapy. His journey there was very bumpy. We meet Dr. Mint and Vernon! (both OFCs)

Notes: I started this because I wanted Marcus to be a bit unhinged. Like why not? 😀

But also because I’ve had some bad experiences with therapy and some very positive ones.

Plus I enjoyed the doctor’s names way too much. I’m on my mess with puns. 😉

If you feel you need therapy or counseling, you should research the best cost effective options for you and make sure that your therapist is someone you feel comfortable with. Vibes are important in this case.

Main Masterlist/ Marcus Pike Masterlist/ AO3 Link

Marcus is talking with his therapist, Dr. Mint. He never thought he would need to see one. Not that people don’t need to see them or take their mental health seriously, they should and he does. He has to. He’s an FBI agent. Although he is in art crimes, there’s still quite a bit of shady characters, deals and crazy crap that people will do to have their art or hide how they got it.

The journey to Dr. Mint took Marcus two months from the incident to now.

The incident in question was something he never expected. Marcus Pike prided himself on being able to roll with life's punches, no matter how gut-wrenching they might be. Prior to ‘the incident’ his team were investigating possible pieces of art that were thought to have been smuggled into the country. Supposedly from California over to the East Coast. That should have been his first clue, the mention of that state. He was briefed about two consultants coming to assist since they had dealings and information of the particular ring of smugglers.

Patrick Jane and his wife Teresa Jane.

The amount of time Marcus had put into this case had been the last few months. Tracking leads, making connections, reviewing financials, flights, etc. He implored his superiors that they didn’t need their help. They’re making headway toward busting these guys without these two, especially one of them’s penchant for causing property damage and being a PR nightmare. The higher ups said that his team had enough time to find these guys and they haven’t so this case needs to be closed now. Pike didn’t understand the urgency, these were typical smugglers, not traffickers or people or drugs, but he had to back down. He would take many deep breaths and interact with them as little as possible.

Of course Patrick Jane asked to be on my team. The vest wearing, tired brown shoes having hot dog water looking bastard.

Agent Pike knew he’d have to grin and bear it. He’s a professional and a special agent. Unlike this prick, he can’t just do as he pleases. There are rules, regulations and he would like to stay gainfully employed at a job he loves. Patrick Jane nor his hot dog water loving wife Teresa will make him lose it.

The first two weeks went fine. Limited interaction, and all about the case. The third week was when they finally caught the smugglers at their warehouse. A mix of Marcus pulling up prior maps of an area outside of DC on the outskirts of the state of Virginia and Patrick seeing a pattern in pieces they were taking. The bust was running smoothly, all of them were caught except one. Marcus was chasing him and the idiot ‘not an actual agent��� Patrick decided he was somehow going to help chase the perp as well in those slippery ugly brown shoes.

It was his own fault.

Not Pike’s. He called in that he saw the suspect, let them know he was in pursuit and was chasing them. It was Jane that called himself trying to be some action hero popping out from a nearby alley to chase the same perp. Pike yelled at him to move, Patrick chose not to listen. His ass paid the price. Literally.

Some might have thought Marcus did it on purpose, especially if they knew the extremely sorted history between Patrick, Teresa and Marcus, but he truly did not. The suspect had pulled a gun and was trying to shoot Marcus, he dodged and shot the perp in the calf, disabling him enough for Pike to run over and clap cuffs on him. He then called for an ambulance.

Pike heard Patrick cursing as he was laying on the ground. Marcus thought maybe he just fell, but there was blood, not from the suspect. Jane was bleeding from his ass, the bullet had grazed him before hitting the suspect. Before Marcus could hold it in, and remain professional he laughed. Not a chuckle or snicker but a full, down on both knees next to the perp laugh. Which made the smuggler laugh as well. Teresa and the other agents made their way over and wondered what an agent and criminal could find so funny. Mrs. Hot Dog became hysterical that Patrick was bleeding so of course he leaned into it, shaking where he hadn’t been before.

Marcus and the suspect watched and looked at each other, “That’s some bullshit my guy.” Pike agreed. Standing up holding the suspect in front of him, he took him over to be booked and processed.

Patrick was taking his sweet time getting off the ground and Teresa was beginning to yell at Marcus, telling him that she’d have his badge for harming her Patrick.

Marcus Pike had enough. He requested to not have them in this case, asked to be reassigned, and has kept interactions to a minimum. He didn’t ask Patrick to chase a suspect. He’s a consultant. He’s not supposed to be doing it anyway!

Uncharacteristically, Marcus yelled and told Teresa to “keep her hot dog water looking man out of the way of FBI business. Had he not been here, the suspect wouldn’t have shot him. Jane needs to stay in his lane and keep all his hot dog foolishness over there.” Teresa was going to say something else, “You don’t say shit to me. You left me then, how am I supposed to know you’re going to do your damn job in the field if you didn’t even have the backbone to tell me no face to face or over the phone. You didn’t ask what actually happened! Put a bun on him to soak up his blood and hot dog water.”

Everyone was silent, even Jane.

No one expected Marcus to say anything, let alone admonishing Patrick and Teresa’s behavior. Everyone knew it was a lot but Pike had been a consummate professional during their entire time here.

Teresa was mortified and started to cry. Jane finally got up and limped over to the supervising agent who just told him to go over to the ambulance to get checked out.

No one directly addressed it, not until the Jane’s were gone and they threw a party. Marcus was invited but he declined. He’d been put out on administrative leave and was at home tuning his bass guitar. Wondering about what they said. They suggested he take some time off, cool his head and could come back after some counseling session.

Marcus had tried to go to the FBI one but it ended on a weird note. The initial meeting went well, but the small older woman asked for a hug. She said that Marcus resembled her former husband. He politely declined and told his supervisors that it wasn’t going to work with the FBI’s counselor.

Pike now had two weeks to find one he could see and clear him. His colleague Mark, suggested one that had helped him and his wife during a rough period in their marriage:

Dr. Mint of “Mint and Julep Counseling: Helping therapy go down smooth.”

The name and the tagline made Marcus chuckle and highly suspicious so he researched them, Mark vouched for the group of counselors and doctors. It’s worth a try. It had to be better than the last one.

Marcus wore his red flannel shirt, open exposing his white t-shirt underneath. Rubbing his hands on his dark wash jeans, getting the sweat off them, he opened the glass door leading into the reception area. The colors were neutral: white, tan, gold and gray. There was a friendly older gentleman at the desk who wore and striking green sweater and had bi-focals, peering at Marcus upward, maybe trying to look through the upper half of the glasses.

“Good afternoon sir, here for an appointment?”

“Yes I am. New patient for Dr. Mint. Marcus Pike. Nice to meet you sir.”

“Oh! You’re early, that’s nice. Wait there. Did you want some water? I’ll let them know you’re here. Should be finishing up with the previous patient shortly.” The gentleman informed him and Marcus took a seat on one of the black leather chairs.

He waited about ten minutes, he’d been fifteen minutes early. It was easier to find than he thought and it was in a stand alone building rather than in a strip mall. It was near a Panera and a Dunkin’s so Marcus had some landmarks for it.

Dr. Mint has sepia bangs which seems to be their natural hair color. The rest of their hair is cut close and is dyed a deep plum color. Normally Marcus might have taken a pause given that they’re also wearing a cream sweater that looks one size too big for them with black slacks and loafers, but they shake his hand and have a strong grip. Pike respects this and follows the good doctor to his office. The agent figures it can’t be worse than the last therapist. Dr. Mint is a few inches taller than Marcus but thin, willowy he might say. Something about him invokes trust, could be their sharp jaw and or that once they sit and Marcus begins talking about what happened with the two hot dogs, he sees something in their dark brown eyes that he didn’t with the other therapists. Dr. Mint didn’t think he’d lost his mind.

Pike’s luck has finally changed.

The doctor thanked Marcus for coming to see them and hoped that he would make a future appointment. They also stated that given the pressure he was under and the specific circumstances, they weren’t sure there was a right way to approach the situation.

“I mean, it is kinda funny. If you think about it, Dr. Mint.” Marcus departs their office and makes an appointment for later in the week with Vernon, the front desk gentleman. On his way out, he held the door for a woman in a cobalt dress, she thanked him and smiled. Pike felt his eyes linger on her for a few moments as she went to the desk and checked in with Vernon too. She sat down, crossing her legs at her ankles after setting her black tote back in a chair next to her. She was on her phone for a few and then pulled her bag into her lap, making herself smaller despite the waiting room being empty save for the man behind the desk.

Marcus wondered what brought her to this place, it could be anything. Her blue dress stuck out in his mind and he remembered there was a book about a woman in a blue dress, what was it called? He stopped to grab a salad and soup from Panera before heading home.

“Wait…” Marcus pulled into his parking space outside of his apartment building. “Devil in the blue dress, I think it’s by Walter Mosley. Wasn’t that a movie too? Maybe I should watch it tonight.” As tonight’s feature was decided, he set about trying to find which streaming service it would be on.

Marcus felt he made a good choice today.

Hot dog haters 🌭: @megamindsecretlair @jessthebaker @avastrasposts @jeewrites @josephquinnswhore

@bishtrouille @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @morallyinept @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @rosecentaur1916 @rulexofxnines @inept-the-magnificent

Chapter Two

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 To celebrate here is a romantic relationship reading for yall! Be aware that these are read with queer people in mind. ALSO THIS IS AN 18+ READING. If you are younger than 18 please do not interact. THANK YOU. Love is love baby and I will not tolerate hatred here. Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, my friends. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤎🤍🩵🩷

PILE 1

Crystal: Green Aventurine

Astrology: Cancer, Leo, Capricorn

Character: Keroppi

Song: Red Wine Supernova by Chappel Roan/ SUNRISE by MICHELLE

Vibes: 💚❤️🍷🧝👒🪖🍒🐸🥀🍄🍏🍉🍑🐛🪲🐢🐍🍎🦖🦎🪴🥊🚗🌴🎍🍀🍃🎋🪷🍓🌶️🍝🥒🥑🥬🫑🥦🫛🌹🥗🧃

Ribbit! Hiiiii pile one <3 I see you really think this person is cool. You have so much fun with them. The most fun you have had with someone in a while. The seggs is absolutely amazing with them. They can go hard and long just like you like it. They like to try new stuff with you too. New toys and new positions are brought up everytime you guys get together. I also see they are excellent dirty-talker. You are starstruck by him. This connection is awesome but I think it might be a shorter connection than you like. They want intimacy with you and they want to be your friend. From your perspective you think they want more than that. Make sure you are on the same page with this person on what they want and make sure that what you want matches with them. When I say that I mean really honestly on the same page. You can’t change yourself for them. Don’t ignore your feelings just to make them happy. You might need more romance than they can offer. If they can’t provide the romance or reliability you need then the connection you have with him doesn’t have to be severed but it does need reevaluation. Just understand it won’t go any farther than friends with benefits. Don’t ask him to change either. Both of you deserve love in the ways you need it. He needs less romance than you do but that doesn’t make your needs less important. You can always stay friends or keep a friends-with-benefits thing going until you find a partner that can give you the romantic energy you need. I do see them being weirdly jealous sometimes though. That is not them telling you they have feelings for you. They're just territorial about who they fuck with. They have very animalistic energy. Which is why I implore you to have conversations about how you both feel regularly just to make sure yall stay on the same page. I wish you luck on your sexellent sexapades, my friend. 💙🩵🤍💚💙

PILE 2

Crystal: Carnelian

Astrology: Sagittarius, Pisces

Character: Hello Kitty

Song: I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) by Disney / Rocket Ship by Nep

