#with me over an insanely simple question and then never talk to you again until a year later when I have a second question. hhjb

[icewindandboringhorror]

I’m always paranoid of my tumblr being deleted or malfunctioning or something like that someday, so here’s other places to find me/follow me, just in case lol

~ instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lucalicatte/

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~ Other Links (stuff I don’t use often/isn’t Main enough to list here, like twitter, neopets, other tumblr sideblogs, youtube channels, etc.) are here - http://icewindandboringhorror.tumblr.com/otherlinks )

[ayyy-pee]

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Summary: You can run all you want, but Toji will always find you.

Story Warning: Stalker Ex-boyfriend Toji!!!, Threats of Violence, Shitty Date (literally), Smut, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Possessive Sex, Threats of Pregnancy omg, Possessive Behavior, No condoms we get plan b 'round here

Artist: Idk! But if you find out, let me know and I'll update my post

Your lips turn down in a frown, eyes widening as you swipe your mascara over your lashes one last time. You blink as you take in your appearance in your bathroom mirror for the last time, slipping your mascara wand back into the tube and twisting it tightly shut.

You have a date tonight.

The first one you’ve had since moving to Sendai from Tokyo. You met him at your new accounting job. He’s nice, a little boring for your usual taste, but he’s exactly what you needed to date. Someone your age. Someone with their life together, and someone who isn’t fucking crazy. And god did you need the not crazy part.

Your ex was an older man who seemed to have it all together when you first met. Things were easy with you two. He worked a job that required a lot of travel. He supposedly worked for the government, never asking questions because every answer was a stern “It’s confidential”. And that was fine. You didn’t need to know what he did for a living as long as he was good to you, and he was at first.

Two years of dating and everything was going well…save the bouts of jealousy and possessiveness your ex sometimes let slip. When he wasn’t making sure to watch your every move, monitor any man who spoke to you, he was fantastic. Loving. Doting. Funny…All of the things you wanted in a partner. It was just when his jealousy reared its ugly head, it became everyone’s problem.

He never hurt you physically, no. He would never. But that didn’t apply to anyone else within your vicinity.

It was flattering at first, how he’d lose his shit just at the sight of you with another man. But then it became too much. Breaking up with him didn’t work. He’d just show up wherever you were, telling you he loved you, that he can’t do this life without you, to give him another chance and he’d be better. And every new chance always ended the same. With some random man on the floor with a bloody nose after talking to you at the bar, your ex looming over him, jaw tight, nostrils flared with anger and you storming away.

You thought dating an older man was going to be different, that you wouldn’t be dealing with the same childish shit men your age would put you through. But apparently, age didn’t make a difference. At his prehistoric age, your ex proved that wasn’t the case.

He was never going to change.

No matter what you did, he was never going to leave you alone.

You soon realized your ex was more than jealous and possessive. He was downright insane. You remember what it was like every time you broke up, the vicious grin he would wear after ruining one of your nights out, chasing you down until you gave in to him…and then he was ruining you back at your apartment.

And you hated yourself for that. How easy it was for him to break down your walls with little effort. How easy it was for him to get you to forgive him. He didn’t have to do much. He just needed to show up, tell you sweet nothings and you were putty in his hands, opening the door to your life for him…And your legs.

It’s why you moved so far across the country. The further, the better. You’d blocked his number, packed up and didn’t even tell your closest friends where you were going. You needed a complete revamping of your life. Because you loved him too much to resist him if he ever showed up again.

With a sigh, you check your makeup and dress one last time before you head out. You’re going to the movies. It’s a simple date. Doesn’t require you to do too much, but you want to make a good impression. It’s your first date since moving to Sendai and you deserve to have a normal date for once. 

When you arrive at the theater, you’re immediately hit by the smell of butter and the sounds of kernels popping in the machines behind the concession stand. Your date is already waiting inside with popcorn and your tickets. He flashes you a bright smile, tells you you look beautiful tonight and you feel your cheeks warm beneath his gaze. It’s a little weird to be out with someone new, but isn’t that what you wanted?

He’s nice. Give him a chance.

The attendant checks your tickets and points you to your theater. You climb the stairs, glancing down at your ticket to ensure you’re on the correct row, right in the middle of the theater. The perfect view.

Your date sets the popcorn down between the two of you. “I heard this movie is really good.”

“Me too,” you nod, reaching into the tub of popcorn at the same time as your date. You both smile shyly at each other when your fingers touch, grabbing a handful of popcorn just as the theater lights dim and the movie begins.

- - - - - -

The movie blares in the back of the theater, the music building to a crescendo as some action scene reaches its climax. But that’s not what the man at the top of the theater is watching as he shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth. No, there’s a much more interesting sight in front of him, right in the center of the theater.

You.

Who gives a fuck about the movie when he has a perfect view of you?

Well, of you and the fucker sitting a little too close, whispering in your ear any chance his gets and slipping his arm around your shoulder.

He wants to march down and kick your little friend in the head, splatter his brain across the floor. But he’s off the clock. A random body to clean up wouldn’t look good for him and it definitely wouldn’t increase his chances of getting back to you. And that’s the goal here. To get to you. So he has to be patient, like he has been all this time.

He could always barge into your new place and make you talk to him. He could always call your phone even though you blocked his number and changed phone providers. That’s lightwork for him, child’s play. And he wants to have some fun before he makes a move.

Emerald eyes watch in the darkness as your date leans into your ear to whisper something, your shoulders shaking slightly as you laugh. It almost makes him break his promise to bide his time, watching that man put his lips so close to your soft skin.

The skin he misses running his large hands over. The skin he misses kissing, running his tongue over. The skin he misses admiring after coating it with his own release. Fuck, he misses you more than anything. He’d damn near lost his mind after realizing you left Tokyo, up and gone in the middle of the night without so much as a word. Not even your friends knew where you’d gone. And he would know if they were lying. 

But now that he has you in front of him, he’s determined to never let you go.

Your date leans over to whisper once a-fucking-gain in your ear and his jaw tightens, teeth clenching so hard it makes his head throb. Your date stands, heading for the stairs, leaving you alone in the theater to watch the movie. There’s too many people around for him to approach you so soon. It’s not the right time, but he has an idea of what he could do until then.

The man in the back stands, casually following your date down the steps and out the theater door. Your date is an idiot, not even aware for a second that someone is behind him and closing in on him quickly. The easiest prey he’s had in awhile. Green eyes watch as he turns into the bathroom and he follows after silently.

Your date closes himself into the further stall, the largest and takes a seat on the toilet.

Even better. Out of sight.

The man doesn’t sense any other presence in the bathroom as he enters the stall next to your dates and stands atop the commode. He peers down boredly as your date sits, toying with his phone. Clearly he was going to be in here for awhile anyway, but now it may seem he won’t be returning.

“Got any good games on there?” The green eyed man asks, smirking when your date practically jumps out of his skin, dropping his phone with a loud crack.

“What the fuck, man?!” He shouts, face red with anger. “Get the fuck outta here, fucking freak!”

“I’ll cut to the chase.”

Your date fixes him with a look of confusion.

“Leave your date.”

Your date looks even more confused. The green eyed man rolls his eyes, sighing with annoyance. He grits his teeth. “Leave. Your. Date. Go home, forget you met her.”

Now your date’s red face has returned, his anger rolling off of his skin. “Fuck off! Get out of here or I’ll call security, you fucking weirdo!”

The man sighs again, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He tried to be nice. He really did. With ease, he hops over the wall of the bathroom stall, landing before your date, one foot smashing his phone into pieces. He digs the heel of his foot into the device for good measure, the sound of glass scratching the floor filling the space between them.

And then he’s leaning over, meeting your date at eye level, green eyes glaring into his wide and terrified ones. “Leave. Your. Date. Or you’ll be lucky to leave this bathroom with only your phone crushed in.”

He can see the way your date trembles, the sweat beginning to bead along his forehead and above his lip, the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a loud gulp before he nods silently.

A large hand comes up to pat his cheek, tapping it lightly a few times. “Smart kid,” the man says before standing straight. “Don’t even think about calling security either or you won’t make it out of the theater in one piece.”

He turns, kicking the door to your date’s stall open before waltzing out and heading back toward the theater. He ascends the steps, bright eyes locked on your form as he squeezes past the other moviegoers on your row to get to you.

He takes the seat next to you, slipping an arm around your shoulder and loving the feeling of you snuggling in closer. He leans over, lips pressed to your ear as he asks, “What’d I miss, sweetheart?” And he revels in the way your body tenses in his embrace, trying to pull back but he holds you to him.

“Toji –”

“Shhh, it’s rude to talk during the movie.” Toji reaches into the tub of popcorn you and your date were sharing, offering you some. You shake your head in refusal and Toji shrugs, shoving the handful into his mouth.

- - - - - -

The movie flies by, your stiff body held by Toji the remainder of the film. When the lights turn back on, he holds you there until all the other guests have dispersed. When the last guest is gone, he looks at you, a wide grin stretched along his face.

“Missed y–”

You shove his arm off of you, brushing past him and hurrying down the stairs. Angry would not be a strong enough word to describe what you’re feeling right now. Maybe irate. Enraged. Incensed. No, still not enough.

You push out of the theater doors, Toji hot on your trail. Your eyes scan the empty halls, seeing no signs of your date who you noticed after Toji’s arrival just happened to never come back from going to the bathroom and grabbing a quick drink. It’s like he vanished into thin fucking air.

“Sweetheart, talk to me.” Toji pleads, grabbing hold of your arm and you snatch yourself out of his hold.

“Don’t sweetheart me, Toji. What are you doing here?” You hiss and you hate the way his stupid pretty green eyes hold mirth in them. Like he’s enjoying that he’s made you mad. “What did you do?”

Toji’s smile widens more if that’s possible, the crescent scar on his lips only becoming more prominent. “What do you mean?” He asks innocently.

You shoot him a glare. “You know what I mean. What did you do to my date this time? Knock him out in the bathroom? Drown him in Dr. Pepper? Hang him upside down from the roof until all the blood rushed to his head and he died?”

Toji hadn’t even thought about the last two, but he takes mental notes…for research.

He shrugs, though. Because he didn’t do any of those things. “I didn’t touch him.”

You stare into his eyes, getting even more pissed because you know he’s being honest. “Then what did you do?”

He steps towards you, holding his hand out. “Nothing bad at all. Can you really blame me if your date’s a flake? Maybe he just doesn’t appreciate you the way I do.”

You peer down at his hand, rolling your eyes as you turn on your heel and storm down the hall. You leave the building making a sharp turn around the corner towards your car. This dumb ass theater only has one entrance and exit which has to be a fire hazard, you think. To get to it, you have to go down one of the alleys down either side of the building.

Your feet carry you down the alley, Toji’s hurried steps rapidly catching up to you. His hand catches your wrist, turning you to look at him. You don’t pull away this time, knowing the more you push him away, the harder he’ll try to get closer.

“Hey. Hey, stop. Please,” he pleads and in the darkness of the alley, beneath the soft glow of the moon, his green eyes shine brightly. You have to close your eyes so you don’t immediately fall back into his hold. The second you look into his gaze, you know you’ll be his again. You shake your head.

“Toji, please. I left to get away from you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m not doing anything, baby,” he says softly. “I just don’t understand why you’d leave without even saying anything.”

He genuinely sounds hurt. You do feel guilty, but you needed to do what was best for you and your life. Toji would ruin any chance you had at happiness with anyone else if given the chance. He would have never let you have a life in Tokyo, but here you were hundreds of miles away from the city…and he still won’t let you be happy if it’s not with him.

“You know why, Toji,” you breathe softly. “I can’t keep doing this jealousy thing with you. You just…get too crazy. Look at tonight.”