Vibes: 🦑��🦊🐞🍁🔥☄️🍑🍊🍅🥕🥧🌭🍕🏀🏈⛹🏽‍♀️🥉🚀⛺️🏺🧱🧡💛💥🥻🧑‍🦰🎃🥵🤯📳📙💊🏮🌇⛱️⛵️

Hello, kitty! Welcome to your reading pile two. You are waiting on this person. They are getting their head figured out. I see they are in therapy. They do have feelings for you right now buuut they just don’t realize it yet. Once they realize it though. Oh. My. Goodness. It will be MAGICAL. Ya just gotta be patient with them okay? I see you are extremely practical so you probably aren’t the type to sleep around or keep things casual. You want a future with this person. I see some of ya’ll reading have been in a relationship with this person for a while but they haven’t really been taking it seriously. Some of you have just been texting with this person and are unofficial. Don’t worry. Let them take the time they need to figure out their feelings. I see you both have a lot of feminine energy and remember feminine energy is still, so it might take your future spouse some time to figure out how much you make them happy. They don’t seem very intune with their feelings lmao. Once you are official? You will be ICONIC. People might be jealous of what you will have with them so it is so worth the wait, my friend. You’ll have matching everything by the way. You might already do that by accident with them. Matching clothes, matching shoes, matching tattoos, matching bags, matching water bottles like it is going to be pinterest worthy relationship goals. You might also say a lot of stuff at the same time by accident too. Wow. Yall are so cool I can’t stand it. I hope they figure out their feelings for you soon so you can get to slaying. ❤️🧡🤍💗🩷

PILE 3

Crystal: Angelite

Astrology: Aquarius, Scorpio

Character: Cinnamoroll

Song: Poison by Sam Haft

Vibes: 🩵🥺🩷😇💛🖤🎀✏️💎🚬😭🧠⛓️🧞‍♀️💑🧳✈️🥃🍯🛼🧊😱❄️🕳️💣⛈️🪷🦩🦋🪱🤡🐝🩱👻⚔️👑👛👚😰🔭🪬🧿

Bark Bark!! Hello, pile threee! Gonna be for real for a sec. You are kind of a mess and this reading is pretty hard to hear. I see you are stuck in a relationship with someone. Luckily this reading isn’t about that partner. They can go suck eggs for all I care. They turned you into this mess. You apologize to them when they hurt YOUR feelings. That’s ick. Why do they gotta make you do that, huh? They make you pretend to be someone you arent! Anywho you should leave them. Like seriously leave them. I know it’s scary! I PROMISE DUDE. I know from personal experience. Leave. As soon as you leave. This new person will come in after a couple months. You might thiiink the person you’re with right now is your twin flame. That is not true dude. There is this term called a false twin flame. I had to go through that whole process too. It is not fun. The reason you are going through this is because you canNOT stick around this ASSHOLE just because you are afraid of being alone! Cutting off the dead rose will allow another rose to bloom. You have tried to fix the mess of a partner you are with. It hasn’t worked. You can’t make someone better who doesn’t want to be better. Yeah I said it! They don’t want to get better! That's why they refuse to do therapy. That's why they won’t change for you. I learned this a while ago. Some people just like to hurt. They like to be the victim. However, there is good news. You can leave. Take your power back and you will be rewarded with the rainbow after the storm. You are an angel and you deserve another angel. You will get one, sweetpea. The nicest angel they have. When you meet them you will know it is them because they will be wearing SO much BLUE. They're a hopeless romantic just like you, hun. They’ll worship you and the ground you walk on. So much you won’t know what to do. You might cry when you realize they aren’t gonna hurt you the way you are currently being hurt. Baby, I’m really begging you to trust the universe will send you the best reward for doing right by you. I know you can do it. You are so much more than how your current person makes you feel. 🩷💛🩵/🖤💛🤍💜

PILE 4

Crystal: Iolite

Astrology: Aries, Taurus, Libra

Character: Kuromi

Song: Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl by Chappel Roan/ Short Skirt-Long Jacket by Jet

Vibes: 💜🖤☕️💛🔮🧬🎆🎼🎹♟️📒🏵️🔌🥇🍆💻🍇🍙🐈‍⬛🦮🕷️🕶️👽👾😈🔪🦹💅🏽👯🗝️✒️💣

>:3 HI, PILE FOUR! I have the best news my friend! THIS READING IS SO INTERSTELLAR! The emperor and the empress ruling together! The emperor in this reading is a lil scared though. Understandable to be honest. He has been burned real bad in the past. He doesn’t have to worry anymore. All the painful relationships are behind him. He can relax into this connection. The empress is this reading is loyal, fair and very protective. When I say fair I do mean both definitions. She is Just and also drop dead gorgeous. She might be kind of scary at times but she loves the emperor and would beat up anyone who messed with him. She wears a lot of alternative fashion. She seems goth to me but it could also be punk rock or emo. She likes to garden and she has a cat. I imagine the cat's name is “shadow” or something? I see the emperor wearing alternative fashion as well but softer styles like cottagecore or clowncore. He is also quite stubborn. He is so headstrong about stuff because he had been a pushover for a long time and now he refuses to be pushed around. I dunno if they're both trans but since it's pride month I’m gonna say they're both transgender. 🏳️‍⚧️ I see you meeting the other in a park or bumping into each other at pride. There is nothing to fear with this connection. It is balanced, loving and you motivate each other deeply to go after what you both desire most. OH ALSO your seggs life will be AMAAAAAZING cus you are both switches. You also both listen to each other's needs when in the bedroom. I am so happy for the both of you. You deserve each other. 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

PILE 5

Crystal: Citrine

Astrology: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius

Character: My Melody

Song: Too Sweet by Hozier

Vibes: 💝😜🙀👄💑👙⚜️🔐👛👑🐱🐙🌷🌸��🌼💐☀️🍌🍉🎟️🥎🩰💰⚱️🔑🎊🎀🛍️📣🐌

:3c Hi pile 5! Welcome to this reading! When I was pulling cards for today's reading I very much decided to do a fifth pile last minute. Which leads me to believe you don't see the love interest as a possibility right now. You think they are out of your league and you are trying soooo hard not to pine over them. I'm going to try to give you a clue of who this is because I see it being kind of hard for you to accept it when you figure it out. I hear you saying “Noooooo it couldn’t be them!” and yet they still linger on your mind. You think about them a lot. They are quite stoic and don’t really wear their emotions on their sleeves. This is the opposite of you. You refer to them as your Moon to your Sun. They could be any water sign (cancer, pisces, scorpio). They like to wear patterned clothes with really small patterns. You can't quite tell what they are until you get up close. This might be on purpose cus they like it when you are close to them hehe. From your perspective they seem really responsible and well off. Sometimes you compare yourself to them and it makes you feel like you aren’t doing stuff right. I promise you are doing things right by the way. You just have more on your plate than your future partner does. I see you have a lot of trauma you have been working through on top of the regular everyday stuff. When you are with them you feel complete and whole. They fill in the spaces that you struggle keeping balanced on your own. I see you playing video games or board games together. So cute ^w^! However I see they probably are in a situationship right now. Someone is leading them on and they have been for a while. Someone kind of corvid like keeps them occupied and it’s been harder and harder to see them as often as you used to. That situationship won’t last. If you want to intervene on it, I see that is a possibility that might help you get closer with them. Ask them about their love life and be curious. Just remember to play the long game when approaching them about this corvid-like person. The corvid is playing the short game. Slow and steady wins the race. 🩷💜💙

[violetsaffron5]

Dirty Little Secret (2)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • ← Chapter 1

↳ 2 | Confessions

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Both you and Satoru have been keeping secrets.

words: 7.1k

cw: restraints, edging, vaginal fingering, oral, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, cum play, praise kink, pregnancy sex

an: thank you to everyone who has read this little two-shot, especially those who have liked, reblogged and left comments. Those seriously keep me going. I'm not always able to reply to them, but I do read all of them and love them, so thank you!

The boutique store bell dings loudly as you run your hand through several silk dresses looking for a new one to wear when you see Satoru again.

You sigh as you walk around the store, listening to the quiet, barely audible music playing on the overhead speakers. You stop to look at a simple black dress with a cinched waist, visualizing the way it would accentuate your curves before grabbing it off the rack to try on.

Satoru hasn’t been around the last few weeks after his wife showed up at the hotel looking for him because he had missed their therapy appointment.

Every time someone would come to the club with a similar shade of hair, wearing sunglasses or you’d hear a boisterous laugh from across the building, your hopes would instantly rise - that it would be Satoru back to watch you dance and whisk you away for the night.

It hasn’t happened. You’d gone home disappointed every night you’ve worked.

“Excuse me,” a soft, tender voice rings through the air at the front of the store, “can you tell me where you keep your…”

The voice sounds familiar like you’ve heard it before, in a different tone, but you’re unable to place it until you round the corner of the aisle you’re in and spot her.

She looks the same as the last time you saw her, a spitting image from your nightmares manifested in real life to torture you for the sins you’ve committed with her husband.

The picture of perfection: long raven hair in loose curls, high-waisted gray pencil skirt, white top, and cropped jacket. She has black heels on which make her slender legs look even more elegant and long, accentuating her height as she talks to the store attendant.

You’re frozen in place, just staring as your heart beats so frantically in your chest that you feel like it could jump out and explode onto the tile of this tiny boutique.

And then the overhead bell dings again, almost silently due to ringing in your ears and thoughts racing through your mind until you see a head of unmistakable white hair walking towards the woman.

Get out.

That’s the only thing you can think as you take a few short, shallow breaths and look at the garment in your hands with a furrowed brow.

It’s so pretty, and you were going to purchase it but now you just need to put it back and leave as quickly as possible.

As you try to calmly walk down the aisle on wobbly legs, back to where you grabbed the dress you find yourself wishing you had superhuman abilities. Preferably one where you could turn invisible or even warp away and end up anywhere in the world, just so you don’t have to be in this situation right now.

“Shit! I’m so, so sorry,” you frantically yelp when you turn the corner, ready to shove the dress onto any rack and sprint out of the store because you’ve just run into Satoru’s wife.

And not only that, you made her spill her coffee all over her well-pressed, tailored outfit.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you place a hand over your stomach, taking a deep breath, silently talking yourself into not vomiting on her as well.

You’re expecting the worst. Who wouldn’t?

Either she’s going to recognize you from the hotel or Satoru has been working on their marriage, going to counseling like she wanted and that’s why you haven’t seen him in almost a month.

She’s going to know who you are, splash the remnants of her coffee all over you in retaliation, or worse.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she places a gentle hand on your upper arm and gives a sincere smile before shifting into a look of concern, “Sweetie, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

There’s a horrible feeling at the pit of your stomach when Satoru walks up from behind his wife, placing his hand on the small of her back lovingly.

His eyes are unimpeded by his glasses, shining brighter and more crystalline than the prettiest of oceans. They sparkle as he looks down at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like it’s some divine justice to find you here talking with his wife.

“Satoru, honey, can you be a dear and pay for her dress? I don’t want to cause her any more trouble.”

“You got it.” He retorts cooly before leaning down to place a peck on her lip causing the butterflies in your stomach to scratch and claw. 

You could have handled her being a bitch. Being called every name under the sun if she knew who you were, which she clearly doesn’t. But being nice, and sweet is so much worse.

She doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing behind her back.

“No, that’s okay,” you manage to croak out finally, “I was going to put it up anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Satoru cuts in, “I bet this will look great on you. Besides, it looks like you’re having a strange day.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, “Yeah, you could say that.”

His wife cocks her head to the side smiling before turning, leading the way to the register upfront, before curiously stating, “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

You begin to answer, an automatic response whenever anyone says they recognize you, “Oh, I dance at-”

“The dance studio.” Satoru interrupts, “She’s a dance instructor.”

“Uhm. Yup. Some would say that.”

She furrows her brows, looking between the two of you before Satoru speaks again, “Don’t you remember? She was one of the instructors for the kids.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” his wife says with a heavy sigh, and a soft laugh, “I didn’t recognize you out and about.”

“No! No, that’s alright,” you smile weakly, confused, “it’s been… a few years since I’ve worked with them, I guess.”

You make uncomfortable small talk with Satoru’s wife, shifting on your feet, trying to quell your stomach while Satoru talks to the man behind the counter, seemingly about anything under the sun, just to take as much time as he can.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the shop attendant finally hands Satoru the bag your dress has been placed in, along with a receipt before he then turns on his heels, handing it to you, letting the tips of your fingers graze over one another in the process.

“Um, thank you. I’ll… see you around?”

It’s a question for Satoru and you know he’s aware, watching the way you bite your bottom lip waiting for his reply as his wife offers a kind, “of course,” before patting Satoru’s arm and walking away.

“Perhaps,” is all he says in response to you, looking you up and down before turning around to follow his wife.

The club is loud tonight, with more bass-heavy music playing than you would typically choose to have during your sets. The lights are the same; dark around the bar and club with colored spotlights on the stage for the performances.

You haven’t danced in over a month. Feeling sick on an almost nightly basis has caused you to move from centerstage off to the side. Now, rather than taking your clothes off, you’re pouring shots and mixed drinks for tips instead.

Satoru hasn’t been in.

In fact, you haven’t seen him since the day he bought the dress you’re currently wearing.

Whenever you’re missing him more than you care to admit, you find yourself wearing this dress or — if you’re not working — the black Versace sweatshirt you stole from him. The sweatshirt is your favorite token of the times you shared.

Because it’s comfortable and oversized and you look in it while you lazily lie on the couch eating too many snacks. Not that your growing belly seems to mind.

“Oh, my god. Sukuna’s here!” Uraume squeals next to you, causing Manami to poke her head in from the back, immediately searching for Suguru. You turn your back to the bar leaning against it.

No point in looking out in the club for Satoru. You know he’s not here. He never is anymore.

Even though Satoru hasn’t come in, his friends have. And you watch as they throw their money down the drain in bottles and bottles of alcohol, whisking away one or several of the dancers, bartenders, or patrons.

And on those nights you can’t help but wish you were still able to spend time with them. But they don’t pay you any mind, and you don’t ask about Satoru. It’s like you’ve never spent time with them outside of the club.

And that level of rejection stings.

“Uraume, I heard Sukuna say he wants to spend some time with you,” you mention offhandedly, folding your arms across your chest, tilting your head in their direction, and flashing your eyebrows.

They waste no time in grabbing a few of the finest bottles the club has to offer before scurrying off in his direction. You snicker to yourself before Manami pouts, telling you how to mean you are while nodding your head toward a customer that’s just sat at the bar.

You’re met with clear blue eyes when you turn around. Eyes you’ve missed, eyes that have always looked like they can see into your soul and wants to devour you whole if you let them, “Who the fuck was that?”

“Uhm, they’ve seen Sukuna around and have a little bit of a crush- why are you here?”

You’re nervous and fidgety and the glass you’ve picked up to pour a drink feels as if it will fall out of your hands at any moment due to your sweaty palms.

And now, more than ever, you wish you could pour yourself a shot. Or rather drink straight from the bottle and pretend Satoru isn’t sitting in front of you.

Your cheeks heat at the sight of him. He’s always looked good, even more so tonight with his black button-down and black slacks, no shades hiding his gorgeous azure orbs from the world, and white hair strategically messy, hanging over his forehead.

Your heart aches, wanting to reach out and touch Satoru’s hand. To sit in his lap and kiss his lips, to taste the spearmint on his tongue that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you don’t miss.

The good and the bad. You’ve been through both with Satoru.

Now, the unexpected.

“Hear you’re pregnant.”

His voice is clipped with annoyance, eyes wandering your frame as you turn away from him to grab a few bottles. He doesn’t have to order anything, you know what he wants anyway.

“That’s none of your business after you fucking ghosted me.”

“Wanna know how I heard?” He muses, picking up the glass you slide across the bar in his direction before taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

“I don’t care.”

“I got a very interesting phone call this morning that someone leaked it to the press for a lot of money,” he continues anyway and your face could melt from the hole he’s burning in the center of your fucking eyes right now, “you told someone about us.”

You stare back, heart racing, but you don’t have any words to defend yourself. Everyone at the club has been made aware of your… circumstances, and why you switched from dancing to bartending.

But only one person was able to piece it together with a devilish grin, promising to keep your secret. 

Your manager, Mei. 

She watched, day in and day out as Satoru would come in, pay mass amounts of money for your company and take you away with him when he left.

If anyone else had been paying as much attention as her, they would have been able to figure it out too.

“Breaking your NDA,” he continues, swirling the liquid in his cup before taking another swig, “not a smart move. You know, I can sue your ass into the ground for defamation, take everything from you. You and your kid won’t have a home, let alone a leg to stand on. You’ll have to continue being a whore to make ends meet.”

You stare at him, tears threatening to escape the corner of your eye as he stares back, unwavering, emotionless. Your blood is boiling. Pissed that he would come in, in front of everyone, and talk to you this way.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He always has been, but never to you, not like this. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Seems like you weren’t going to bother telling me at all.”

“Did you expect me to just call you up? Say ‘Hey, by the way, I know we’ve been fucking for the last year but now I’m pregnant, surprise!’ while you’re standing next to your wife?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Satoru seethes through clenched teeth as another patron comes to the bar, raising an eyebrow at your obviously shaken demeanor.

You grab the towel on the counter, wiping a few spots where alcohol had splashed while making Satoru’s drink, hands shaking as you choke back a sob, refusing to look at Satoru or the other guests.

“Can I get a-”

“I can’t do this right now,” you interject, shoving the towel in Manami’s hands as she comes up from the back, “I’m going on break.”

You stand, outside, against the brick wall of the club in a dirty ally taking several deep breaths, head tilted back, eyes closed, as you focus on your breathing.

The pregnancy was a shock. You and Satoru had only been together one time, unprotected, and fate decided to play the cruelest of jokes on you.

You cried when you found out. Debated on calling Satoru, unsure of what to do. You’re still not entirely sure what you want to do.

You’re still in the first trimester, so you have plenty of options, though none of them seem all that appealing.

Kids were something you always saw yourself with. Way, way, in the future.

And not from this sort of situation. You had always hoped to be more settled, calmed down, and less wild than you are now, having wanted to live your life to the absolute fullest before bringing life into the world.

But sometimes life has other plans. And now all you can do is move forward and figure out your next move.

The door from the back entrance creeks open, and you know who it is without having to turn your head or open your eyes.

There is one thought that’s been in the back of your mind, should you ever see Satoru again, should he ever find out;

“You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to be involved in any way.” Your voice is quiet, dejected, “I’ll deny the claims to the press,” You open your eyes, watching him from the corner, “I’m not even sure if I want to keep it.”

He nods his head slowly, hands in his pocket, expression almost sad at your announcement, “Maybe we should talk this through before either of us makes any rash decisions.”

The car ride is quiet, and tense, as Satoru takes you to an apartment complex near Shibuya.

It’s not uncommon for him to take you to places you don’t recognize, but you’re more nervous tonight than any other, unsure of what’s going to happen.

You’ve never seen him this mad before.

He doesn’t bother opening the door for you, opting instead to quickly get out of his luxurious car and begin walking to the lobby from the underground parking garage you’re in, expecting you to follow suit.

And you do, diligently, quietly.

Your heels click on the marble flooring, echoing through the silent lobby as you watch Satoru nod his head toward the concierge before stopping at the elevator.

Satoru swipes a card before pressing a button for the penthouse. The ride to the top is the same as the ride here; tense, terse, and the air is thick with anger and words left unsaid.

The elevator opens at a small lobby, with one door directly in front of it where Satoru swipes his card again before opening it. Expecting you to follow him inside.

And once you’re there, your back is immediately pressed against the door, Satoru’s lips on yours in a wild, frenzied, yet passionate kiss.

The kind of kiss where your teeth scrape together, where you wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft tresses as he kisses down your neck before licking a strip up from your chest to cheek.

“Satoru…” it’s not a complaint, even if you meant it to be one.

Having him here and now, in your arms once again, something you didn’t think was going to happen is more than you could have asked for.

Satoru presses his body weight against you, pushing you harder into the door before lifting you by your thighs, and carrying you out of the foyer.

After a few turns, you’re laid gently on a soft surface, Satoru climbing over you as your tongues continue to meld together, until he eventually pulls away, thumb tracing the outline of your now kiss-swollen lips.

“Stay here.” He demands, before getting off the bed and walking to a door on the other side of the room you’re in.

It’s an overly large bedroom with two nightstands on either side of the oversized bed, a dresser across with a mirror to the side of the bed, and modern paintings akin to something an interior decorator would select.

But it’s also filled with objects you recognize. A stand filled with the little black sunglasses he likes to wear at night, a hamper next to the dresser, overflowing with soft black tee shirts he likes to wear under his button-ups.

“Move to the top of the bed.” You're startled from looking around when Satoru emerges, but do as he’s said, resting your head against the softest pillows you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on. Like little clouds brought down from the highest points in the sky, just for you.

He sheds his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the hamper you saw earlier, before undoing his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clatter before crawling onto the bed, eclipsing your body with a nefarious smirk.

Satoru presses his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss, like you’ve never experienced from him before. Your lips move in tandem, tongues tangling together as you relax, melting into the way his large hands slide down the length of yours while straddling your hips.

He smirks when you let out a breathy sigh before raising both your arms above your head, crossing your wrists, and using a soft white fabric to tie them to the bedframe.

You watch with big doe eyes as he tests the knots he’s created, making sure they’re not going to break loose before looking at you with softer eyes than you’ve seen all night, maybe ever. Satoru studies your face, eyes flickering across your features before his gaze shifts down.

“Pretty dress,” he pulls on the shoulder strap letting it snap against your skin when he lets go, “is this the one you were buying when you spilled coffee on my wife?”

Your brows furrow, realizing just how helpless you are in this position before swallowing thickly, answering quietly, “Y-Yes.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, fingertips gliding over the skin of your chest causing goosebumps to form before grabbing the thin silk fabric at your breasts-

“What-”

He rips the fabric open, exposing your bare chest.

“A- ”

Another tug and the fabric rips down to your navel.

“Shame.”

Your chest is heaving, tits rising and falling in anticipation, wondering what he’s going to do next.

You’d be upset that he just ripped an incredibly expensive dress if there wasn’t a fire burning in your core, desire running rampant, waiting for him to touch you in all the ways you’ve been dying for the last few months.

Satoru leans over you, pulling out a silk black fabric from his pocket, gently sliding it over your head to cover your eyes. It’s so dark you can’t see a thing out of it and it fits so snugly there are no cracks to make out any light.

You turn your head a few times, trying to find an angle that lets you see something but it’s useless. 

Satoru sighs, content while sucking a few small marks on your neck before nipping and licking his way to your breast, slipping a nipple in his mouth while palming the other.

Your back arches off the bed, wrists tugging on the smooth fabric tied around your wrists as he pinches and tweaks each nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently tugging on the other with his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, thrusting your hips up to try and meet his, to find stimulation while he’s rolling his fingers and tongue over your hardened buds.

He chuckles, watching how you shamelessly squirm beneath him in pleasure, cock straining in his slacks from the sight.

Satoru loves seeing you like this. All needy and helpless, waiting for you to inevitably beg him to fuck you. And he will. But not yet.

You don’t deserve it yet.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when he lets go of your breast with a pop, squeezing the other before letting his hands roam to your waist and hips, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses in his wake, dipping his tongue in your belly button.

You lift your hips when he moves the fabric upwards, making it easier to allow the dress to pool at your waist, exposing the unreal wet spot that has formed at the center of your panties, soaking them.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs more to himself than you, palming his hard cock through his briefs at the sight before massaging the plush skin of your thighs, lowering himself between them.

“Fuck, Satoru!” You cry out when he gives an experimental lick up the center of your panties, leaving a too-soft, too-gentle kiss right on your neglected clit before moving to kiss and lick your thighs.