“Okay. That’s fair, but tonight, I really didn’t do anything. Your date broke his phone and I just…suggested he go hurry and get that fixed.”

Behind your closed eyelids, you roll your eyes because while that may be somewhat true, it’s not the whole truth and you know it.

“Still, Toji–”

He cuts you off, his other hand coming up to hold your cheek and you melt into his touch just like you knew you would. It’s annoying that literally closing yourself off to him does nothing because every part of Toji is your weak spot, crazy as he is.

You open your eyes to gaze up at him, those beautiful eyes of his peering into yours and you know you’re done for.

“I came all this way to see you, baby,” he rasped. “I missed you. Didn’t you miss me?”

You did. Fuck, you did miss him. You know that makes you an idiot to miss his crazy ass. You ran away from your entire life, from everything you’d known to get away from him and now that he’s standing right in front of you, your body is reacting in a way you couldn’t resist even if you tried. You know you should move, step away from his hold, but you don’t. You can’t.

Weak. Don’t do it!

It feels like you have an angel on one shoulder, a devil on the other. Your brain is screaming at you to not give in to Toji, to turn around and leave him standing alone in this alley. But your heart is screaming for your brain to shut the fuck up.

You nod, inhaling deeply before sighing, giving in because you always knew you would. “I missed you, too, Toji.”

You don’t know why you miss him. Is it the excitement that comes with being with someone like Toji? Is it the way he wants you and only you even to the point he’d practically kill someone to keep you to himself? Maybe even actually kill someone to keep you to himself? Maybe you’re just as crazy as Toji – but you’re his all the time.

A small smirk curls at the corner of Toji’s lips, his other hand releasing your wrist to cup your other cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Toji leans forward and you think for a moment he’s going to kiss you, your head tilting up to meet his lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he runs the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of yours over and over, letting out a shaky breath before he presses his forehead to yours.

“I might’ve threatened to crush your date's head in in the bathroom while he was taking a shit…” Toji confesses suddenly before he presses his mouth to yours.

This might’ve pissed you off before, but now, Toji’s confession goes straight to your core and you gasp. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue into your mouth. His hands tilt your head so he’s able to have more access to you, to take everything you have to offer like he always does.

The kiss heats up in no time. Toji grunts as your tongue tangles with his. Your hands come up to grab on to his shirt, tight as ever, bunching the fabric tightly in your fists. Toji steps back, guiding you to the wall of the alley, his kiss growing feverish, desperate. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips forward when he presses his hard body against yours.

Toji breaks the kiss, panting as he drinks in the sight of your half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips, that damn dress you’re wearing that’s keeping him from the rest of you. His fingers glide down the side of your face, along your neck and down your chest. They ghost over the swell of your breasts, over your nipples and he stops, running his thumb slowly back and forth over the hardening peaks, smiling to himself when your back arches off of the wall. He lets his hand continue their journey wandering down your form under he reaches the hem of your dress.

Then he feels his jealousy begin to crawl up his throat. He can’t help it when he thinks about you wearing this pretty dress for someone else.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, though the venom is dripping from the word. “You wear this for that fucker in the theater?”

Wide eyed and maybe a little dazed by the sudden change in attitude, you nod. Toji fists the hem of your dress, tugging the fabric gently.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you wore it for him?” He wants to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you gulp, heart thumping against your ribs. Not in panic, not in fear…but in excitement. “Yes, Toji. I wore it for him.”

Toji hums to himself…and then a loud shredding noise fills the empty space of the alleyway as Toji absolutely destroys the fabric of your dress. Heat pools in your core immediately, a soft gasp rushing past your lips. His hands come up to your waist, spinning you around. He presses his body against your back, your front pushing against the wall of the alley.

“So sweet of you to dress up for him,” Toji breathes as he leans down, running his nose along your neck, inhaling your scent. “Hope you had fun tonight.” His hands find the remnants of the hem of your dress and he pulls it up, bunching the fabric up at your waist. Then his hands are running along your body again, against your bare ass, brows lifting in surprise when he feels the thin line along your waist.

“Oh? A thong, too,” he hums, his voice sending chills up your spine. “Looks like you were planning on having fun tonight. Weren’t you?” You nod, but Toji clicks his tongue. “Words, baby.” 

You yelp quietly when Toji brings his large hand down on your exposed cheek. The loud smack echoes through the alley. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “Yes, I was.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad your date left you then.” He tells you, and you can hear the fake pout coating his words.

Toji toys with the band of your thong before he hooks a finger into the band and easily rips the fabric of your underwear, too, and you think you’ll be lucky if you leave with even a single piece of clothing on after he’s done.

“I’m gonna touch you now. That okay?” He asks, because even through his jealousy, he’s a gentleman…sometimes.

“Yes, Toji.” 

Toji presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, you’re so good for me.” He slips his fingers between your folds, hissing the moment he feels your slick coat his hand. “So damn wet for me already. I’ve barely touched you.”

“Toji, please,” you whimper when his fingers find your clit, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive nub. It’s enough to make your skin ignite with chills, but not enough to bring you even a little closer to the edge.

“I’m a little upset with you, you know?” Toji tells you casually. He slips one of his fingers into your cunt, grunting when your walls immediately squeeze down on him. “Fuck, you thought you could take this sweet little pussy and run away, huh?”

He pumps his finger in and out of your hole slowly, torturously. Your legs are trembling, hands pressed against the wall as you bite down on your lip to keep quiet. You’re in the open, getting fingerfucked in an alley. It would only take one person turning the corner for you to get caught literally with your pants down.

Your brows knit together as Toji keeps up his pace, leisurely adding another thick digit into your pussy. The coil in your belly grows tighter and tighter with every pump of his fingers, with every quiet squelch of your pussy.

“Fuck, you feel so good squeezing me like this,” Toji groans from behind you. “Wish this was my cock.” You whimper, pushing your hips back against his hand. “You want that, sweetheart?” He coos, curling his fingers into that spongy sweet spot that brings tears to your eyes. You gasp, rolling your hips back to meet his thrusts, riding his hand. 

He continues, “Yeah? You want my cock to stretch this tight little pussy, huh? Want me to fill you up like I used to?”

“God, yes! Toji. Fucking fill me up, please, please,” you beg, reduced to a teary mess against the alley wall.

Toji chuckles, stopping his ministrations and you wait for him to start again, chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation. When you feel his fingers leave your core, you damn near feel like sobbing. You hear his zipper come down, feel his cock springing against your ass and the stickiness of his precum smearing against your asscheeks.

He leans forward, a hand resting next to your head as he whispers into your ear, “You ready for me?” Then he pushes forward, his thick cock stretching you wide open for him. It burns in the most delicious way, but you still whine quietly. And it makes Toji pause.

“Tapping out already?” He chuckles, kissing the side of your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, baby. How many times have we done this? You can take it, right?”

“I can take it, Toji,” you mewl softly. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” Toji nudges your cheek with his nose and you turn your head on instinct, your mouths connecting as Toji pushes forward, his cock slowly filling you. You pant into his mouth as his length stretches you open him, makes you accommodate him until he bottoms out, a deep groan leaving him.

The weight of his cock stretching you is enough. The moment Toji hits your sweet spot, your walls convulse, your orgasm catching you off guard just as a couple of patrons are walking past the dark alley. Toji puts a hand over your mouth, muffling your moans as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He doesn’t move…his gaze locked on the couple as they stand at the end of the alleyway talking to each other and laughing. They’re none the wiser to the way your pussy is clamping down so hard on his dick he could cry. It feels too good and he doesn’t have the patience to wait for them to fuck off. He’s been waiting. He’s done with that.

He grits his teeth as he pulls his hips back, hearing you gasp at the sudden emptiness and then he rolls his hips forward, hard. You cry out into his hand, eyes squeezed shut as Toji watches the couple from afar.

“Shhh. You don’t want them to hear, do you?” He taunts.

Them?

Your eyes shoot open, your blurry vision clearing enough to see a couple at the end of the alleyway. Right when you see them, Toji pulls back for a second time before he slams into you again over and over and over, grunting roughly into your ear as you both watch the couple at the end of the alleyway deep in conversation.

You pray they don’t come your way. You pray they turn around and go back the way they came…And some sick part of you prays Toji fucks you even harder because something about being so close to being caught has your arousal absolutely dripping down your thigh, coating Toji’s cock.

“You like this, huh?” Toji groans. “Hiding in plain sight, getting fucked like a slut? This is new for you.” He slams into you again, bottoms out into harder and harder, his hand squeezing down over your mouth to muffle your cries.

“This is why I love you so damn much,” he grunts, pressing his cock as far into you as possible before pulling back and doing it again. “You’re perfect for me, made for me.”

The couple at the end of the alley finally walks off, going the opposite way. The moment they’re out of sight, Toji releases your mouth, letting you cry out for him freely.

“Fuck, Toji!” You moan as he pounds into you with reckless abandon.

“Did you think…” he groans, hands coming down to squeeze your ass as he fucks into you. “There’s anywhere on this earth you could run to…” he’s panting, squeezing your ass so hard you know you’ll be sore tomorrow. “Where I wouldn’t find you?”

You’re keening into the open air now, taking every fucking harsh thrust Toji gives you. You press your forehead to the wall, feeling that familiar coil building up again, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re mine, fucking mine, sweetheart. I’ll always find you,” he grits, dragging his lips against your cheek, pressing possessive and wet kisses along your face and neck. “You could never run from me.”

He bottoms out again, his slick balls slapping hard against you, muttering, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. Gonna fucking fill you up, put a fucking baby in there so you can never leave me again.”

There it is. The jealousy. The possessiveness. The craziness that you fucking love. And that’s all it takes for that coil to snap again. Your release crashes over you as you scream Toji’s name out, not caring who hears. He thrusts into you hard, fast, grunting, kissing your face sloppily until he pushes his cock into you as far as he can go. You feel him cum before he says he’s cumming, the warmth of his release filling your pussy, painting your pink walls white.

Toji buries his nose into your hair, trying to catch his breath as you both come down from your highs.

You’re an idiot. 

You tell yourself this as you come down from the high of your back to back orgasms. 

You’re an idiot…And maybe just as crazy as the man you ran away from in the first place.

Toji pulls out of you, tucks his cock away back into his pants and spins you back around. Toji places a wet kiss on your lips and takes your hand in his. 

“Let’s go home.”

[mischelmayleys]

Only this first one is going to be post here probably so for more go to my wattpad: football_woman_11

CHAPTER 1

Mapi and Ingrid were the perfect ending for each other. They knew it of course. But sometimes they felt like something was missing. Maybe someone. Some little legs running around their shared apartment in the catalonia town. 

It started as a thought from their conversation one simple evening that turned them into a fostering process. They were told they are too busy and always traveling for the games as all the workers have said. It wasn't an environment for a little kid that probably came out of something tragic to find itself in a foster system. 

They still tried. They still asked if there was someone they could foster and later adopt. But the simple "No" set their hopes to minimum, until one day.

„Are you totally insane Eliza!" My social worker yelled at me as soon as she found me in a police station sitting in the 24 hour jail. I looked down at my bleeding knuckles and pursed my lips to stop the pounding pain in them.

I shrugged my shoulders and let myself sink further into the uncomfortable wooden chair.

„Do you have any idea how this will look  on your record. Running from yet another of your homes is one thing there but fights. And don't let me start at your school records." She was looking at me through the bars of the cell.

„They weren't my home." I said looking up at her.

She sighs: „Eliza I know you don't like them, but you need to at least try. There aren't many families that want a 16 year old, yet trouble maker. You know how hard it was for me to find you Mr and Mrs Freemans?" She let the question sink. She didn't expect me to answer her, yet she stayed quiet.