You want nothing more than to have at least one of your hands free to thread through his soft white hair, keeping him at your center to extinguish the flames that are swallowing you whole right now.

You attempt to close your legs around his head in sheer neediness, but Satoru pushes your thighs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” He commands, forcing a loud whine to leave your lips.

“Satoru, please, I need you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, snapping the band of your panties to expose your glistening pussy to him. He licks his lips at the sight, running two thick fingers through your slippery folds.

“Oh god,” you moan out, much to his amusement, rutting your hips in a poor attempt at keeping the slightest amount of stimulation he just gave.

“Need me here, baby?” He asks condescendingly, watching you through his long, thick snowy lashes as you gasp, feeling his tongue run up your center, “fuck, you taste so good.”

“Please-pleasepleaseplease,” you’re begging while he teases, letting his tongue explore every part of your newfound sensitivity.

And then he just stops.

You try your best to look around, unable to see anything still but you can feel the smirk that’s spread across his face right now against you.

“Satoru,” you’re whiney, needy and you want to keep rutting your hips to fuck yourself on his tongue but he’s moved his hands to your hips, halting any movement. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps your legs spread wide open and hands cemented on your hips to keep you from moving.

“Satoru… please, please fuck me, baby, please.”

Normally that would work, begging for him to make you cum, but not tonight.

Satoru laughs into you, the vibrations from his voice shooting to the tips of your fingers to your toes, causing them to curl.

He’s teased you before, but tonight is different, more cruel. He’s still pissed and he’s making it known with the way he won’t let you have any stimulation.

“Please… I need you,” you pant out in desperation, voice so deliriously needy you don’t have any time to be embarrassed about how badly you want him, need him right now.

He perks at the trembling of your voice, watching as you lay your head back on the pillow in defeat and he laughs. Hot breath fanning your core before he enthusiastically licks along your folds, letting go of your hips to sink two fingers into your cunt, easily finding your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he focuses on rapidly flicking his tongue across your clit until you’re moaning all staccato and pretty for him, pulling on the restraints hard as you shatter onto his hand when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

He works you through your release, watching you shiver and tremble, walls fluttering so delicately around his fingers. He’s losing his patience, losing his will to keep himself from you any longer.

When you come down from your high, head lolled to the side, Satoru pulls the blindfold off to reveal a devious glint in his eye.

“Is it mine?” He asks suddenly.

“I-What?”

“The baby. Is it mine?”

It’s something that’s been nagging at him since he found out you were pregnant.

Sure, when he asked last time you were together, you told him you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him, and that made him happier than it should have at the time.

Now he needs to know if everything he’s done over the last few months has been worth it. That his absence from you has been worth it.

“Yes-yes, it’s only been you, baby. Only you.” The corners of your eyes are wet, tears having escaped with nowhere to go with the blindfold on, “the baby’s yours.”

Satoru’s cock twitches and jumps at your confirmation, unable to keep himself from you any longer, so he leans down and licks up your cheek to the corner of your eye before pressing a tender kiss to your lid.

“Satoru, can I-” you tug on the silky white ropes still binding you to the headboard, “I need to touch you.”

As soon as Satoru unties the knots, your hands are cupping his face as you hastily kiss him, letting your hands linger on his broad shoulders, down to his chest and hard abdominals.

When he pulls away, you latch yourself to him, sitting up as he sits back on the balls of his feet, never breaking the kiss. Your hands easily find the waistband to his briefs, sliding them down to free his hard length.

He groans in relief as soon as you grab his cock, tip red and sticky with precum as you use your thumb to spread it down his length, pumping several times as helps you out of the tattered remains of your dress. 

Satoru grabs your hips, tugging towards the middle of the bed so he can line his cock with your entrance, running the tip through your soaked folds several times before rubbing his sensitive tip in small circles on your clit.

He’d tease you until the end of time and space just to watch the way you writhe under his touch in desperate desire and anticipation.

But he’s not that patient today, not after not being able to have you for so long.

“Fuck-holy fucking shit-” he groans, throwing his head back as he presses his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “you’re good, so, so good to me, baby.”

Your back is arched off the bed as he fully seats himself inside you, running his hands along your breasts and waist, stopping at your stomach, staring almost longingly.

Satoru helps adjust your legs over each shoulder, locking your ankles behind his head as he immediately starts pumping into you at an unrelenting pace.

You feel nothing but Satoru as he leans down, pressing your knees to either side of your head, kissing you feverishly as he sucks small bruises onto the smooth columns of your throat, at that spot just under your ear that always makes you sigh.

“Right there, keep going,” You beg as your walls tighten around his cock like a noose, soft walls sucking him in, begging him to stay.

He would. He’d live inside you for all eternity if you’d let him.

Satoru brings his hand to the base of your neck, squeezing slightly, “I fucking love you. I really fucking do.”

Your brows furrow, gasping out a surprised moan, watching him with upturned brows at his confession, one you had convinced yourself wasn’t real, one that was due to drugs and sex.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Satoru, I-I,” You’re stammering, trying to find the words.

This isn’t something you’ve ever planned on saying, a feeling you’ve been trying to keep buried in the darkest pits of your heart, trapped away in a tiny box that you’d throw into the ocean and never see again if you could.

This is too much, he’s too much, but you can’t keep running from the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long.

“I do, baby -oh, my god- I love you,” Your hands are tugging him closer so your lips meet fervently as his hips continue to wildly piston into you.

It’s angelic to him, the sound of your voice, your confession. Everything you do, so opposite of him but allowing him to corrupt you in unimaginable ways, sinfully so.

“Say my name, tell everyone.” He growls into your ear, slamming his hips into yours impossibly harder.

“Satoru, S’toru, S’toru” you chant deliriously, over and over again as he thrusts his hips until your orgasm rips through you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you.

He makes you cum so many times it’s impossible to keep track, and he’s lost count too, but he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

“Cum again, baby,” he tangles his hand into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you to look up at him, “you can do it, you’re such a good girl, so pretty - cum on my cock.”

There’s not much you can do but listen, walls spasming, legs shaking, back arching off the bed until your soft breasts meet his chest. He kisses you again, spitting into your mouth, moaning against him as his tongue plays with yours.

He thrusts for a few moments that feel like an eternity, gripping your hair so hard you’re convinced he might rip it out until he cums so hard he’s positive he would have gotten you pregnant if you already weren't.

Satoru watches your chest heave, tits rising and falling so beautifully with each breath you take before he sucks in a breath, nuzzling into your neck and pulling out with a wince.

He’s shameless, so he watches the way his seed spills out of you, drips down your ass, and onto the sheets of his bed.

He chuckles when you shutter, pulling your hips away from him due to over-sensitivity when he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping two inside you to coat them in his release before shoving them to the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Good girl,” he whispers while you roll your tongue over his digits the best you can, sucking on them as he pulls them out of your mouth with a soft pop.

You lay your head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and a goofy grin on your face. He lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss you, letting his tongue explore every crevice, tasting himself on your tongue while helping you roll to your side as he slides in behind you.

“Look at you,” Satoru whispers, blue gaze looking at the way your bodies lay together in the mirror across the bed, fingers nibbly tracing your belly, drawing several small infinity symbols, lost in thought, “Gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment while you stare back at him, watching the way he nuzzles into your hair, and kisses your neck and shoulder gently.

“I want you to keep it. I want to see you glowing,” he mutters quietly, “so big and round, full of me.”

You take a deep breath, looking away from the mirror before letting out a low, self-deprecating laugh because this isn’t a good thing, is it? You’re newly pregnant with a married man’s child.

There’s no way this is going to end well.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, confused when you pull away from his grasp, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“To pee. The last thing I need right now is a UTI.”

He hums, rolling over onto his back pointing in the direction of the attached bathroom, shamelessly watching the way your hips sway before you close the door.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking over your features.

Nothing looks different. You still look like the same person you were three months ago, albeit a little more tired.

You’ll have to find a new norm. With Satoru… his wife and two other children. All of them will thoroughly hate you when they find out.

Which is absolutely inevitable judging by how excited Satoru seems to be.

The only mild saving grace is they’ll probably hate him as well. But you don’t want that. Not really.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes. Not those of love or pleasure but of confusion.

Confusion about the direction your life is heading and what you’re supposed to do now. Satoru is married, with a family of his own. He doesn’t owe you anything. After all, he was just a client you let yourself get carried away with.

Will you be a single mother? Will his other children hate you and your child? Will they want to be involved in their life growing up, will you even want them to be?

These are a few of the questions that race through your mind, but there are so many more, and none to be answered tonight.

You wipe your face with your hands, turning away from the mirror as several tears stream down your cheek. These hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, you can already tell.

After using the restroom, you splash cool water on your face, trying your best to hide the evidence of the tears that escaped.

Satoru’s quiet when you re-emerge, eyes flickering between yours as he hands you a velvety, white robe to cover yourself in. It’s oversized, likely his, but rather than using it he opts to stay shirtless with baggy grey sweats.

He gives you space, noticing the red rings around your eyes, letting you look around his apartment at your leisure. You don’t go far, not wanting to overstay your welcome, especially since you just fucked your late-night lover on his marital bed.

The thought makes your stomach churn.

Walking down the hall from his bedroom to his living room, you take your time looking at the few personal photos that hang on the wall. All of his children.

His son is clearly the oldest, with dark black hair, a spitting image of his mother while his younger daughter looks like she could be Satoru’s twin with matching snow-driven hair. They both were lucky enough to inherit his crystalline eyes.

They’ll both grow up to be little charmers, just like their father.

You notice two things as you make your way from the hall to the living room, continuing to look around your surroundings.

One, all of the decor and furniture, looks like it belongs in a catalog. It’s modern but doesn’t give a homey feel. Like it’s been primarily unused.

And second, in every photo you’ve found, his wife isn’t present in any of them.

“Satoru. Where are we?”

It’s obviously his penthouse, but it looks like it hasn’t been lived in, ever. An open concept with the kitchen and living room divided by a small half wall, the kitchen is filled with the newest appliances one could ever hope and dream of having.

One of the walls in the living room is all floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the most gorgeous view of Shibuya you’ve ever seen, the city lights bright, still roaring to life in the dead of night.

You watch as Satoru walks to the living room with a glass of water, setting it on the glass coffee table before sitting on the sofa.

“I’ve separated from my wife.”

“What? Why?” You turn to him, wide-eyed and confused, heart in your throat at the news, too much excitement coursing through your veins, where it doesn’t belong.

“We just… grew apart. We married young and had kids right away. Over the years, we realized we wanted different things.”

You nod slowly, turning to look at him through the corner of your eye, “I thought you were in counseling. I heard… at the hotel, last time we were together.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting back on the couch, long legs spread in front of him, “we tried for a while, but we’re too different now, want different things.”

It’s quiet for a few moments while you turn your attention back out the window, viewing the Shibuya skyline. There’s some shuffling behind you before Satoru wraps his arms around your stomach, pulling you into him.

“I want to be with you.” A chill runs down your spine at his quiet admission, your eyes flickering up to meet his through the reflection of the mirror.

You place your hands gently over his, leaning into his touch, heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. 

“Why would you want to be with me? I don’t fit into your world.”

A few months ago you wanted nothing more than to believe he actually loved you when he said it that night. But now that he’s telling you he wants you, that he left his wife and wants to make this work, you’re not sure if you can.

“Besides, what’s the press going to say, the people who voted for you, once they find out about your infidelity, that you got a stripper pregnant and you left your wife for her? This… this is too much, Satoru.”

But that’s why he wants to be with you. Because you’re so different than what his life has become.

Lies, sneaking around, constantly having to save face for his family's sake and his wife’s wellbeing. At least when he’s with you he can truly be himself.

Wild and crazy, calm and relaxed. You’ve seen it all in your short time together, helping him escape the loneliness he’s always been riddled with.