„I was protecting myself in the fight AND running away was a way better option than staying." I argued back at her. She doesn't know how it is in the foster system. For her every family is good, but it's never the case.

I was in five families so far. Neither of them were okay.

In the first one the father abused me mentally the second one physically, but no one ever believed me.

Who would believe a 16year old girl over people who put everything together once they're investigating? No one...

I didn't eat normal food for a long time, of course I always ended up getting some bread or cold food, but my body was missing some hot and fresh food.

„Eliza we talked about this. A roof over your head is home.“ Again I stayed quiet and just stared at my now numb hands. She wasn’t right. Home is when you are somewhere you are loved and treated right. 

My social worker continued to look at me for a few more minutes until she signaled for the cop to release me: „You are sleeping in my office tonight. The family dropped your things into my car. Come on.“ She grabbed me by my arm and dragged me into her car. 

„You bailed me out?“ I asked as she started the engine. 

„Yes.“ It was a simple answer but it made me smile a little. At least someone cared. 

The next day my social worker forced me into my classes and said after school to go immediately to her office, saying she found a family for me to stay over there for a couple of days. I didn’t bother to go, instead I went to a small football field where I sneaked and borrowed one ball which was always lying around somewhere on the pitch. 

I threw my backpack onto the field which didn’t include any of my school stuff. Instead of books it was filled with my football shoes and a half of my skateboard. The other half was showing from the back pack as it of course didn’t fit into him.

I quickly changed my shoes and began to do some tricks with the ball that I learned online. They were simple but at least I didn't suck at it like I did with school. 

It wasn't like I was stupid or something, I just didn't care. Foster kids don't normally get picked out to the school football team or to anything really. You don't have many friends because you are always moving around and no one likes new kids anyway. 

After some time my phone blew up with messages and missed calls from my social worker asking where the FUCK I was. I just rolled my eyes and said I'll be there in a few minutes. It was better to come late, at least they won't pick me if they see that I'm not bothered. 

I would lie if I didn't say I was scared to go into the office door. It would mean meeting the people who I would live with. They never were nice people fostering me. 

They seemed okay but most of them turned out into drug junkies, alcoholics or abusers. Sometimes all at once. I am kind of used to it now. I mastered a skill in running away and quickly scanning the areas I was in to see a potential way out. 

I took a deep breath and with a bored expression knocked on the door and opened them immediately after. 

I was met with my social worker and two women talking.  

„Eliza, come here. Sit.” My social worker said, making me sigh and sit into the chair next to her facing the two women. 

„This is Maria and Ingrid and they will take you in, until I find someone to adopt you.” my social worker was saying but all I was focusing on were the two women in front of me. 

One of them had tattoos all over her arms and one on her neck. I focused on that one more: 

Looks can be deceiving

Hmm interesting. People with tattoos tend to look aggressive and most of the time they are. One of the last foster homes I was in, the man had many tattoos…I used to look at them when he beat me up. How his muscles flexed and the tattoos moved on his arms. 

„Eliza!” I was torn from my thoughts because my social worker called my name. 

„Yeah, sure whatever.” I mumbled annoyed and stood up. 

„Be nice and please stay out of trouble.” She said as I followed Ingrid and Maria out of the door. 

I took a deep breath: „No.” And with that I closed the door and turned around to find them staring at me.

„What?” I asked.

Ingrid smiles at me: „We are waiting for you.” she stuck out her hand and I just looked at it and walked past them. 

„Or not.” I heard Maria mumble as they followed me closely.

Due to me not knowing where to go I stopped and looked back at the two women. 

„It’s that black Cupra.” Ingrid pointed out a black car sitting at the back of the parking lot. 

I nodded and walked to the car feeling them right behind me. 

I quickly slipped into the back seat and sat down with my backpack next to all of my bags which I don't know how they got there. Probably my social worker. 

I pulled my board between my legs so I don't make the interior of the car dirty. It was so clean. 

„So, are you hungry? Or did you eat in school?” Maria turned from the front seat facing me. 

I shook my head quickly: „I am not hungry.” I learned that by now, when someone asks me if I'm hungry the answer always has to be no. I once said yes and I hadn't eaten anything for three days due to me being ungrateful. 

They both shared a concerned look which I didn't see because I was already looking out of the window.

When Ingrid stopped the car I realized that we were in front of McDonald's. I frowned, why are we here if I said I'm not hungry?

„I know you said you aren't hungry but I think some fries aren't that big of a deal, what do you say?” Ingrid turned my way smiling. Why the fuck is she smiling at me? 

„I guess…” I mumbled in case this was some kind of a trap. Ingrid and Maria looks nice…nicer that the other people, but I am done trusting the system putting me somewhere nice.

They both went outside of the car as I stayed in. 

„Well you are coming too let's go.” Maria said as she opened the door on my side. Fuck! I mumbled under my breath and got out of the car carefully placing my board into the space between the seats. 

They were asking too many questions. If I really want just fries? If I want a burger as well? Or what I want to drink. I tried to reply short and no to most of the questions, but in the end I ended up with The nuggets, fries and coke zero in the back placed safely in my lap as we sat in the car to their house.

I still don’t know what to think about them. They are smiling at me, buying me food and making sure I have everything and it has only been two hours since they first met me. There must be something wrong with them…

Ingrid parked the car in front of a flat building in the center of Barcelona. It looked expensive here…or at least better than the streets where my usual foster parents lived. Maria took all of my bags even though I said I could carry them on my own, but she dismissed me by saying: “Why would you do that?” 

I didn’t fight her back on it, not because I didn’t want to, but it was Ingrid who literally guided me out of Marias way. 

“Come on let Maria be, I am going to show you your room.” Ingrid said and with her hand on my back she led me into the elevator. I had the Mcdonald's back in one hand and my board in the other one. I get my own room? 

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eighteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Violence. A lot more violence than usual. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : if you haven't already voted for what you want to see me write next, you've got a day and a half left

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eighteen

It felt like the world was unravelling around him, like he was coming apart at the seams. While he’d said the words hours ago, it wasn’t until that moment that he started to feel the weight of them. He loved you. He loved you in a way that he’d never allowed himself to love anyone else. He loved you in a way that was so deep, so visceral that if he lost you, he knew he’d never recovered. 

You were inexorably linked, two halves of one soul. You were everything to him and Billy knew he couldn’t go back to the empty, bleak life he’d been living, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself overwise over the last couple of months.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, running a red light to get to Krista’s building. Frank and Madani were talking but, to Billy, it all just sounded like static in his ears.

He couldn’t lose you.

He wouldn’t.

Pulling up, he killed the engine and before anyone could think to speak or question, he was out of the car, clearing the steps to the building two at a time. Frank and Madani had to rush to keep up with him, each still talking, calling after him. But Billy didn’t care about waiting, about figuring out ‘what to do’. No, Billy knew what he was going to do; he was going to make Krista talk, he was going to make her understand why fucking with you had been the worst decision of her life

It was a blur and, for a few minutes he lost himself; he kicked the door open and the next thing he knew, he had his hands around her throat, with Frank yelling at him to calm down.

“Where is she?” The voice that left his lips wasn’t quite his own.

“Gone. I don’t know where,” Krista answered, grinning despite the grip he had on her. “You’ll never find her. Just like you never found Mary.”

Somehow Frank managed to wrench Billy away but Krista didn’t even try to escape. She was enjoying the scene playing out before her, she was taking pleasure in his pain, glad that she’d had some small part in causing it.

“Mary?” It was Madani who spoke, gun drawn, stepping forwards. “Mary Poots?”

“Poor little Mary,” Krista said in a sing-song tone, barely holding back a laugh. “You thought you could replace me with someone so... fragile...”

“You killed Mary Poots?” Madani tried to continue her line of questioning despite the fact that Krista’s attention was fully on Billy.

“Now you’re going to lose the new one,” Krista carried on, all eyes on her. “I’ll take the next one, too. And the one after that. All of them. Every last one, until I’m all you have left.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Billy spat and that drew a laugh from Krista.

“If I am, it’s because of you, because you infected me...” she laughed again. “Or, no, I suppose it was Layla... not that it matters. You fuck up everything you touch, don’t you, Billy?”

“Just tell me where she is!” Billy demanded.

He lunged towards her, but Frank was too quick, too strong, wrapping an arm around him and holding Billy back.

“I don’t know,” she answered, still smiling, seemingly unbothered. “I never asked and he never told. You shouldn’t worry, I’m sure she’ll make a beautiful bride. Her fiance was so happy to finally have her back.”

Billy snapped and snarled, struggling against Frank and against himself, his last shred of control quickly starting to split and fray. He wanted to kill her, wanted to do what he knew he should have done months ago.

“She’s not worth it, Bill,” Frank told him, trying to pull him away.

“You’ve just confessed to murder in front of a Federal Agent,” Madani finally piped up, earning a laugh from Krista, before her attention shifted to Frank and Billy. “If Justin Drake has her and they’re still in the city, we’ll be able to track her down.”

“And what if she’s not still in the city?” Billy snapped. “There’s only a few hours until dawn...”

“We’re going to find her,” Madani answered, her tone sharpening to match his.

“And what about her?” Frank dared to ask, drawing all eyes back to Krista.

“I can send someone to pick her up.”

Krista finally moved, attempting to bolt for the door but, somehow, Billy managed to wrench free of Frank’s grip and lunged for her, knocking into her so hard that they both fell to the ground.

She ripped and tore at him with her nails, sinking her fangs into his shoulder and not letting go until his elbow connected with her face. They rolled, Billy ending up on top before she caught him across the face, clawing at him. She rolled him, straddling him as she landed another hit across his face while Billy’s hands gripped her throat.

By the time Frank pulled her away, they were both bloody and bruised, each bearing the marks of each other’s hatred. She kicked and screamed against Frank’s grip as he pushed her face first into the wall, pinning her there while Madani cuffed her to a radiator.

“You think that’s gonna hold her?” Frank asked, eying Krista as she dropped to the ground.

“It’s all we can do for now,” Madani answered. “We need to move.”

“She needs to die,” Billy snarled.

It felt like his body was vibrating with rage, like the thing inside of him had finally won. But, before he could move, Frank was on him, forcing him backwards, hands shoving him so hard that he knocked the breath from Billy’s lungs.

“You wanna waste time on her while your girl’s out there? You wanna throw her life away and yours just so you can settle a score with this crazy bitch?” He barked in Billy’s face, shoving him again. Billy didn’t have an answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now fucking move, this guy isn’t gonna find himself.”

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

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and gripping the edge of the table was all you could do to keep yourself from falling. It had never made sense why he wanted you, why he’d been so adamant; you weren’t anything special, you weren’t worth anything (certainly not when compared to the amount of money your parents owed him). But, now you finally had answers, it made even less sense.

He was doing this because you looked like a distant relative who you shared only a fraction of your DNA with. 

He was doing this because she had denied him, just like you were trying to deny him.

He wanted you to be a vampire, to spend an eternity at his side.

“No.” The word fell from your mouth with a certainty that you didn’t feel.

“You don’t have a choice,” he retorted, already sounding like he was done with your denials and insolence.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back, remembering all the times Billy had told you as much.

You hadn’t believed it at the time, you’d thought that it was just a line, something he was telling you to make you feel better but, now, faced with someone who wanted to remove your choice, your agency, you realised that Billy had been right all along. Lifting your head and sitting a little straighter, you silently promised yourself that you weren’t going to cower before him, you weren’t going to let this sorry excuse for a man decide your future.

“You can do what you want to me. I’ll never be yours,” you told him. “Even if it takes my whole life, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.”

“I don’t know what you think you can -”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you interrupted, not letting him get the upper hand, not letting him treat you like the naive child you had been when you last sat across from him. “You will never get what you want from me.”

Anger flickered across his face and it took him more than a few seconds to tamp it down again. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting such resistance from you.

But then came the laugh, a sound that caused dread to coil in your stomach.

“Like I told you; I’m a patient man and I have an eternity to bend you to my will,” he sai, his voice softer than his expression. “There might be nothing I can do to you anymore, but I already told you that your sister, her children...”

“You won’t hurt them.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll lose your leverage over me if you do,” you answered, trying to hide the discomfort in your voice, hating that you were gambling with your sister’s safety. “And if you think I’m being difficult now, you’ve got no idea how much worse I can be.”  

Drake let out another callous huff of laughter, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.

“You’re right, but there are other ways to hurt you, aren’t there? Other people close to your heart...” he trailed off for a moment, letting his words sink in. “What about William Russo or his little human friend? Karen is it?”

As much as you wanted to remain defiant, the thought of anything happening to Billy made you feel sick to your stomach. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. You wouldn’t. 

Before you realised you were doing it, your hand was gripping the knife in front of you. 

It took him by surprise when you lunged across the table, aiming the blunt knife towards his chest despite knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. You didn’t care. The outcome of this didn’t matter; either he would die or you would. Either way, Billy would be safe.

Plates and glasses smashed as you half-fell over the table, tipping his chair back and knocking him to the floor, you on top of him.

His fingers gripped your wrist, stopping you as you tried to bring the knife down, holding the tip only a few inches from his chest.

There was noise all around you and it wasn’t until some time later that you realised it was you, that you were screaming, telling him you were going to kill him, that you wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

The struggle felt like it lasted a lifetime when, in reality, a few seconds after you’d cleared the table, one of his goons had arrived and pulled you off him. Kicking and screaming, you were carried back to your room and thrown inside.

You landed with an awkward thud, pain radiating up your bad arm despite the cast. But, seconds later, you were back on your feet, banging against the door, trying to get out, only to find that you were locked in. But that didn’t stop you from continuing to kick and scream at the door, telling him that you were going to kill him, that the only way he’d stop you was by killing you.

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

After they’d left Josie’s, Frank had text Karen to let her know what was going on and where they were headed. She decided to stick around and keep asking questions around the bar, making sure that nothing had been missed but, after half an hour or so, she decided to call it a night and head home.

She left with your suitcase, having stuffed Bill the Beagle back inside, rolling it along the sidewalk behind her. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away and, despite the late hour, she’d never felt particularly unsafe walking home from Josie’s.

“Hey, uh, excuse me Miss?” A voice rang out.

Not thinking, Karen stopped and turned, seeing a large man dressed in a dark suit heading towards her.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, finally noticing the limo parked in front of Josie’s.

It couldn’t be a coincidence; Josie’s wasn’t the sort of place anyone would want to leave a limousine, especially not twice in one night. Karen took a step back, realisation causing her blood to turn ice cold in her veins.

“Yeah, I think that suitcase belongs to a friend of mine,” he answered, slowly stepping towards her. 

The moment he started to move, Karen reached into her purse, trying to find her gun but not taking her eyes off of him for even a second.

“Funny,” she answered, “because this case happens to belong to a friend of mine.” 

Gun in hand, she lifted it, pointing it straight at him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. She couldn’t be sure if he was a vampire or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances, and aimed the gun at his chest. It might not kill him, but it would definitely slow him down.

“Where is she?” Karen demanded.

“It’s none of your concern,” he answered back, daring to take the slightest step but hesitating  again when Karen lifted the gun a little higher, aiming for his heart.

“I said, where is she?” She repeated, taking a step of her own.

“She’s with her fiance and if I were you, I’d just hand over the case.”

Karen opened her mouth about to refuse again when he moved, clearing the distance between them with a supernatural speed, knocking the gun from her grasp and into the road. As she moved to grab the suitcase, he struck her with the back of his hand, knocking her off balance and sending her to the pavement.

Karen scrambled for the gun but, by the time she had it, he was almost back at the limo, throwing the case into the passenger side before moving around to the driver's door.

As he started up the engine, Karen noticed a taxi and quickly tried to flag it down. When it didn’t stop, she stepped out into the street in front of it, making it stop for her.

“Follow that limo,” she told the driver as she climbed into the back.

“Listen, lady, I -” the driver started to refuse.

“No, you listen, the piece of shit that owns that limo has kidnapped a friend of mine and I have a gun, so you can either follow that limo and get paid at the end of this, or I’m going to have to take your taxi.”

The threat hung in the air for a few seconds. She could see the driver wearily eyeing her in the rearview, no doubt taking note of the gun in her lap and her split lip.

“Alright, fine, just don’t go doin’ anything crazy,” he muttered before starting after the limo.

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

They were barely outside of Krista’s building when Frank got the call. Billy watched as his friend's expression dropped from one of calm control to absolute rage in less than five seconds. He’d been busy listening to Madani, to all the measures she was putting in place to try and track you down; tracking the limo, credit cards, checking hotel guest lists. It only vaguely occurred to him that it wasn’t until then that he heard your so-called fiance’s name for the first time tonight.

Justin Drake.

Not that it mattered what his name was; he’d be a dead man the moment Billy got his hands on him.

But, for a few seconds, all of that stopped mattering and his attention was fixed on Frank.

“Are you okay?” he demanded of the person on the other end of the call. “Did he hurt you?” There was a pause for an answer that Billy couldn’t quite make out over the sound of traffic. “Where are you? No - no, stay outside and wait for us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Billy asked the moment Frank ended the call.

“He sent one of his goons after the suitcase. Karen followed him back to the Park View hotel, she thinks that’s where he’s got her.” Frank explained.

A second later Madani was relaying that information on her call, but Billy was already moving for the car, and Frank was quick to follow.

“Wait, I can get back up and -” Madani started, falling into step behind the men.

“We ain’t waiting,” Frank answered.This time it was his turn to be angry. They’d gone near Karen and, now, it was personal for him. 

The conversation continued as they got in the car and carried on until they arrived at the hotel; Madani wanted to wait for back-up. Billy and Frank didn’t. It was that simple. They weren’t going to wait.

“You can help us, or you can stay here,” Frank told her, though his attention was immediately focused on Karen the moment he saw her, his blood starting to boil at the sight of her split lip. “We’re killin’ this fucker.”

“Yeah we are,” Billy responded.

Frank gave Karen some quick instructions, telling her to go wait in the car and to stay out of the way. He tried to tell Madani to wait with her but the Homeland Agent refused, trying one last time to convince them to just wait a few more minutes for back-up to arrive. Before she could even finish, Billy was moving past her and heading for the hotel’s entrance.

He moved through the lobby, drawing stares from everyone that looked his way; blood from the wounds that Krista had inflicted was still fresh on his clothes and he looked as if he’d just torn someone apart with his bare hands.

By the time he reached the front desk, there were already two members of the hotel security team standing there.

“I’m Agent Madani with Homeland Security,” she spoke before anyone else had the chance, and before Billy had the opportunity to do anything stupid. “You have a Justin Drake staying here, I need access to his rooms, now.” 

“I can’t just -” the receptionist started to answer.

“He has a woman with him up there, doesn’t he?” Madani asked, stepping up to the desk. “A woman that turned up earlier tonight?”

Billy took a step forward, getting ready to take matters into his own hands.

“I can’t reveal -” the receptionist tried again.

“He kidnapped her,” Billy snapped, “and he’s planning on hurting her. So you can either let us in peacefully, or we can make you.”

The security guards moved closer but then, at the sight of Frank stepping forwards, they seemed to shy away.

“We can wait for a warrant, or you can let us in now. Either way, if anything happens, it’ll be on you,” Madani explained. “Call Homeland - hell, call the cops, the FBI, whoever you want. Have us arrested when we’re done. But if anything happens, her blood will be on your hands.”

“And we’ve got Karen Page from The Bulletin sittin’ outside waitin’ for her friend to come out, so I suggest if you don’t wanna be named as complicit in this...” Frank let the threat go unfinished.

The receptionist had turned snow white, her hands trembling as she handed over a keycard and directed them to the elevator. The two hotel security members followed after.

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

You heard the commotion before everything went to hell.

There was a phone call; from what you could gather they had a friend in the FBI who’d gotten wind of a Homeland investigation, and there was about to be a raid on the hotel. They needed to get out of there, as quickly as they could.

“Come on,” he demanded, holding out his hand to you.

“No.”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” he muttered, his voice changing, turning softer. “Now, come with me.”

When he held out his hand again, you took a step towards him, wanting to do exactly as he said.

“N-no,” you said, shaking your head, trying to block him out, trying not to let him sway you.

“Come on, come with me. Right now,” he tried again.

Again you took a step, then another. Something inside of you told you to stop, to fight him, but you couldn’t. All you wanted to do was go with him.

“That’s it, come along and -”

“Boss, they’re in the elevator!”

The sudden disruption was enough to snap you out of it. You stepped back, reestablishing the space between you. You weren’t going to make this easy for him. 

“Told you I’d never be yours,” you muttered defiantly, triumphantly.

You both knew that there was no way that Drake was going to get out of this, at least not with you at his side. He’d have to let you go if he wanted to escape.

But you realised all too late what letting go looked like to Justin Drake.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He asked, starting towards you. “I would have given you everything if only you’d chosen not to act like a tempermental whore. But it’s really no bother. I’m sure when your niece is old enough she’ll be far more amenable, far more grateful for what I have to offer.” 

You stepped back as he closed the distance, until you found yourself against the window.

“At least I get to have one last taste,” he muttered darkly.

“No!” 

Your arms shot out, trying to push him away, trying to keep him from biting you. But he was bigger than you and infinitely stronger. He pushed you back, held you in place despite your thrashing and screaming. You tried everything you could to stop him from pressing closer and closer, trying to turn away as he bowed his head towards your neck.

“Not so defiant now, are you?”

“Please, no - no!” You screamed and begged, tears streaming down your face.

He bit down. Hard. 

Fangs tore through flesh, but rather than lingering to feed, he pulled back, his lips and chin dripping dark with your blood.

It took a moment for you to realise that blood was slowly filling your throat, that he’d left you with more than just a puncture wound.

Your hand lifted as he pulled back and started to walk away, feeling the wound he’d left and the way blood was spurting from it. Lightheadedness quickly over took and you found yourself sliding down the glass and onto the floor. Desperately you reached for the hoodie you’d discarded on the floor when you’d changed for dinner, pressing it against the wound, hoping you’d survive long enough to see Billy one last time.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you heard gunshots and shouting. Then someone was at your side, her hand holding the hoodie tighter against your wounds and shouting for Billy. 

Madani.

(What was Madani doing there?)

“Hold on, help’s on the way,” she told you, but the words barely registered.

You had so many questions but it seemed too late to try and ask them.

But finally - finally  - Billy was at your side. Dropping to his knees, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of you.

“B-Billy,” you managed to choke out despite the blood filling your mouth and lungs, “you’re h-here...”

You felt him squeezing your hand, holding you so tight, like he never wanted to let you go. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at you and you knew exactly what they meant; you were dying. In your efforts to save him the pain of watching you die, you’d brought it about decades early.

“I told you,” he muttered softly, “I’ll never let you go.”

Madani continued to press the cloth against your wound but you could tell from Billy’s face that it wasn’t helping.

“S-sorry,” you tried to mutter, wishing that you had more time, wishing that you could apologise properly.

“Don’t,” he told you, “don’t try to talk. Just - just stay still, stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”

“I l-love -” you couldn’t finish, there was too much blood and you were starting to feel so cold, so tired.

“Hey - hey, hummingbird, keep your eyes on me. It’s going to be okay,” Billy told you, but his voice sounded so far away. 