Satoru didn’t mean to fall in love with you, and he’s not sure when it happened. It could have been the moment he first saw you on stage, the most beautiful woman he’s sure he’s ever laid eyes on, or it could have been when he realized you liked to spend time with him and not his money or things he can provide.

You’re the only person he’s been with within his marriage. He hated himself after your first night together, but being with you is so freeing, in ways he hasn’t known, having been tied down to his overbearing wife for years, that he couldn’t stop himself from coming back for more.

After a few months, he realized he hated the way other men would try to garner your attention, and knew they couldn’t treat you like he could. Couldn’t match your energy the way he can.

“I want you to quit stripping.”

“Uhm, no? I like what I do, why would I stop?”

He sighs, it’s heavy, frustrated. And honestly, he wasn’t expecting a fight since he can take care of you in ways you’ve never even considered before.

“The papers, journalists, people on the street. They’re all going to call you a myriad of names, tear you apart and rip into your past to bring you down. It’ll be easier if you quit while we’re ahead.”

Also because he hates the ways guys look at you in the club. Hates the thought of someone else being able to put their hands on you.

If you did it with him, what would stop you from letting another man come and whisk you away from him?

“I’m not going to quit my job because of the decisions you made, Satoru.”

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, “fine, fuck! Just… I can…” he stops to think, waving his hands in front of him a little, “I can change the conversation. Say I support you with your career.”

“So you’ll lie?”

“Not exactly. I’ll just flip some words around and make it work.”

His reputation is ruined, nobody is going to accept him and his wife separating. Not when he’s built his entire career around being a family man. He has to find a new way to work this, otherwise, his career will be ruined too.

“Is that what you do… twist words until you get your way?”

“That’s part of the job, babe.”

He comes back behind you, grabbing your hand, leading you through his living room, down the hall, and back to his bedroom, “we can worry about all of this later. Let’s just be together before shit hits the fan.”

Satoru lays you back on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. You accept the slow deep strokes he gives, unlike any you’ve ever experienced from him before.

You stay like this until reds, purples, and blues flitter across the sky with the rising of the sun, until you’re both spent, falling asleep in each other's arms.

“Is this your wife’s?” Your staring at the dress Satoru is handing you, early in the morning with a disgruntled look on your face.

“I’m not that insane. I bought it for you.”

You squint your eyes, judging him for buying you clothes to keep here before having actually spoken to you about it. You begrudgingly snatch the dress from his clutches and put it on, opting not to cause a fuss over something as trivial as that.

It’s a little snug, a little smaller than you would have picked out for yourself, but you’re not really in a position to argue when you have nothing else to leave the apartment in.

Lest you go naked, but something tells you Satoru would rather have an aneurysm than let that happen.

He’s in a white button-down, black slacks and is putting on his watch as he stares at you through the mirror in his bedroom.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be journalists outside waiting on us.”

“O-oh, um… Why?”

He takes a deep breath, walking over to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“News broke last night about you being pregnant and my separation.”

It’s the reason he went to you last night and picked you up from the club. He knew this was going to happen overnight and he wanted to save you from having to deal with it alone.

You nod and don’t ask any more questions as you go down the elevator to the front lobby of the apartment complex, squeezing Satoru’s hand as he puts on his dark square shades, offering you a pair to help cover your face a little.

You’re sick to your stomach, not sure if it will ever settle. This isn’t how you thought your life would turn out, the pregnant mistress of a well-known politician, but you have no choice now but to see it through to the end.

When the doorman opens the lobby door, lights flash, cameras shutter and there’s a loud buzzing from journalists asking questions you can’t make out filling the open space.

Satoru makes his way through the crowd, following someone in a black suit to a fancy black car out on the street, holding the door open so you can squeeze into the back seat.

Now, all you can hope is that the two of you can make it work, and he won’t leave you and your child for another woman, like he did his wife.

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui

[mandana-the-service-pup]

Update to the update…

We had one big snow & Mandana decided to blow her coat already 🙄

Our decompression walk yesterday at the living history museum was great! Mandana has been doing physical therapy for about a month now and it’s really starting to show! For a long time she has been wanting to cut our walks down to 45 minutes and even then her back is usually sore afterwards. This time we were there for an hour and she was still having fun running around and exploring. I think she might have been able to go another hour if I didn’t stop her because it was getting dark. She also wasn’t sore afterwards and she’s been carrying herself a lot better too. I knew she had a weak topline we were trying to strengthen, but until the rehab vet got her hands on her I didn’t realize she had a thigh discrepancy and weak core that was making that so difficult.

We had our follow-up appointment at the Animal Rehabilitation Center today and the vet was very pleased with the results. Besides core exercises and general fitness, I’ve been working her right side extra hard. Our first appointment, there was a two centimeter difference between her thighs and this time it was only one centimeter! The vet and I theorize it’s because she has been heeling on my left side for four years which evolved into her default for which way she likes to turn and shift her weight during activities so she’s not getting equal movement on both sides of her body. She has a “switch” command that I use when passing people but I don’t usually have her walk long distances on my right because neither of us are very fluent with that position so it’s inconvenient. Now I know how important it is to make sure she’s using her whole body properly and not just whatever is easiest for her!

Speaking of improvements on our walk, the Fludrocortisone has been AMAZING. Like combined with the Midodrine it’s truly life altering. Low blood pressure, nocturia and muscle wasting wasn’t as big of an issue until after the Cardiologist took me off Fludrocortisone in 2022 but after just being on a low dose of it for one day I was able to walk a long distance without too much fatigue and even jog to the car without searing pain in my chest, neck and head! I haven’t jogged since…checking my notes…2022 😒

It technically shouldn’t have worked that fast or been that influential if it was just a blood pressure issue so my Rheumatologist was really interested in the effects. I thought maybe because it’s a steroid it helped with the autoimmune disease but the Rheumatologist said it doesn’t really work on inflammation in the way we use other steroids to get out of a flare so it’s way more likely that I have some sort of hormone deficiency. She doesn’t speak English well so it was hard to understand but it sounds like she was suggesting adrenal insufficiency. Which again, is not surprising at all because that was my theory many years ago and is actually what led to my POTS & EDS diagnosis (which are all very comorbid with each other) I’m not super enthusiastic about chasing that diagnosis right now though. Unless things have changed a lot since then, it’s hard to get a doctor to take you seriously enough to explore it and the test is generally unreliable and I would probably have to go off all of my treatments to do it. But for now Fludrocortisone is working and my Rheumatologist suggests I might have to adjust the dose periodically to accommodate different seasons, flares, etc.

Puppy update…you don’t get one…yet 😈

[youkailuvr]

RebelCaptain Secret Santa 2023

Hi @luciechat !

I’m not your original RCNSS, but I volunteered to whip up a little something for you when your original SS had irl happenings that prevented them from writing it.

Your prompts honestly sounds very much like something I would like to read. As usual, this almost grew a life of its own and I hope it meets enough of your prompts to make it enjoyable. It's titled <a href=https://archiveofourown.org/works/52791835>Choice</a> and it's also on AO3.

It’s been a heck of a year and I haven’t really written anything for a long time, so I really hope you’ll like this.

Enjoy! (Summary is below; full fic below the cut.

*****

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider. “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison. You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice? With who I was then? Not a chance.”

Nearly a year after Scarif, the surviving crew of Rogue One found themselves fully immersed in the Rebel Alliance’s efforts against the Empire.  Not only was the Alliance searching for a more permanent base after evacuating Yavin IV, but they were actively and heavily recruiting to boost their numbers, which is how Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso found themselves on the miserable little world of Agmir.

Cassian had only been fully cleared for all field missions a month previously, finally relieving him of the frustration of being on desk duty and intelligence analysis.  During his lengthy recovery (which involved several surgeries and many hours of physical therapy), he and Jyn had grown closer.  Jyn’s recovery had taken much less time than his and, as she found her place in the Rebellion, her talents as a fighter and coder had not gone unnoticed.  Jyn had already been on a few missions with the Pathfinders and given several (unofficial) sparring lessons, but she always returned to Cassian’s side after each mission.

Once Cassian was cleared for full duty, he made it clear (with Jyn’s permission) to Draven that he would only be taking field assignments with her as his partner.  (As much as it pained him to not have K-2SO by his side, Cassian had yet to find a suitable body for the droid’s backup disks.)  Draven had then given him the assignment to investigate the planet Agmir for possible Alliance recruits and suppliers.  A milk run, really, an easy job that Cassian hadn’t had to do for years, but having a non-life-threatening mission for once had seemed appealing at the time.

If only he had known about the rain.

Agmir was a developed planet, semi-populated, with the standard sector mix of rural and urban, wealthy and less-fortunate, law-abiding and law-breaking.  For most of the planet’s rotational period, it was temperate – a few rains here and there to avoid droughts, but mostly pleasant.  For the remaining two standard months, however, Agmir received eighty percent of it’s annual rainfall, resulting in daily rain and many destructive storms. 

And, of course, Cassian and Jyn arrived a month into that two-month window.  They realized very quickly that the rainy season was not prime time for tourists or even off-worlders in general, so they changed their cover stories from a clueless vacationing couple looking to explore the ‘edges of civilization’ to a pair of traveling laborers looking for work who had the poor luck to land on Agmir during the worst time of the year.

The rain would be bearable, Cassian thought as they entered the local bar and shook the rain from their shoulders, if only we were getting results.  As Jyn walked to the bar to get drinks and Cassian headed for what had become their customary seats, he reflected on what was likely to be a failed mission.  They had visited several cities so far and had currently been in this primarily working-class city for a week now.  Typically, those lower on the social rungs of society tended to be more sympathetic to the Rebellion’s cause and more willing to fight for it. 

However, it was becoming quite apparent that the people of Agmir were completely uninterested in any of the happenings of the galaxy outside of their little world – no one had even remotely shown any desire to stand against the Empire.  And Agmir didn’t produce anything that the Rebellion could use; at least, not that they couldn’t get elsewhere for lower costs and easier shipping.

Jyn returned with two glasses of a simple brewed cider, easily the least alcoholic drink the bar offered and one that had become their go-to.  They sat side-by-side on stools against the back wall of the bar, no table in front of them, but two small tables on either side, shared by other stools nearby.  He took his with a word of thanks and kept his eyes on a group of five hard-looking laborers that had just walked in – already loud and possibly already drunk.

“So, when do we get to leave here again?”  Jyn sipped at her cider, looking askance at his questioning expression as she did so.  “Don’t give me that look.  You know as well as I do that this place doesn’t offer us anything.”

“True,” Cassian replied.  “We should stick it out until the end of the rainy season.  Not being cooped up for days on end with nothing other than work to occupy the minds of the people could be helpful.”

Jyn rolled her eyes.  “I’ve seen it before, Cassian – I used to be like every person here.  Nothing will change their behavior until it affects them personally.”

Cassian’s attention was caught on the men who had walked in after them and he could tell Jyn was watching them, too.  They seemed to be the rough and tough sort of folks – bodies large and shaped by decades of manual labor.  But their voices were growing in volume, and they kept turning to look towards the rest of the bar.  Cassian wasn’t sure if it was true, but he thought they looked toward him and Jyn a little more often than was normal.  He kept an eye on them all the same.

Jyn’s words finally registered.  He looked at her, lowering his drink from where he had raised it.  “I don’t believe that.”

“What, that these people don’t care?”

“That you didn’t.”

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider.  “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison.  You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice?  With who I was then?  Not a chance.”

Cassian took a drink of his own cider and watched the room for a moment before answering.  “I saw you fight –”

His words were cut off by the sound of raucous shouting coming from the men they had been eyeing.  One broke off from the rest and stumbled over towards them.  Jyn and Cassian both put their drinks down and their hands drifted to their waists.

“You…girl,” the man slurred. 

(Cassian amended his original notion – the men had most certainly been drunk when they arrived.) 