You struggled to hold his gaze, some part of you glad that you’d gotten to see him one last time, but the rest of you hated the agony on his face and the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you, squeezing your hand tighter, like he was trying to hold you in this life and not let you slip away. “I love you and - and I’m sorry, I know you’ll hate me but...”

The rest faded into the sound of your own panic, some part of you knowing what he was trying to tell you, knowing what he wanted to do. You tried to shake your head, tried to pull at his hand but you were so weak you could barely move. 

You were so far gone that you didn’t hear him screaming and pleading with Frank, nor did you hear Frank’s initial refusal and Billy’s threat to do it himself. 

Your eyes went wide when Frank loomed over you, looking at you for a moment, an unspoken apology colouring his features. You tried to speak, trying to say something - though, confronted with your own death, even you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. But you felt Billy’s hand squeezing yours and some piece of you wanted to hold on, wanted to have his hand in yours for longer than this moment, longer than the six months that you’d had together. 

You wanted him.

You wanted the man you loved.

(It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to leave him.)

But it was too late. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a gurgled breath, and the last thing you heard was Billy’s shouts.

End Note : So, yeah... I have a lot of feelings about this chapter. I know it jumps around and I'm not the greatest at action sequences (I'm working on it). And I know people won't like the ending and so on, but I'm having fun. I'm not sure if next week will be the last part now or if I'll have an epilogue the week after to tie up loose ends. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't a let down! Also I'm sorry if any typos slipped through, I lost a night of writing to go see Deadpool last night..

As ever, thank you so much for your support/reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

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[matchamiko]

lol neuvillette just sucking ur nipples or smth is enough to have u going a bit insane right??? RIGHT????

Giggling so hard rn

Warnings: breast worship/play, dry humping, mentions of masturbation, mentions of penetrative sex; previously established relationship.

If there’s one thing Neuvillette is, it’s thorough. You ask him about one of his trials after he returns from the Opera Eclipse, and he’s talking for hours about every piece of evidence in the case; you shyly ask him to brush your hair and he’s producing several combs and brushes and an oil to massage your scalp; he decides to take you on what humans call a date, and you’re trekking through the purple fields in the countryside to the most darling little picnic spot and dining on pastries until dusk, and then returning to the city to stroll about the fountains and gardens arm in arm with the promise of a mightily thorough kiss at the end.

And he’s no different when playing your body like a fiddle. He's got you folded into his lap, office door locked, blinds only half drawn but there's no danger of anyone looking in, not when he's so wrapped around you that it's hard to seen even a glimpse of your bare skin. It started as a visit for tea, the leaves you brought from your village in the Vale fresh and still warm from being dried over a fire, chatting idly in the way you two did that Neuvillette found so refreshing and simple. Then it led to you shyly asking for a kiss, having missed him so dearly and so wantonly, shown in the way you gripped his lapels and leaned further into him with a questioning sigh and an answered grunt. And now, you're half dressed spread over his thick thighs, his coat strewn next to the two of you and his gloves somewhere with it.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs against the column of your throat, hands running up the length of your back and down again, squeezing your hips into a dizzying grind. Your breasts press deliciously against the cotton of his shirt, nipples slipping and rubbing over his chest and every time you shudder with pleasure, Neuvillette basks in the way you arch harder into him like a cat. You feel wonderful, writhing over his groin and trying not to let your darkest desires overtake you like you so often did. The precious little tea farmer he'd befriended and then courted and then decidedly and silently pledged himself to; you're full of dirty secrets and filthy wants that has him spiralling into territories he'd never even thought about before. And your tits were one of them, to put it frankly.

He's fucked you before, numerous times, to your hearts content and more often than not, to your dictation and command. It wasn't surprising that your precious Iudex wasn't particularly well versed in human seduction, and you bravely stood up to the task you had completely made up, of showing him everything you desired and introducing him to everything he desired. But today, in the secrecy of his office, the knowledge that just outside the doors, people mill about and wait for an appointment with him; Neuvillette steps away from his duties and demands the feel of your supple skin against his teeth.

"I admit," a hand grasps the fat of your breast, squeezing roughly with the whoreish rhythm you have going on with your hips, "I've been thinking often about having you like this, desperate and desiring me all from the touch I give you here," fingers pluck at your nipple before he dips his head and takes it into his mouth. He's done this before, too many times to count, but with him being fully dressed and you an absolute mess in his lap; it feels different, raw and unfiltered in the wavering sanctity of his office. You can feel Neuvillette's tongue flattening over your nipple, swirling and curling like he does between your legs and it sends you arching into him, further into his reclined figure and deeper into his lap. A dizzying moan leaves you chest when you feel the hot, hard press of his cock through his trousers, confined in such a way that it's mind numbing when you grind against it. He pulls back for a second, looking up at you with hair strewn about his face, cheeks red and ears redder, panting hot and wet against your skin.

"Don't stop, please," he doesn't care for your politeness, doesn't care for your request, doing as he pleases with your body; one hand gripping your bottom and urging you to grind against him, and the other grasping meanly at your tit. Neuvillette seems positively ravenous this afternoon, though it should have been obvious in the way he allowed you to push him over to the settee and mount him without asking.

"I'm plagued with thoughts of you during matters that I should be attending to, important matters that garner my fullest attention and yet -," he suckles a bruise into the swell of your breast, held firm by his hands, squishing them together and nuzzling into the crevice between, breathing deeply enough to shudder, "All I can think about is you, what I want to do to you the next time we are alone, the next time you allow me to have you in such undignified ways," you're shaking when he regains his focus and takes your nipple into his mouth, tugging and nipping and gnawing like he does on his bottom lip when he's concentrating, suckling hard before letting go with a pop - allowing you to take a gasping breath and to look down at how positively enthralled he is at he taste of your doughy flesh,

"You don't need to be so formal while you're playing with my tits Neuvillette," you've always been more straight forward, more brash and crude, than him; having grown up in the countryside, in another nation, a whole other life to the one he leads. He leaves a wet trail from his tongue over your nipple, catching it between his sharp teeth and tugging enough to make you whine lowly, "I - can't stop thinking about you too, 'specially when I'm on my own," the implication is implicit but Neuvillette surges up into you, hips strong and knocking into yours with a grunt. He's filled suddenly with images of you writhing in your bed, hand stuffed between your thighs, fingers wet and slick in your cunt - the same he can feel pulsing and purring over his lap.

"Tonight, I've cleared my last appointment so I can spend it with you," he gasps, lips swollen from their assault on your breasts, eyes unfocused and pupils blown wide with want "After supper, after I spoil you like I have promised; you are showing me everything you do when you are alone and desperate for me,"

[disneyprincemuke]

be mine * gr63

your last night together ended on a bad note, and now you’re back after months to explain yourself

pairings: george russell x fem!reader

warnings: cussing

notes: ooooh wrote this at like 3am lfg!! i also started to obsess about alex albon?? yoooo that man is so fine i swear to god…

(sex) // (be mine)

it’s not all that different — not seeing you every couple of days like he used to.

george, however, does let you cross his mind a couple times a week when he’s not busy. it’s usually when he’s left in a corner with his thoughts. the way your eyes looked into his and how your dimples would show before your smile consumed him in a way he couldn’t describe.

he realised about a week after he last saw you that alex knew about your prior arrangement. alex didn’t elaborate on anything, simply just let george know that he was aware.

your name never came up in conversation again.

well, once when lily came to visit during a race weekend and was wondering why you refused to attend. and the girl did also question why george has been looking so upset in the recent days. all he could do was exchange a glance with alex and come up with a pathetic excuse.

sometimes he thinks he’s seen your face in the crowd by the paddocks, but it’s always just his imagination. so when he looked around the paddock 30 minutes ago and thought he had heard your voice, he simply brushed it off as another one of his delusions.

until he saw you again. not once, but four more times.

he’s not going crazy, is he?

george quickly rules out insanity when he sees you a fifth time in the williams garage having a conversation with logan. and you look good; perhaps the best he has ever seen you.

not to say that you looked bad before. there’s just a different glow to you that he can’t seem to figure out.

it was when logan greeted him with the call of his name and a wave that made you whirl your head around to finally look at him.

surprisingly, you do acknowledge his presence. you smile widely at him and give him a simple wave. and then your turn back around to continue your conversation.

george just walks away. he contemplated coming up to you and having a chat, but with the way things had ended that night, he decided it was better off.

meanwhile, your heart races in your chest as you resume your conversation with logan. you knew the repercussions of tagging along but you clearly hadn’t figured out completely how to face him.

you promised yourself, a few days prior, that you were ready to face george despite everything. you didn’t have it all mapped out like you had promised alex, but you can’t admit that to him.

at this point, you find yourself straying from the once engaging chat with logan. george is what took over your brain.

it seems that he took the hint as he pats your shoulder and bids you goodbye, claiming that he has some marketing activity to do.

you have thought of george in times of separation. it’s hard not to when he’s practically everywhere — your social media timelines, alex’s story and advertisements. it’s impossible to erase him from your life.

which is why you really tried to get it together while you were gone.

but the privilege of figuring out what to finally say to george will never come, it seems, as lily takes logan’s spot. she puts her hands on her hips and glares at you sternly.

“when are you going to talk to him?” lily questions with an eyebrow raise. “the day is almost over.”

you look down at your hands to avoid her intense stare. “i don’t know what to say to him… i gave him some bullshit excuse the last time i saw him.”

you hear lily sigh. you watch her take a step to lean on the wall. “and you came with us this weekend to finally debunk everything,” she reminds you slowly in hopes to keep you in check. “he won’t stay single forever, you know.”

“i know.” you lift your head up to showcase your frown. “but how can he still want this if i’d told him that the nights we spent together meant nothing to me?”

“i don’t know, but neither will you if you don’t talk to him.”

that’s all lily needed to say to you. you find yourself being pushed by an imaginary lily muni to the mercedes home in the paddocks.

as fate would have it, george is walking out of the glass doors, parting ways with lewis. he does acknowledge you like you did with him earlier.

except it’s a much shorter greeting. it’s a simple elegant smile, almost making you feel the hurt seeping through, before making a sharp turn away from you.

“george, hi.” somehow, you had found a voice from within you to call out to him. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

he stops on his tracks, slowly turning to face you. “hi.” he takes off the sunglasses sitting on his face and gives you a more genuine smile. this time, sending waves of familiarity through your chest. “how long has it been- 4… maybe 5 months?”

you nod slowly, the awkwardness of the exchange finally making itself known. “yeah, i’ve been busy with work.”

his eyebrow raises. “yeah? that’s incredibly coincidental. i was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

sure, he is admittedly still upset with you. only a little bit. but how was he supposed to react when you gave him the stupidest reasons why he can’t take you out on a date?

what the actual fuck did you mean by ‘it’s just sex’ before bolting off and never showing up ever again?

you sigh and drop your head. “i mean, i was.” you can almost hear him rolling his eyes when you see him shift his weight to one leg and a hand rests on his hip. you lift your head up and quickly come to your own defense. “for good reason.”

“in what world did you think saying that would make me feel better?” george narrows his eyes down at you, an expression you never come across too often personally. “i asked you out on a date when i last saw you and you blew me off as if we hadn’t already seen each other bare.”

you close your eyes briefly and hold your hands up, attempting to calm him down. you just wanted to explain yourself, that’s all.

“if you would just let me explain myself, i want to start off with an apology.” you search his eyes for any signs of pulling away, and when you conclude that he is willing to stay and listen, you continue. “alex was right before when he told me to get my shit together if i wanted to date you.”

george’s lips carve into a scowl. you can almost imagine what he’s going to say next. “alex?”

“yes. i admitted to him our little arrangement but when he advised me not to hurt you, i realised he was right,” you frown, your own eyebrows furrowing in sadness. you fold your arms over your chest and rub your arms as you feel the cold sweat from the nerves of laying your cards down.