“You, you should come over here.  With us.  We could – could show you a good time.”  The man’s breath and words were laden with alcohol as he leered openly at Jyn, who stared stonily back.

“I don’t think that would be a good time,” she deadpanned. 

The man scoffed and stepped closer.  “How-how will you know if you don’t give us a try?  We’ve seen you here, with him,” the man glared at Cassian as if he had been personally offended by the rebel captain.

“Me and my friends could wipe the floor with him in a tick,” he turned back to Jyn and smirked, “Then we could show you what a real man’s like.”

Cassian slid off his stool to his feet at the same time Jyn slid off hers. 

“I said no,” Jyn repeated before looking to Cassian.  “Time to go?”

He nodded once and they stepped forward, intending to walk past the drunken man and leave the bar.  The drunkard had one more trick to try, however, and grabbed Jyn’s wrist as they stepped past.

Jyn’s other hand whipped out and caught the drunk on the chin, forcing his head up and back hard enough that the man released his hold on her.  Howling in pain, the man stumbled back and held a hand to his face. 

“You bitch!  Forget a good time – I’m gonna kill you now for that.”

“Try it and you’ll regret every second,” Jyn hissed.  Cassian looked around and saw that the commotion had roused the other bar patrons.  Most were simply watching the altercation, but the man’s drinking buddies had risen from their seats now and were stalking in their direction.

Cassian slipped next to Jyn and placed a hand at her elbow.  “We should go,” he muttered, low enough for her ears only, “We don’t need a scene.”

He felt her stiffen and saw a raised eyebrow.  “It wasn’t me that started it,” she responded.

“I know,” Cassian smiled slightly.

Jyn followed his lead and turned to continue their path out of the bar, but they were stopped by the drunk man’s also drunken friends.

One of the bigger and burlier looking ones stepped closer.  “You hurt our friend.”

“What of it?” Jyn asked, defiant.

Another spoke.  “We want payback.”

“I don’t think you do.  We certainly don’t want a fight.”  Cassian knew his attempt at pacifying the men would likely fail, but he had to try.

“Oh, but we do,” said the man Jyn hit.  The other men closed in.

Cassian saw Jyn reach just under the edge of her rain coat, where he knew her favorite set of truncheons lay.

Oh well, he thought and set himself into a defensive stance just as the men lurched forward.

---

Twenty minutes later found a drenched Jyn and Cassian opening the door to their rented room.  As the door closed behind them, they peeled off their soaked outerwear and hung it to dry.  Though given the chill in the room, their clothes weren’t likely to dry much.

The bar fight had not been a hard one.  The drunks were easy enough to incapacitate; a few bottles had been broken (and maybe a wooden stool or two).  Jyn and Cassian had maneuvered the fight out of the bar and away from the other patrons, but what had made it worse was that the moment they had succeeded in luring the men outside, the skies opened up, turning what had been a steady, if heavy, shower into an absolute downpour.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had ever been this wet, even after Eadu.

He glanced over at Jyn, who looked back, just as soaked to the skin as he was.  “You can clean up first.  I’ll see about what’s wrong with the heater.”

“Thanks.”  Jyn grabbed her pack and walked across the room to the small, attached refresher, closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, Jyn emerged, now in clean clothes with a towel across her shoulders to prevent her wet hair from soaking into her dry shirt.  “Your turn,” she said, coming to stand beside where he knelt in front of the room’s heater.  “Any luck?”

Cassian leaned back on his heels and shook his head.  “No.  I can reprogram droids without a thought, but this heater?  Nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

Jyn reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet.  “Go get changed – I’ll give it a shot.”

He flashed her a grateful smile before grabbing his own pack and heading for the ‘fresher.

When he emerged a few moments later, a second towel around his own shoulders, it was to the sound of low cursing coming from the area around the heater.

Jyn was kneeling by it, forcibly replacing the outer cover and cursing quite brilliantly under her breath as she did so.

“No luck?”

Jyn easily rose to her feet.  “No,” she sighed, “At least it’s not cold enough to turn this rain to snow.”

Cassian hummed in acknowledgement as he stowed his bag next to hers by the door.  The rainy season here wasn’t cold by most sentients’ estimations, but the dampness seemed to seep into the bones and make even a moderately cool ambient temperature feel much colder. 

Body heat would likely be their best option for a safe sleep.  Given how close he and Jyn had become, it wasn’t unusual for them to share a bed, though all they ever did was sleep.  The comfort of knowing someone was near, was next to you – someone you could trust to have your back and protect you, should you need it – had given them a respite on the nights when their past became a little too prominent in their thoughts.

Jyn’s ease around him was obvious when she unerringly stepped forward and pulled down the covers on one side of the bed.  “Are you coming?” she asked.

He smiled slightly and followed her lead, laying their towels across a nearby desk chair.  As they settled into bed and dimmed the lights, a flash of red on Jyn’s arm caught Cassian’s eye.  Her shirt sleeve had gotten pushed up enough to bare her forearm and he saw an angry red slash across it.  He immediately sat up from the pillow.

“Jyn – what happened?”

She sat up as well.  “What?”

“Your arm.”  He reached for the injured limb and it was a testament to their familiarity with each other that she didn’t flinch away from his touch.  He held her wrist gently as he turned her arm to see the mark on her outer forearm – a defensive wound, then.

Jyn stared at her arm.  “Oh, it’s fine.  It had stopped bleeding by the time I got changed.” 

Cassian released her hand and slid back out of the bed. 

“Where are you going?”

“We need to clean and wrap that.  Who knows what was on whatever cut you,” he said, reaching his pack and removing the medkit.

“Cassian, it’s fine – it’s not even bleeding!”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and held out his hand for her arm.  “I’m still going to do this.  An infection is the last thing we need right now.”

Jyn let him disinfect and bandage her arm.  “Anywhere else?” he asked.

“No,” she responded.  “What about you?” 

He shrugged.  “A few bruises, but they’ll heal.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow.  “You made me show you mine.  It’s only fair I get to see yours.”

Cassian flushed slightly and hoped the lowered lights would hide it.  “Fair is fair,” he agreed, and showed her the two worst bruises – one to his ribs and one to his bicep.  Her fingers lightly slid over the one on his arm and he could tell she was worried. 

“They’re superficial, I promise,” he assured her, reaching for her hand on his arm and holding it tight.  “I’m alright.”

They settled back down and further dimmed the lights, though they didn’t turn them off entirely and left just enough to see by if needed.

Side by side, they lay there and tried to rest.  Cassian and Jyn both knew that Agmir was not what they needed, so they had decided on the way back to the rented room to leave the next day, rain or no rain.  But to do that, they would need a good rest, if only a few hours’ worth.

Sleep proved elusive, however, as the chill of the room only deepened.  The blanket provided to them in the room had previously been enough to keep them comfortable, but the combination of a cool room combined with the soaking they had received during the fight was proving difficult to regain that warmth and rest.

Finally, he had enough and turned to her, intending to offer the most basic way of warming he could think of.

“Jyn –”

She turned at the same time.

“Cassian –”

They both laughed lowly.  “Go ahead,” he offered.

“No,” she said, still smiling, “You first.”

Cassian inhaled.  “It’s cold in this room and I know you’ve got to be just as cold as I am.  Why don’t we lay closer and share the body heat?  It’s bound to be warmer than not.”

Jyn looked at him, thoughtful.  “Okay,” she simply said, before sliding closer and curling against his side, her head on his shoulder.

Cassian froze.  Jyn noticed and he felt her tense as well. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes, only let me just...” Cassian eased his arm out from under her to rest along her back.  “Okay?” he asked, hoping she was comfortable.  It had only been a moment for him, and he felt like he could rest there forever.

He felt, rather than heard her nod.  Moments passed and Cassian felt himself drifting off when he heard Jyn speak.

“Cassian?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean earlier?”

Cassian woke himself fully.  “When?”

The tone of Jyn’s voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable.  “In the bar; when you said you didn’t think I was like these people.  What did you mean?”

Cassian blinked, looking down at the top of her head on his shoulder. 

“I mean that...I saw you.  I may not know every detail of your life before we met, but I saw you then.  I saw you fight for yourself.  Fight to protect that little girl on Jedha.  I saw you befriend two forgotten warriors so fast that they were willing to leave all they had behind to follow.  I saw that when it came down to it, you wanted to do what needed to be done so others could have the chance to survive, to win – and your conviction was enough for others to stand and follow.  That’s all this Rebellion really is – people who see what needs to be done and do it.”

Jyn was quiet for long enough that Cassian worried he might have overstepped.  Then he felt her shift and lay her free arm across his chest.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “I see you, too.  I see the man who has given his life time and again to a cause he believes in.  A man that befriended the most annoying, most loyal droid in the galaxy.  I saw you come back for me.  You’re the only one who’s done that in a very long time.”

Cassian’s smile at the mention of Kay faltered a little at the reminder that many of the people in Jyn’s life (and his own if he was being absolutely truthful with himself) tended not to stay long.  And they couldn’t promise each other a full life together either.  Even if they were to ever leave the Rebellion, civilians were never safe in a war.

Cassian gently pulled Jyn closer to him and tugged the blankets a little more snuggly around them.  A moment passed and he felt Jyn relax into the first tendrils of sleep.  But maybe, he mused, maybe we should take our own advice and take the chances given to us.

A gentle smile graced his face with the hope of the future as Cassian followed Jyn into sleep.

[ari-kari]

hey. gnarly gender stuff below. wouldn’t recommend reading if you are triggered by gender doubt, detransition, sexuality, negative body talk, and surgical malfeasance. oh and also light gore. sorry it’s going to get kind of weird

so I’ve been quietly stepping away from id’ing as trans for a while now. which is a subject that probably needs its own post, all things considered. but there’s one aspect of my (de)transition that is causing an enormous amount of stress in my life, and I’m genuinely not sure how to handle it. so I figured blabbing about it here might help me get some clarity.

anyways. let’s talk titties.

my first top surgery in 2022 was botched. dog ears, massive janky nipples, bizarre incision site choices - it was a whole deal. I got a revision last year (from the same surgeon lmao) that fixed a lot of things, but unfortunately it made other problems significantly worse. So while aesthetically things are much better than they used to be, I still consider myself to be botched. I haven’t taken my top off in public since it happened, and I don’t see myself doing so any time soon.

For a long time, I assumed that this was my only problem; some asshole small town doctor had messed up my results, and now I felt uncomfortable in my body. But it slowly began to dawn on me that things were more complicated than that. Because when I imagined myself being intimate with someone with perfect, stellar top surgery results…I still felt horrible. To the point where, even with nipple prosthetics, I haven’t felt comfortable enough to have sex since my revision 9 months ago.

So now we get into the crux of the problem. Which is this - I do not feel desireable without breasts. Not to myself, and not to others. And to be honest, I knew this would be a problem even before I got the surgery, but I went through with it anyways. Because desireability is small potatoes when it comes to the horrors of gender dysphoria, right? In my mind, I was being vain to put my intimacy concerns over the pursuit of my “true self”. Everyone with dysphoria had to “fix” it eventually - I couldn’t just not get top surgery.

But like…fuck, dude. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten top surgery.

I prefer my body without breasts. It feels much more “me”, especially when I’m alone. But I don’t feel hot. I don’t feel fuckable, or beautiful, or attractive. And I’ve been trying to chip away at it in therapy, but I haven’t really put much of a dent in it, and it’s bringing up some really hard questions that I no longer feel capable of ignoring.

Honestly? My confidence in my sexuality is a big fucking deal to me. I’m someone for whom intimacy of all kinds is really important. And even though I know that there are PLENTY of people who find flat chests attractive, I personally do not. And it’s seriously starting to fuck with my head.