“i wanted to go on a date with you so bad, please trust me. but with all of my baggage, you didn’t deserve someone who would only give you half of themself,” you explain.

this makes george relax his shoulders a little bit. he is more used to you being a person of very few words and emotions. to have you ramble on to him in a shaky voice and watch your lips quiver is enough to make him forget the hurt he was feeling just mere minutes ago.

“i didn’t want to be with you and only have half of my foot in,” you say. “all of those nights i spent with you, they meant everything to me. i loved sleeping over with you in your bed and waking up to the sound of you humming to yourself while your brushed your teeth.

“and i’m just sorry. i’m sorry that i told you it meant nothing. it wasn’t just the sex to me. you’re not just that.” with every word, your frustration grew as you realise how stupid you had been; how careless you were with george’s feelings while trying to protect it. “you’re more than that, i know it.”

you open your mouth to continue your sentence, until you realise that he’s just been staring down at you throughout your whole monologue. this time with a small grin to his face and his cheeks slightly red.

you take a step back and put your hands down to your side. “what i’m trying to say is that i would like to get to know you better.” you clear your throat with a sheepish grin. “if you allow me.”

george, who had been picking on his phone’s exterior, puts it into his pocket. he folds his arms over his chest. “(y/n), even then i knew all your baggage,” he starts with a soft chuckle. “i asked you out on a date despite all that.”

“my conscience never would have been able to live with it.”

“i appreciate it, and i guess your heart was in the right place.” he takes a step forward and engulfs you in a hug, rubbing your arms as a way to convey that he understands. “but i would have let you break my heart over and over again if it meant that i could be the one to have you.”

you lift your head to look up at him. “isn’t that a tad dramatic for how little we know of each other, george?”

george just forcefully pushes your head back into his chest, this time with his hand brushing through your hair.

“i can’t believe you lied to me and broke my heart over something i was already well aware of.”

you tighten your arms around him, fully taking in his embrace. the fact that you’re in the middle of the paddocks as an obstacle to everyone else has not sunken in yet. “i’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

“yes, you will be paying for the first date actually.”

taglist (comment to be added): @scenesofobx

[diaphamin]

#epicfortnitelobby! — random duos tonight

THURSDAY 9:09PM — HAECHAN STREAM

“hey chat, is everyone here?” haechan smiled into the camera, greeting and thanking every donation. “let’s get started huh, random duos night, hope it’s fun— been kind of boring the past couple weeks right?” he laughed.

haechan played with random people every thursday, the people he got paired with ranged from shitty newcomers, to insane super fans. to haechan, it didn’t matter who he got paired with. it was the thrill of finding out what the person would be like he liked the most.

he loaded into the lobby waiting for his duo to arrive next, that’s when your name popped up. “you got a mic, username?” he spoke up getting ready to leave the match if you didn’t talk back, “yeah what’s up!” your voice rang through his ears, “oh shit you scared me!”

“i’m so sorry, it will never happen again.” you giggled out at his reaction, “is your name haechan? or is that just your username.”

“yeah my name is haechan, and yours?” he replied muting his mic to quickly speak to his chat, “i don’t think she knows me, guys.”

“my name is y/n, but you can call me n/n doesn’t matter, hey by the way you aren’t one of those super annoying guys who talk about how amazing at this game they are, right?”

he laughed at your question, “i’m hurt you think of me that way— where are we landing, n/n?” you quickly realized the game had already started, getting distracted by your short introduction, “let’s land here.” you marked a random unnamed spot on the map, “sounds good.”

the two of you landed, quickly gathering a couple guns and stacking up on ammo, and any meds that you needed. “you good on ammo, n/n?” he asked you, “yeah i think i’m set to get out of here.” he hummed in response, muting his mic again, “n/n, is kind of chill guys, what do you think?” he asked his chat.

the comments began to quickly flood with things like

haenings: can you focus on the game or

hcfullsun: perchance

PARKJI: it’s been like 2 seconds how should we know???

bootyliciousjisung77: JISUNG???😍

PARKJI: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“why are you guys so mean to me i was asking a simple question.” he rolled his eyes at the camera, refocusing his attention to his screen, “hey you still there?” he asked you, unmuting himself once more.

“yes, and some help would be greatly appreciated.”

he smiled at your response heading to the random location you ended up in, killing off the remaining people from the squads you were taking on, “oh my knight in shining armor decided to finally show up.” you teased him, picking up the loot from the people he eliminated, “you loot goblin, those were my kills!”

“think of it as compensation, for feeding me to the wolves.”

“nobody told you to run off on your own, dumbass.”

PARKJI: call me a dumbass next, sugar daddy😍

00hae00: JISUNG????

bootyliciousjisung77: ji can you be my sugar daddy?

PARKJI: PLEASE GO AWAY😭

after a while there was only four people remaining, meaning it was you and haechan, versus some other random duo. “i see them!” you spoke up marking the spot on the map you saw the two others at, “cool cool, let’s push it.”

haechan headed over to the area you marked, you following closely behind. quickly spotting the two others camped behind a rock the four of you spammed your guns back and forth until the words, ‘victory royale’ appeared on your screen.

“shit, w’s in the chat.” haechan leaned back in his chair, looking at the words that just appeared on his screen,

PARKJI: WWWWWWWWWW

“that was fun, uh— see you!” you spoke into your mic getting ready to hop off for the night, “wait! can i send you a friend request?” he asked before you had the chance to leave, “oh, sure.”

“cool cool, accept me.”

“i did, see you later haechan.” you said for the last time before turning off your game,

“yeah see you later.”

PARKJI: please don’t give her all your money i need it

0haes: oh but i had to sub for 6 months to get a request

jisuning: 0haes HAHAHAHA

“can you guys relax, this isn’t the first time i’ve done this, why do you always react like that?” he sighed, “let’s load up again.”

ningning222: NING RAID

NING2NING: HI DIVAS 💜

i2ninghae: NING NING RAIDDDD

PARKJI: NING NING

NING2NING: parties over.

“w ningning, you guys are crazy.” he laughed, “hey lebronbuttcheek, you got a mic?”

[previous] — [masterlist] — [next]

yapamin: OMGGGGG THE FIRST CHAPTER IS DONEEEE, sorry if this is shitty i’ve barely written before so my hair was turning grey while writing this. i’m really excited for this guyssssss. i hope you’ll like it as much as i do. love you sm ♡

taglist: open ♡ @sunflowerhae @n0hyuck @catpjimin @222low @robinsluva @selleular @222brainrot @kodasity @dudekiss3r @multifandomania @injunnie-lemon

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 13

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings: Full speed ahead on fic-typical angst train, choo choo bitchessssssssss

A/N: dividers once again by me

series masterlist

chapter 13: last round

Osha loved her apartment complex. She loved its gym. She loved the gym sauna. And she loved that it was just a little bit too small for her to share it comfortably with Qimir.

Their knees pressed against one another the entire time they steamed, all hot sweaty skin and toned muscles sliding against each other.

Oof. Down, girl.

He had her do breath control in places other than the pool and the gym. The sauna proved most difficult to find any meditative peace, especially when the object of her torment unintentionally whipped her mind and heart into a frenzy whenever he moved too quickly.

So her meditative thoughts weren’t centered on mindfulness and her surroundings—they were centered on the exact spot where his thigh touched hers.

Qimir leaned back against the teak bench and winced, gingerly recoiling from the pain. “Are you alright?” she asked.

Earlier, he had some trouble getting out of the pool. She was aware of what was happening, of course—he’d asked the injured parts of his body to do something simple, and they’d protested violently. It was disconcerting to see the muscles spasming beneath his scars, and it looked incredibly painful.

What was more concerning was the absolutely blank face he made while bearing the pain. His jaw wasn’t even tensed like he was fighting through the it—his mind had gone somewhere else entirely.

At Osha’s concern, that blank mask slammed down like security doors.

“Happens,” was all he said about it, and Osha was about to let it go until his spine spoke up. It gave a few concerningly loud clicks and snaps when he leaned back on the bench, and the sound pulled a grimace out of him. “I just pushed it too hard, too fast today. I’ll feel it for a while, but it typically fades in a few hours. The spasms, I mean.”

Now it was Osha’s turn to control her facial expressions. What an absolutely insane thing to say. It wasn’t like his back issues were a secret between them. There was no way of hiding his scars from her, the way there was no way hiding her scars from him. He’d told her part of the story, but she’d flinched when he described the injury and he’d never brought it up again. There was more she didn’t know—more that added to the reasons he kept himself back from going after Vernestra.

How the fuck do you ask somebody about that?

“If I can, I’d like to help.”

He didn’t take her up on it.

“What happens if someone drops from a fight last minute?” she asked on a different day. She was flicking through a textbook on his couch, and he was foam-rolling his upper back.

“Standby fighters. They’re just as hungry for it as the ones scheduled. Moreso, maybe,” he grunted. “It’s different for me. Idise, too, I guess.”

She wanted to ask so many things at once. “How is it different?”

He gave a breathy laugh, humorless. “The real fight is waiting two weeks for the moon to wane.”

“Do you not talk to Idise?” She’d meant it in a, do you not compare experiences for camaraderie? kind of way. His sharp response caught her off guard.

“Not at the moment.” His teeth bit into consonants like a wolf’s jaws snapping around a neck.

Questions racked up like debts in her head, but his agitation told her to tread carefully. There’s something there, something personal. “What’s the hardest part of waiting? Is it the ‘can’t spar ’til the full moon’ rule?”

He shook his head, bending his knees and rolling a little faster than he had been. “It’s those first minutes after a fight. You need to let the fuck go the moment it’s over. You need to let it go—”

He gasped, face going into that blank numb mask for a half-second before he recovered, gritting his teeth.

“Someone told me you’re supposed to breathe while doing that,” she said, exaggeratedly condescending. She hoped her attempt at levity would succeed. Qimir paused, looking up at her in mild surprise. “Take your own advice,  doctor.”

Her heart raced in the five seconds it took for him to obey. He extended one leg, releasing a slow, controlled breath and re-doing the roll with the slow, continuous pressure he needed. His breath shook as he reached where she assumed his pain was deepest. Then he was past it, groaning in relief, filthy and unrestrained. It didn’t escape her notice that he was baring his neck to her—again.

He set the roller to the side, laying flat on his back with his arms spread wide.

“H-how do you let go?” she continued, watching his belly rise and fall slower and slower as he got his heart rate down. He’d been doing that more and more around her, lately.

“A lot of people just keep busy and focus on recovery—”

“No,” she interrupted. He peeked an eye open at her. “How do you let go?”

He turned his head to look at her, eyes tracing every inch of her curled up on his couch. When he got to her eyes, he hummed, biting his lower lip like he had to roll his thoughts around on his tongue to get the flavor right before he spoke. He rolled up into a sitting position, legs crossed as he leaned back on his palms.

She tried her best to meet his gaze, hitting him with his usual one-brow-raised look. He chuckled, shaking himself out of openly admiring her.

His voice was night-dark and thunder-soft. His eyes matched the sentiment, continuing to wander where they wanted. “Before the fight even starts,” he said slowly, “I think of what I want most, something waiting for me outside the cage. Sometimes it’s a shower. Sometimes it’s a drink. Sometimes it’s…” His eyes flicked back up to hers, hawk-sharp. He smirked, baring his teeth and neck in one. “And then, when the fight is over…” His head tilted to the side, that feral creature he kept leashed showing itself. “I ensure there’s nothing in my way between me and what I want.”

Osha’s tongue wasn’t cooperating. Her mind wasn’t cooperating. How could he just say things like that while looking at her like he was going to eat her alive? Her breath came in shallow pants, and she sure looked wanton and ridiculous.

Before she could do anything stupid the timer for their dinner went off, and they returned to reality.