Idk man. Insurance is able to cover reconstruction for me due to a federal loophole, but there’s no way in hell they’re going to fix my jacked-up nipples on their own. And I’m seriously beginning to question if a little gender dysphoria might be worth the relief of finally feeling confident in my own skin again. I have a consultation appointment in June, in either case. So in the mean time, I just have to…figure this out. No biggie.

Anyways, that’s my spiel. I’ve been wearing prosthetics for a while now and tolerating them fairly well, but I recognize that having something physically attached to you is a whole other ball game. So we’re just gonna keep on trucking and see what happens 🫠🫠🫠 either way I have a funny feeling that the “perfect” answer I’ve been seeking to this problem does not exist.

[mscoffeesq]

Wolf and Bunny, Pt. 2

Hi, this is a series now that I’m collaborating with @grumpybunny-edith on!

Part 1- Part 1 [Bunny POV] Next Part

Day 0

“One seventy-five, eighty-eight.”

You stare at the screen in disbelief. Your heart starts racing and your blood runs cold. Something has to be wrong, it shouldn’t be that expensive for a single month’s supply of a single one of your hormones.

“Wait,” you try to keep your voice steady and grip the counter to try and shake off the feeling that you’re going to pass out, “is that with my insurance?”

The pharmacy tech gives a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I checked it three times just to be sure.”

Shit. SHIT. What the fuck were you going to do now? There’s no way you could afford that with a full week until payday, and even then that would end up eating into a good chunk of your budget. You thank her, and let her know you’ll be right back.

You’re trying very hard to focus on your breathing as you pull your phone out. Your anxiety has been at an all time high ever since you started this process, and you second-guess yourself constantly. Maybe this is a sign that this was a bad idea after all? Everyone you care about kept trying to talk you out of starting hormone therapy, trying to convince you either that the feelings you had would pass or that lycomorphone would fuck your life up.

Now you were being priced out of it. You scroll through GoodRx to see if maybe you can get a better price through them than your shitty insurance while meandering through the aisles. In the background, you can hear another girl arguing with the pharmacist; she seems to be getting pretty heated.

There’s about ten bucks in crumpled ones in your pocket from a tip a customer gave you last night, which you use to buy a Monster before moving outside- the argument at the pharmacy is only making your anxiety worse. You lean against the cool concrete wall of the drug store as you continue desperately searching for your medication on the mobile site.

After a moment, another woman storms out of the building. She’s muttering angrily to herself as she takes out a cigarette and takes up a spot on the wall near you. Holy fucking shit, she’s so gorgeous. An absolute badass smoke-show is standing right fucking next to you and you’re too big of a disaster to even form a coherent thought even though you desperately want to say fucking anything to make yourself look cool in front of her.

She seems to notice your distress, “Sorry, I can stand further away if this is bothering you.”

“No, no I’m good,” you respond quickly. Say something, dumbass. Literally, say anything. For the love of all that is holy, do not fuck up a chance to talk to a pretty girl like this. “Tough day?” Fuck it, it will have to do.

She lets out an annoyed laugh, “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my prescriptions, and they’ve been no help at all. They say it’s my doctor’s fault, but my doctor insists they’ve sent the prescriptions right on their end. Which leaves me without my fucking hormones, but no one seems to care.”

You start to feel angry on her behalf- how fucking dare they make someone suffer like that? Before your brain even realizes what you’re doing, your morbid humor kicks in, “Wanna set the building on fire? It probably won’t help, but it might make you feel better.”

She laughs. Like the hopeless romantic you are, you’re already picturing both of you picking out wedding dresses together. Get it together for fuck’s sake. “You’re cute. Thank you, but I’ll have to decline, even though it’s very tempting.”

She drops and stomps out her cigarette. “Hey,” she pauses and you notice that she’s blushing a little bit, “you’re a wolf girl, right? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear you trying to get your meds.” She taps her ear, and you notice it twitch ever so gently, “Rabbit hearing. It’s one of the first changes you really notice.”

Did you just seriously start salivating? What the hell is wrong with you? You swallow and smile shyly, “Yeah, but I haven’t gotten my meds yet.”

“I noticed. Sorry.” She checks her phone then sighs, “Well, this is super annoying. I need a drink. Wanna hit up the coffee shop across the street? My treat,” she smiles.

“Absolutely,” the word tumbles out in practically a single syllable as you practically leap off the wall to join her.

She chuckles. “I’m Bunny,” she says while offering you her hand.

“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Why are you so fucking dense?

Rather than getting offended, she laughs, “I didn’t pick it, actually. It was just a happy coincidence.” You take her hand. After a moment she gives you a look, “And your name is…?”

“Shit, right. Sorry. I’m Lou. Louisa.”

“Sure it’s not short for lupine?”

“It’s not not short for that.”

Hey, that was over a year ago now. Congratulations, you’ve managed to not fuck up this relationship so far! Idiot.

[wooahaeruby]

MY FAVOURITE WRITERRRRR HELLLOOOOOO MERRY CHRISTMAS 😭❄️✨🎉🎄🎊💥‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

I am so sorry for sudden absence, well it was holidays and HAHAHHAHA I had a lot of chaos as in losing my ticket way to home and shits went down, and well, kind of shitty and well, the notification that the next chapter was being released made my week, genuinely. 😭

Now, on to the chapter—

I am glad that mouse is finally getting through that, the way you have set up the scene is perfect, the emotions, the details, the anxiety, everything is so good, and oh god I only wosh for her best and nothing else.

The flashbacks are so real, because even if my life was on chaos, I cannot help but when I was too alone, like when I was left to my own devices and I zoned out like not listening to music, pure silence, in the back of my mind, I keep visualising those scenes, and it makes me grimace—I am just someone who read it, but mouse is much more worser case than me, so I love that you haven’t like outed them this soon, but oh god, please please I wish hell on them ( for the information : I mean, the characters, PLEASE. )

The last scene was perfect, and yeah, readers who are gonna read, you need a lot of tissue and sanity that I didnʼt had. And, I am seeing that—THAT chapter is finally being cross posted here... oh god.......... I can only wish well to those who would read this, and the fact that I was insane for the straight two months, those were the times.

I hope you and the editors had an amazing christmas, and I am so glad that I found your page and I got to read this amazing AU, chapters. And take a lot of time to get it all out, you are doing absolutely amazing tristen, but I swear you make me wanna smack you some times (/j) but in seriousness, thank you so much.

I hope your christmas had went well!

— 🌙

Helloooo, hiiii Merry Christmas!! I know I'm a little late but I've been ✨️busy✨️

I was always saying to my editor "where is Moon, I need my entertainment!" I hope everything worked out in the end and you got to have a good holiday.

More under the cut!

Mouse NEEDS THERAPY BAD, there is many things that also need to happen over all before we get to more juicy plot. As someone who has gone to therapy for PTSD, I knew I couldn't just skimp over something as serious as such. I wanted to make it so we all know how hard things are for Mouse but also show how much everyone cares.

It's important to know that people care when you are going through some of your darkest moments. I like to write with some realistic elements as we already know.

This recent chapter on AOL is the start of very very necessary healing, for everyone tbh. You will see more healing as time goes on and see how Mouse changes to overcome. It's gonna be a lot, there will be a lot of fluff and love (as much as she can tolerate tbh).

Editor and I had okay Christmases! They saw their family, and I am still currently with mine, but I'll be back home soon!

I know I am a little mean to Mouse~

[u-r--lovely]

I’m 2 months sh free which is the longest I’ve gone in 3 yrs and things are still hard. I haven’t been able to socialize because I feel if I do then I’ll have to sh. I don’t have a therapist and I’m only going to two awful online group therapies a week. The only thing helping is seeing my dietitian twice a month. I’m in grad school, working more, watching tv, and reading sometimes. I just don’t see how this is much better than when I was numbing myself out by shing. Like yes, things are OK. I’m OK. I’m alive, I’m getting by but my one roommates gone for the next week and a half and I seriously don’t know how I’m gonna get by without her since I’m mostly alone. Like what is the entire point of not shing?? I might as well go back to doing it every so often until I can see my old therapist again which could be 4-5 months from now or literally never again. I’m over 3 months clean from the really really bad shing behavior and I relapsed w/ that after 4 months so idk why I can’t just go back to that for just a little tiny bit. Like I won’t do it as much as before only maybe once a week and that way I can keep up with my physical health. The only reason I’ve had to stop is cuz I get way out of control with it. If I do it only a tiny bit and have some goddamn self control then I could just keep doing it for as long as I want too. Once a week wouldn’t cause severe side effects especially if I keep up with taking vitamins, eating enough, sleeping enough etc. I just can’t do anything to cause me to go inpatient bc I can’t miss out on grad school whatsoever. So I simply don’t have the time for more treatment. I literally need to just have this self controlled chaos and be in control of this thing so that I can keep doing it. I had to stop before because it became my entire life and I have so many other important things to do. Anyways, I will see what happens I guess. Hopefully things don’t get out of control and I can have my sh and the things I care about.

[lucysweatslove]

The last two days have been really busy and tough. I’m so glad it’s over.

Yesterday I saw my PCP in the morning, and I think I already said that she was running so far behind I had to reschedule therapy. She basically confirmed what I thought already: hair loss from telogen effluvium, but I’m at the end of the heavy loss portion (pull test was negative). Lots can trigger it like stress or a high fever. Timing is right for stress related to school. The myalgias are most likely a combo of dehydration (I really can’t bring myself to drink enough fluids, and I know this) along with muscular tension (I have good strength and general flexibility when prompted, but I’m constantly tensed up- so it’s not that my muscles and fascia CAN’T but that I’m likely holding my body tightly). Since the really bad myalgias and allodynia mostly resolved back to low level myalgia with gradual worsening, I may have had an acute viral illness like influenza or something that made all of that transiently worse, but you can’t really diagnose afterwards (also, if lol if I did have influenza because I got my flu shot in September…)

She ordered some labs to check for muscle damage and any metabolic concern too, and I think she added D and iron on to it as well. But I haven’t come in yet because I haven’t had the time.

She ended up “prescribing” self care. Specifically, at least 20 min a day, 3 days a week, focused in muscular relaxation like gentle stretching or foam rolling. She said she could send referrals for PT specifically thinking the dry needling they do could help, and she’s happy to write a letter for therapeutic massage if I need that for insurance coverage (which, I don’t think I would). And I love that she is so willing to support me with those kinds of treatments. Reality though is that I don’t think I CAN make time for them on top of everything else. I’m at the hospital nearly every day anyway, so she was all “they can do it here” to convince me to try it (especially the dry needling), but I just can’t bring myself to spend an hour on a PT appointment somewhere in between classes and clinical stuff.

Also, I’m kinda sorta trying something new out personally in relation to the body discomnect. I downloaded Kinder World, thinking it would a great way to start doing smaller bits of more digestible self care… and I introduced myself for the first time ever identifying as a demigirl. I read about it for the first time a couple months ago I think, and it felt like it matched how I feel about my general gender and even some of my body disconnect, but I have a hard time with it… in my head it works well and I’m totally fine with it and feel like its a good descriptor, but I don’t know how other people will take it, or what they’ll assume I think or feel because of it. Especially because I don’t want to devalue or take away from the seriousness of anybody else’s marginalization or trans experiences. In my personal framework I’m still cis. I’m AFAB, and my my general presentation and what I’m comfortable with matches my gender assigned at birth to a degree. I love a lot of traditional feminine things like dresses and my long hair and doing my makeup, and I still use she/her pronouns in basically all situations. More so, I never particularly feel MASCULINE either. I just don’t feel totally binary feminine. Like the intensity of femininity is… low, even when I’m doing the “feminine things.” And I know many agender or non-binary people can identify with some femininity too- I’m not saying you have to identify as feminine or a girl to enjoy those things. But for me, it feels like the way I experience the disconnect from gender isn’t strong enough or all the time to say I’m NOT in any way a woman.