To humanity, more like.

She’d gotten the job at the bar. Kana trained her after Qimir on the days they came to Unplan. Her shifts in the cafe started to dwindle the closer they got to employee evaluation season—from four full shifts per week to three half-shifts ending in early afternoon. She didn’t inform Sol of her new job, but she’d told Mae not to worry about her half of rent when she asked.

Things with Mae had gotten… better. Comparatively. They still had a lot of issues to work through. Osha didn’t know how Mae could “make up for” two years of deception, but her kitchen-table confession helped a lot. Knowing Mae had the capacity to want to do something in response to Vernestra’s misdeeds helped a lot. Things weren’t perfect, but they were, at the very least, talking to each other again.

Sol was a different story. She didn’t know how to confront him about the new developments in her life—she knew now that Sol had been, at best, peripheral to whatever Qimir had gone through at the Temple. At worst, he’d been directly involved. Osha was frightened of figuring out where he stood in that history. Fortunately, she hadn’t seen him enough to confront him.

The same went for Vernestra. She had been exceptionally absent at the Temple, which wasn’t uncommon during competition season prep. She’d taken Jecki and the other competitors on a road trip to the state Open to get everybody ranked. The road trips were a fact of life to Temple members because of Vernestra’s sensitivity to air travel.

Though Sol and Vernestra’s absences relieved Osha, she still felt uncomfortable in the Temple. Mog had been made acting operations manager while things were in flux. Osha would have expected someone like Indara to take the helm, but despite her quiet confidence and solid decision-making skills, she never seemed to want anything to do with joining Temple leadership.

Osha didn’t dwell too much on it, but she still wanted to do something about Qimir’s situation. Something big enough to stick, big enough to matter. But she didn’t have the whole picture yet, and only that awareness stayed her hand.

“Hey,” her stranger said, interrupting her daydreaming. She blinked her eyes back into focus, frowning a little as she recentered. “Where’d you go?”

“About a hundred miles away,” Osha sighed. She continued doing her warm-ups. “Sorry.”

“Well, if you come down from the stars, I’ve got news for you. We’re sparring today.”

Her jaw dropped. “Sparring?”

“Yeah, ever heard of it?”

Osha’s insecuriity reared its head for the first time in a long time. “Are you sure?” she said on impulse, wanting to kick herself for it. She sighed, wanting to eat the words after she’d spoken them.

But Qimir seemed to expect it. He simply nodded, not bothering to ignore or overindulge her reflexive self-doubt. “You’re ready. We’ll do warmups, some HIIT, get you on a bag for some form work, and then—I want to see you dance.”

“What, was last Saturday not good enough for you?” she shot back, folding herself into a deep stretch and turning her head to look at him. His gaze was dark even in the dim lighting of the dressing room.

“Last Saturday was many things; good enough is at the milder end of the descriptions I’d use.”

After re-taping her leg, he took her hand in his, a familiar length of black fabric in his other hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this, I won’t lie.”

Osha let her hands soften for him as he wrapped her left hand and wrist with slow, methodical motions. She’d seen him wrap his hands before at something approaching the speed of light, so for him to work so carefully with her was… well, different. 

When he finished both hands, he inspected her fists, telling her to flex her fingers a few times to test for good circulation. His eyes bounced up to her face once he was satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

The praise was surely meant for himself, his work with the wraps, but she couldn’t help the silly little smile that came to her face.

Downstairs, he had her use one of the body-opponent bags after the first half of their session. The plasticky face and rubber body wiggled just from their approach. “Let’s test your anatomy knowledge. One-one-two to the solar plexus.”

He stood just behind the bag to watch her strikes come in as he called them. He grinned at her like she’d done something incredible—not something she’d been doing since childhood. He ran her through different combinations, but by the end, he let her do what she wanted, as long as she hit harder, harder, harder.

The force he wanted broke her out of her typical stance. She couldn’t get it right when she held herself so rigid and bladed. Still, he didn’t technically tell her to drop the boxer’s stance she was used to. She had to drop it herself.

And when she did…

When she hit with all the strength she’d been holding back for years…

He nearly lost his grip on the bag.

It tilted dangerously to the side, but he didn’t let it fall. He righted it and shouted in excitement, slapping the rubber head with a burst of energy. “Atta-fuckin-girl! There we go. How’s that feel?”

Osha breathed hard, hands still up in a loose block. “Feels good,” she gasped. “Real good.”

He grinned madly at her. “You’re perfect. Perfect. Let’s go again. Build up to it. Let’s see some kicks, too.”

Osha wasn’t as familiar with using her legs as she was with her hands, but he’d taught her what to do, how to hold herself and channel power into her kicks. The praise came faster now.

Good kick. Same place. Again.

Fuck yes. Don’t stop, show me.

C’mon. That’s it. Good girl.

Ooh, that’s a rib-breaker. Love it. Do it again.

Attagirl. Attagirl.

(And a few times, but it could have been the bloodrush warping it: that’s my girl.)

Over and over until she was drunk on it.

He had an invisible pull on her, one she couldn’t help but follow to the sparring mats. “Alright, let’s see it.”

Facing off against him was a different fucking universe than facing off against a bag. He wouldn’t praise her for getting good hits in on him, would he? She hesitated, the first time he’d seen her do so.

“What is it?” he said, dropping his stance and coming closer. She didn’t retreat from his approaching form but kept her hands up.

“It’s just. Shit, I haven’t sparred in actual months. I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” he said, tilting his head to the side. Even with his silly mouthguard in, his smile was charming.

She narrowed her eyes and swung at him.

After the first few surprised blocks from her quick hands, he barked a laugh and started swiping at her as well. But Osha wasn’t a wet-eared rookie; she won those junior championships from being hard to hit.

They blocked and ducked one another for a while, each assessing the other’s defenses. Osha’s fighting style was limited to boxing and a handful of kicks, but he knew so many fighting disciplines that he exhibited them to college students. If he wanted to defeat her, he would.

It was clear he was toying with her after a while. When he reacted to her stumbling with a pointed little hmm, she swung a messy left hook right at his head—which he caught in his hand.

She was so surprised by his reflexes that she only remembered to react after he’d kissed her knuckles. While the gesture thrilled her, it was equally adept at annoying the everloving fuck out of her.

In her head, a new voice chimed in, hungry and snarling from the pit of a coliseum. It was a voice she hadn’t heard since she was twenty years old, stepping into the ring in Bestine.

Win.

She went on the offensive, practically screaming through her exhales as she attacked. Her knuckles ached from the amount of times she hit his forearms, but then—

Then—

A wicked look gleamed in his eyes, and his leg shot out to try and kick at hers—

She shifted like the wind around a mountain and slugged him in the jaw so hard it rattled her teeth.

The impact stunned both of them—she could feel her own surprise, but he had to blink the dazed expression off his face. It was replaced by something a lot darker, something she was sure he preferred to hide behind that ghastly mask upstairs. “Attagirl,” he rasped.

“Are you oka—shit!” Osha went on the defensive as he came at her, punches and kicks going everywhere at once. Her tiny buzz of victory zipped away, leaving only the mild hum of panic from getting caught on the back foot. He jabbed her in the ribs when she let her guard slip on the left, sending all the air whooshing from her lungs. Bending double, she retreated a few steps, recalculating her strategy.

She focused her attack on his legs. He kept trying to correct his balance, continually going off-center with his chest-thrown punches. Osha struck out like a viper with her right leg, and he was sent sprawling onto his back, arms splayed wide. While she loomed above him, he only grinned. “Thath’ma girl,” he said around the mouthguard—sweet sentiment, lacking execution.

“Are we still sparring, or are you just running your mouth?” she panted, already working to get her breathing under control.

He laughed and winked at her before tapping the mat twice, signaling they were done. She offered him a hand up, and almost fucking dropped him at the sound of applause.

She hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering, too focused on Qimir and trying not to get her shit rocked. The audience seemed to think they were very entertaining, whistling and chattering in excitement. 

Someone would try to step in if they saw the new girl sparring with the scary guy during the down-weeks.

Yeah, well, the new girl just put the scary guy on his ass.

An inkling of pride threatened to seep into her mind. Osha allowed herself one modest compliment: she held her own fairly well, considering how long she’d been out of the game.

“How does it feel?” Qimir asked when they were alone again. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” He was still smiling—hadn’t stopped since she punched him.

Maniac.

She did a quick assessment of herself, now that the adrenaline had somewhat abated. With her heartbeat under control, she could make out the… 

Well, the pain was… 

She frowned.

“I’m… I feel fine?”

“You sound confused. Or disappointed.”

“I feel the soreness and the effort, but—there’s no pain. I think the worst is my hand.”

He rubbed at his jaw, a satisfied smile on his face. “Yeah, your poor hand.”

Something came over Osha, and she reached up to get his hand away from his face. A bruise bloomed there, bright pink and darkening by the minute. “This won’t get you in trouble at the college?”

He stood very still as she looked him over. His eyes were half-lidded and shadowed in the dressing room lights, and she wished they were back in the gym downstairs, where the presence of other people more easily suppressed her do-something-stupid impulse.

“They know I work out at a fighting gym. I don’t sit in board meetings more than twice a year. And the students won’t ask.” He raised a hand to wrap gently around her wrist, as secure as the black wraps had been. “Osha,” he murmured. It made her stop fussing. “I’ll be okay. If anything, I can say someone kneed me in the face while I was doing an assisted stretch.”

How specific. “That happen a lot?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. He changed his grip on her wrist. “Now let me see your hand.”

He tenderly unwrapped her right hand. Her knuckles were blushed pink, her middle finger an angry red that she rarely saw with her hands in gloves all the time. He pressed his thumbs into her knuckles, walking them all over as he watched her reaction. “Hm?”

“It’s fine,” Osha said again. He nodded and didn’t look away as he pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her reddened knuckles—just like he’d done a moment before she punched the hell out of his jaw. Osha felt light-headed as he held the kiss. “You…”

“Me?” he asked.

“What about you?”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

His smile curled against her hand. “I don’t think I hit you in the head…”

She rolled her eyes and broke away to change in the bathroom. “You’re obnoxious, stranger.”

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke.

“You can call me Qimir, you know. Out loud.”

His voice was soft, almost too soft for her to hear. She leaned back against the wall, face turned to the doorway. “But do you want to be called Qimir?”

She heard him come closer, and saw his shadow mirror how she was standing, just on the other side of the wall. She was tempted to reach for him around the doorframe.

“If it’s you,” he said.

“You want me to call you Qimir?”

Would you really choose ‘stranger’ as a name for yourself?

No.

“I told you before, you can call me whatever you want. But I hear you pause when you want to say my name. I want you to say my name.”

Her face heated near to feverish. She remembered how Mae had said his name that first time. I need to ask you if all this, all the lashing out, was done on purpose because you wanted to train with Qimir. She’d sounded so hateful, which had been almost as confusing as learning her stranger had a name at all.

“Then I’ll say your name… Qimir.”

To her surprise, his hand came around the doorframe, open and offering. She grabbed it without hesitation. “Thank you,” he said roughly, squeezing her hand once before letting go.

It took her a second to confront her reflection in the mirror, but when she did, she looked resolved and centered.

It was on the day of the new moon that Indara spoke to her.

“Osha, can I have a word?”

She looked up from where she was doing inventory with Tasi. Indara stood on the other side of the counter, having snuck up without Osha seeing.

“I’ve got this,” Tasi said, waving her on.

Yord didn’t give her any grief as she walked a half-step behind Indara to one of the dusty storage rooms at the Temple. Indara could have chosen one of the unoccupied offices or even asked to speak with her outside, so Osha figured this was just a convenient private place for a tense conversation.

She waited patiently for Indara to speak.

“You haven’t been in classes.”