I kinda had this same feeling when I realize I was demi sexual too. I had no idea if that was actually part of LGBTQIA+ because a) asexuality isn’t always welcomed in that acronym, b) I’ve only ever dated men and as AFAB myself that feels like a “straight” experience and has come with privilege, and c) because I do experience attraction to my spouse, am I even welcome in ace spaces? My best friend who is bi and also has some non-binary feels (she/they last I heard) is like “I include you in queer” and reassured me all the time that pride is for me. I honestly don’t even know my romanticity at this point or if I’m capable of developing sexual attraction to women or non-binary or agender folk, because I’ve never tried to develop that connection. I’ve been with my spouse for 12 years, since I was 17. I never really explored that part of me, and I while I kinda want to know for my own knowledge, I’m really happy and fulfilled in my marriage and I’m not like, “tempted to explore and find out.” More so, I just realized recently that I honestly don’t know, and that feels also a little weird as I’m approaching 30. But yeah, having my best friend’s inclusion makes me feel more secure or valid or whatever. I’m more comfortable wearing my pride colors and generally calling myself ace spec too.

Anyway, I’m sure I’m overthinking the gender thing. When I shared the demigirl thing with my best friend when I first found, her response was like, if it feels like you then great, use whatever words and terms and pronouns you feel matches. I just sent them a message (she’s hopefully asleep) about it too. First person I officially told about it. Idk how I feel about vocally identifying as demigirl and she/they in anything other than an online game and to my best friend… and I guess here too but idk. I think I’m just worried that I’m starting to take up a space not meant for me. Idk.

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Ten: Hello?

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: not a lot of warnings here, language, brief mentions of Dahlia’s trauma, therapy, making up, mentions of sex, mentions of angst, etc

A/N: More of a filler chapter than anything, but it’s still important. We’re making some serious progress and it’s a big push forward so don’t miss it! Next chapter is going to be heavier, smuttier and have some angst thrown in for good measure. You’re not going to want to miss it! Thank you once again to @bisexual-horror-fan for your help, beta reading and editing this for me. I appreciate your help more than I can put into words!

@lizey-thornberry as you want to be tagged.

Therapy sucks. Therapy sucks even more when it wasn’t even your choice to attend sessions to begin with.

Sitting in front of a stranger staring at me with faux concern was agitating to say the least, especially when she’s getting paid a hundred dollars an hour to do just that, stare at me until I break and confess all my deep dark secrets and let my trauma seep through the cracks left behind from Woodsboro. The only reason I attended in the first place was due to my parents and my doctors.

I’d spent the first few sessions sitting in silence, watching as the arms of the clock ticked and tocked until an hour went by, and I could go back to moping in peace.

I was getting better now, slowly. That wasn’t down to the therapist, the doctors or my family. It wasn’t down to Sidney or Randy. It wasn’t even really down to Mickey as much as at the time I believed that to be the case. No, I now know it was down to me, giving myself the opportunity to be raw and open with another human being, completely vulnerable in ways I never had before.

Life’s too short for regrets, so I don’t regret it at all.

The one thing I did regret, however, was how I’d left things with Randy.

I’d been seriously neglecting my friendship with him, and I knew reconciliations had to be made sooner rather than later. The issue was the two of us were both too stubborn to make the first move into forgiveness. Even as kids, when we fought, we simply wouldn’t talk to one another until one of us would throw a toy at the other and hit them across the head. But we were adults now, and I don’t think I’d get very far if I threw a Barbie doll at him anymore, as amusing the image in my head was.

“Dahlia Levine?” The sweet looking receptionist called my name with a warm smile, to which I half-heartedly returned as I forced myself to stand up, making my way down the familiar hall to my therapist's office, Dr. Lorraine Galloway.

The door was already open, but I still tapped my knuckles lightly on the wood twice, and she twisted around in her chair, nodding and smiling politely when she saw me, loosely gesturing toward the huge armchair across from her. I obeyed quietly, settling down on the comfortable cushion and folded my hands in my lap.

“How are you doing today, Miss Levine?” She asked, the notebook already settled onto her lap, simple, small, lined paper and one of those curled metal spines that binds the pages together, looking like a coiled phone cord. Her hand rests on the page, holding her dark blue and gold fountain pen, her position in her chair is relaxed, one leg folded over the other as she observed me, waiting for my response.

I shrugged, eyes trained on my hands as I responded, “Better, I guess? And please call me Dahlia.” I’d already had a fair number of sessions with her and asked to be referred to by my first name every single time, it was beginning to annoy me and that must have been evident in my tone, judging how I heard the light scribble of pen to paper, making me suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Was she seriously making a note of that?

“How’s college treating you, Dahlia? I haven’t seen you in a little over two months.”

Shrugging again, fingers itching to twist my ring, I replied, “Things have been good. I haven’t felt the need to bother coming in.”

I could feel her eyes fixed on me, and it was already pissing me off. Dr. Galloway wasn’t like my old therapist back in Woodsboro. She actively tried to engage with me, try and get me to speak and fucking feel, although she learned fairly quickly I was completely unwilling to discuss Stu. No amount of therapy will ever make me want to consciously relive any of that.

“Is there anything you’d like to discuss or share? You have the whole hour, remember?”

I hesitated for a second, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Dr. Galloway seemed to grasp at the straws and quickly added, “I’m here to listen,” before lightly placing her notebook onto her desk, leaning back in her chair and pushing her glasses up her nose.

“I… Uh…” I shifted awkwardly in my seat, settling on playing with my ring to try to comfort myself, push myself into talking. “Could I talk about my friend, Randy?”

“You can talk about whatever and whoever you want to, Dahlia. These sessions are yours.” Her hands opened, as if inviting me to go on, to which I awkwardly did so.

With a small sigh, I began to tell her about the last few months. About Mickey and Randy, and how impossibly guilty I felt that I’d been neglecting my friendship with the latter, practically threw him aside for some guy I was dating. She listened intently, and it honestly felt good that someone was listening to what I had to say with no judgment, even if she was getting paid hundreds of dollars to do so.

“Has Mickey ever given you or any of your friends reason to think he’d hurt you?” Dr. Galloway asked once I’d told the tale. Hesitating again, I nodded my head once, and she rested her chin against her hand, eyes urging me to go on.

“Well, a few months ago, before we started dating, Mickey fucked-” I cringed slightly at the word choice before correcting myself, “-sorry, slept with this girl at a party. Tricked me into going into the bedroom, so I’d see it.” I physically flinched at the memory, seeing that girl's face twisted in pleasure and Mickey fucking her from behind, eyes fixed on my face with that sick smirk on his face.

I hadn’t thought about that in a while, suppressed it to the dark dusty corners in my mind along with my other painful memories I’d sooner forget all about.

“And did Randy know about that?”

“No, I never told him. But I think he had an idea because it was after that night he started having reservations about Mickey and I- I just don’t know what to do.” Fuck, is this why people went to therapy? I could feel so many suppressed emotions rushing to the surface so fast it was making my head spin.

“Maybe your friend has a reason to be concerned, then.” She suggested with a small shrug.

“He doesn’t.” I insisted firmly, halting the twisting of the ring and shaking my head, “Yeah, Mickey can be kind of a dick, but no one else sees the side of him that I do. How patient and gentle he can be.”

“Then maybe that’s something you need to talk about with Randy. Communication in friendships is important, and it’s clear that he’s important to you.”

Randy was important to me. I thought about it as I walked back to campus, shivering at the crisp air and silently cursing myself for forgetting to bring my jacket with me.

He was important to me, so was Mickey in a very different way. I thought about how much I missed Randy, discussing everything and anything with him until the day turned to night. How he was a huge part of the reason I was even able to recover, him staying at my bedside whilst I was in the hospital, doing everything he could to make me smile, the perfect friend.

Once on campus, I found myself making a beeline toward the one room I knew Randy would be in; the theatre. He enjoyed working on film projects there, so I wasn’t surprised to walk up the steps and see him perched on top of a prop wall, legs swinging and brows furrowed in concentration as he squinted into the lens of his camera.

“Hey, Rand.”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, camera nearly tumbling out of his hands as he looked at me, blue eyes wide. His face twisted to something akin to indifference as he eyed me up and down, lips pursed, before he mumbled, “Hey.”

I anxiously inched closer to him until I was leaning beside him, looking up at him seriously, “I’m sorry.”

His expression changed to shock as his head cocked to the side, and he exclaimed, “The fuck did you just say to me?”

The grin broke out across my face before I could even register it, playfully pushing Randy’s leg with a, “Shut up, dickhead.”

“Sorry, I just never thought I’d live to see the day Dahlia Levine apologizes to me.” His tone was only half teasing.

“It’s long overdue. I’m sorry, I’ve been a really shitty friend lately, Randy.” I said with a sigh, eyes dropping.

“Dahlia, it’s not you I blame, you know that.” His tone had an edge to it, and I instantly knew who he was in fact blaming.

I looked back up at him, practically pleading now as I spoke, “Randy, please, you don’t have anything to worry about. Mickey isn’t going to do anything.”

Randy rolled his eyes with a scoff, carefully placing the camera down beside him, “So you actually are dating him? For fuck's sake, D.”

I was getting mad, but I kept it inside, taking his free hand that wasn’t gripping the camera slightly harder than was probably necessary into mine and squeezing it gently.

“Even if it is a mistake, it’s my mistake to make. He makes me happy, Randy.”

Randy frowned, looking down at me with his brows knitted together, “He really makes you happy?”

“Yes, he really does.” I spoke honestly, maintaining eye contact with him all the while. Randy knew I didn’t lie, so he had no reason to suspect otherwise. He simply sighed, placing the camera in his other hand down beside him before moving it to place over the top of mine and nodded his head, saying softly, “Fine. For God’s sake, I still think he’s a fucking dick, but if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”

“So we’re friends again?” I asked hopefully, biting my lip as I awaited his response.

He rolled his eyes at me again, this time affectionately and released my hands, jumping down from the wall and pulling me into a tight hug. I closed my eyes, my arms wrapping around his waist as I hugged him back and his chin rested on the top of my head, the feeling comforting and familiar.

“Of course we are.” He said. I could tell he was smiling, but I know it didn’t quite reach his eyes in the way it should have, but at that moment, I was too happy to have my friend back to take much notice.

If only I’d noticed. If only I’d listened and was more critical.

After that, things were better, at least for a while. Mickey and I were growing closer with every passing day, listening to music in his dorm and just chatting mindlessly about anything and everything. He showed me some bands I’d never heard of when the movies got a little too much. I could tell his built-up wall was gradually beginning to crumble, allowing me to really get to know him, or the part of him he wanted me to know, but he was still always just a little distant. Not as much as before our night together, but a hint of detachment still lingered in the air.

Something was happening. I knew that was the case, something about it just spells it out, you know, like when a storm is coming in the summer? The lack of sound and the feeling in the air tattles on what is to come, announcing it long before a single flash of lightening or clap of thunder does.

One night, Mickey had already fallen asleep, but I simply couldn’t, so I just laid flat on my back, staring unseeing at the dully illuminated ceiling from the streetlights outside, when my phone began to buzz quietly on Mickey’s bedside table.

I glanced at his alarm clock, the bright letters stating it was three thirty in the morning.

Who the fuck would be calling me at this time.

I still felt uneasy about receiving phone calls and everybody in my life already knew that, but the anxiety that it could be an emergency got the better of my, so I flicked the phone open, taking in the unknown caller printed across the screen for a second before answering it, pressing the phone tentatively to my ear with a whispered, “Hello?”

No response.

I swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the lump forming in my throat before asking again, a little louder, “Hello?”

Nothing.

Mickey stirred next to me, rolling onto his side and groggily opening his eyes, lifting his hand to rub them gently.

I sat up, hand shaking as I repeatedly whispered “Hello?” into the speaker.

“Whose that?” Mickey's voice was thick with sleep and the minute the words were out of his mouth, the line went dead.

Read Chapter Eleven HERE