Osha considered engaging in the awkward small talk for a few seconds before she shook her head. “You know why.”

It wasn’t a matter of not having time or availability or even access to classes. Indara knew well that Osha could take her classes at sunrise, but she also knew Osha’s life had shifted pulls—from the unforgiving orbit around a cold sun to a faster, more thrilling one centered on the moon.

“But you are still training? It’s not good to stay away from activity no matter how long it’s been since your injury.”

Ah.

Indara was often overlooked in the training cadre at the Temple. Her classes were the earliest, and according to scheduling statistics had some of the lowest sign-ups of the gym. The people who learned from her were fiercely loyal, however—they’d spent decades at the Temple, training specifically for the sunrise offerings.

Because of that, not many of the competitive and elite fighters had the opportunity to see how truly brilliant she was in the art.

Osha’s childhood memories of taking her classes were warm and welcoming in a time where pain was a more constant companion than Mae. Indara was attentive in a way Sol was not. His frenetic compassion overwhelmed Osha at every turn, but Indara’s quiet faith in her ability to master herself made it easier to accept the bumps in the road.

After Bestine, however, there’d been a switch: Indara began hounding Osha on practically everything—classes, shifts at the cafe, learning to repair equipment. Looking back on it, it probably kept her from being fired or cast out from the Temple. She’d been in a deep depression after the injury, one that most members preferred to ignore. Indara hadn’t let up even after the days got brighter, laying into her for not being on time, for being a good example, for trying her best.

If Indara’s training was one end of the spectrum and Sol’s was the other, Qimir’s style was nowhere close to either. She preferred it.

“I haven’t been inactive,” Osha hedged, feeling slightly hypocritical for demanding Indara be upfront about what she wanted but quailing at the first sign of admission.

“Have you been training on your own?”

“Indara, please just say what you want to say. I know you know something and I’m not going to pry it out of you.”

She looked mildly amused by Osha’s sass until she got serious. “I know it’s not against policy to train at other gyms, but I care about your safety. I wanted to ensure you’re training somewhere safe, with someone safe.”

There it was.

“Mae already tried giving me the spiel,” Osha bit out. “And I didn’t like her doublespeak, either. Be direct or I’m not telling you a thing.”

A stillness she recognized from Qimir’s breathing routines radiated outward from Indara like a beacon. She only now understood what that stillness meant: conviction.

“Qimir Loharne is a dangerous man, Osha.”

Even though she’d asked for it, hearing someone say his name in the Temple was a shock. Indara went on.

“He is a known, proven antagonist of the Temple and carries personal vendettas against most people here, chief of whom are Vernestra and your father.” Something in her voice hesitated around the last word like she hadn’t meant to mention Sol.

Osha stayed quiet.

“In the years since—his departure,” she said carefully, “he was heavily involved in the city’s criminal underworld—the Hutt gang, in particular.”

I got mixed up with people that normally don’t let you leave once you’re in. I did a lot of fucked-up things to get out.

“Your assessment of him is outdated,” Osha said. “And cut the shit about his departure. You all threw him out like garbage after he sustained a horrific injury. You think I wouldn’t empathize?”

Indara’s shame was clear as day. She bowed her head to Osha’s judgment. “You’re right,” she said in a whisper.

“Why paint him as the villain when he’s clearly the victim, then?”

Gathering herself, Indara set her jaw. “When he got out of the hospital, he began harassing members at the gym, calling them and cursing them out until his voice went hoarse. There are recordings of it. There are at least two police reports regarding property damage showing an attempted breaking and entering. There were times he would trespass and intimidate the other members until police were called.”

Osha knew Indara wouldn’t say all that unless she had it on good authority—firsthand or otherwise.

“Vernestra hired a private investigator to keep an eye on him, but after he joined the ranks for the Hutts, she lost track of him. There were reports of more intimidation incidents, larceny and assault here and there. Illegal fighting rings.”

She kept her face very, very still. Did Indara know about Unknown Planet?

“When she told Vernestra he’d fallen off the map, the private investigator didn’t want anything else to do with it. Gave Vernestra the third degree about what she was doing, too. I assumed once things got quiet, Vernestra was satisfied with wherever Qimir had gone.

“I was incorrect. Recently, I found several things that disturbed me. First, that Mae was training with him. You know I reported seeing them together to Vernestra. Then, months later, I found out she’d been encouraged to continue seeing him despite the negative influence a man like that would have on a member of the Temple. And lastly, I found out that Vernestra had attempted to pin the news on you long after the fact.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’ve tried to put a stop to her abhorrent treatment toward you as much as I can. Given the circumstances, I fear further association with Qimir Loharne will only complicate matters—for you, for your sister, for the entire Temple.”

“What circumstances are you talking about?” Osha asked.

Panic flared in Indara’s body language like smoke off a campfire. Osha continued her attack.

“Why are you telling me this? And why now? You’ve had weeks since Vernestra accused me of that.”

Indara shifted, taking a deep breath to center herself. “I know. I tend to overthink matters that I know the answers to in each moment. This was one of them. It was a mistake to hold back this long, but looking back, there was no opportunity to speak to you safely.”

Osha wagered a guess that she meant I couldn’t talk to you without Vernestra getting suspicious, so I had to wait until she was gone.

“Then what were you waiting so long to say? Were you just trying to warn me off of seeing him?” Mae had tried that and earned Osha’s ire for a week. To someone like Indara, that grudge had a lot more potential mileage.

“I’ve known him since he was thirteen years old. He was a very angry child with something to prove, and in his years in the ring, he was a reckless fighter, if skilled and dedicated. He was driven by the need to win, to overpower his opponents. That wrath never abated, and I fear it was only worsened by the events that transpired.”

“And he’s in his thirties now, and doesn’t want anything to do with the Temple.”

Osha was aware she was admitting her involvement, but at this point didn’t care. She wouldn’t stand here and let Indara talk shit about him just because of her decade-old perceptions of him.

“Then why would he want to train with Mae? She wouldn’t have kept it a secret, where her loyalties lie.”

She didn’t have an answer for that. Mae’s paranoia crept back in.

I mean, it makes sense, right? He’d use one of the inside members to finally get his revenge or whatever. And it worried me when he started paying attention to you, and I don’t know what’s going on, but he still might be trying to use one of us to—

“He wouldn’t do that. He has—” too much to lose. “He has a life outside of Vernestra’s influence and wants it to stay that way.”

“Unfortunately, your involvement with him prevents that from being possible.”

She reeled back as if struck. “What the hell?”

“You two are… so alike.” Indara watched her carefully. “And it’s tragic that Vernestra knew that all along.” The regret in her tone unsettled Osha, but Indara moved on before she could explain further. “You asked me why I told you now. It’s because something has to give, Osha.

“Qimir Loharne has the motivation and the capacity to destroy not only Vernestra but the Temple and a whole group of important people involved. Vernestra is aware of that, and has been for a very long time.”

She knows if I exposed what she did, it’d destroy her. It’d destroy the Temple, and probably take down another three dozen conspirators who sought to keep things hushed up.

“She has dedicated tens of thousands of dollars into countless security additions to the gym to protect against him specifically. She’s now convinced your sister to join in her machinations, and I don’t want to see you get sucked into this dark net with the rest of us. You should not play her game, Osha. She would rather break the rules than let anybody win but her. She’s already done so, a hundred times over without anyone knowing.”

“What did she do to him? This isn’t the behavior of someone fearing for their livelihood. This is paranoia. This is guilt. He was just a kid she trained—”

“He… wasn’t.”

“What?”

Indara took a few rough swallows and tried to center herself. “He wasn’t just a kid she trained. He was—she fostered him for almost four years.”

Osha took a staggering step back. The doom felt like it was tilting on its axis. “Fostered him?”

Indara spoke quickly. “After the Padawan program started, Vernestra felt she lucked out with Qimir as her student. He showed so much talent, so much potential—and she wanted then what she wants now. Recognition. Accolades. Awards. Champions. And she fast-tracked the fostering paperwork so he could live here full-time and—”

“Here?!” Osha hissed. “He lived at the Temple?”

“Keep your voice down,” Indara insisted. “Yes. I don’t know how it all happened, but Vernestra has friends in high places. Some, very high.” She gestured to a dusty file box marked, MAYOR’S CUP SIGNAGE.

“No kidding—wait, you’re saying the mayor is involved in this?”

“Not the current one,” she said, shaking her head. “Rayencourt doesn’t like Vernestra. But the previous mayor, the one Rayencourt beat in the last election, he was in Vernestra’s pocket. That’s a different story, though. She only fostered him so she could take him to tournaments and competitions across the state—she wanted to travel with him past state lines and even out of the country, but that would have required her to formally adopt him.”

She took a deep breath. “Did he know that was why Vernestra ado—fostered him?”

Indara signed. “I don’t know. I hope not. But anybody who knows Vernestra knows she’s an ambitious opportunist—a venture capitalist.”

“Yes, but with people?” Osha protested. “This is—how come this isn’t everywhere?”

“There’s… there are a lot of reasons for that, Osha. There were witnesses to his injury, and all of them—all of us,” she swallowed down her pride, “had to keep things quiet or else we’d all go down together.”

Osha was disgusted. “You clearly don’t approve.”

“When I signed that NDA, I’d just gotten back from ten hours of waiting in a hospital room to see if Qimir lived through his surgery.” The flare of emotion beneath her words told Osha she was serious. “They were… they wouldn’t let me leave if I didn’t. And if I ever broke it after… the consequences were and are enough to keep my mouth shut.”

“It’s not shut now.”

“No. It’s not. And I may have made the wrong decision then, but I won’t make it now. Not when I see it happening again—with you.”

“Me? I don’t even compete.”

“Vernestra considers you a blemish on her image. She sees you as a wildcard she can’t control. After your injury, she went through the same motions as she’d done before—scrubbing your image from signage that represented the Temple, doctoring news results of your injury and your involvement in the gym.

“Qimir had much less coverage, which made it easier to erase his name from anything that could come back to her, but not everything.” Osha nodded. She’d found the two news articles. “And I said there were witnesses. But his injury wasn’t in front of a crowd in Bestine.”

Osha flexed her hands in and out of fists on her knees. “What happened, Indara?”

“How much has he told you about what happened?”

Under her watch, a spar went very wrong, and—

T6, T7, T12, L1—

“I know it’s serious enough that it affects him to this day,” she hedged. She didn’t want to give Indara anything that she could use against her—or Qimir.

Osha’s defensiveness seemed to make Indara aware of something, eyes shifting to the door. “We might have been in here for too long,” she said. 

“We’re fine.”

“No, really. The walls have ears and eyes.”

Osha felt like screaming in frustration. How could Indara just cut things off like that? There were so many unanswered questions it felt like she was drowning in uncertainty. “So what do you want me to do? You’re not getting away with telling me just part of the story.”

“I have to be careful, Osha. The NDA is very specific about what will happen to me if it gets out that I broke it. And I have broken it to tell you what I have, even if you think I’ve told you very little.” Indara took a deep breath, looking between Osha and the door. “I’m typically free in the early evenings. You have my number.”

Evenings—when she trained with Qimir. Would she have to keep this from him? Indara sounded like she was there when he was injured—that’d be enough to hold a grudge against her. Perhaps she should wait until she knew more before bringing it to Qimir. He’d been quite upset when she told him about what Mae said last Saturday.

“Alright. But—Indara, I haven’t signed the NDA, and I’d be able to actually do something. To make this right.” Osha came closer. “I want to set things right. I don’t want to destroy the Temple, but if there’s justice that needs doing, then… I need to pursue it.”

Indara’s relief seemed strained. “I know you do. And I was hoping you would. In the meantime, I need you to act like everything is business as normal. I don’t believe Vernestra knows you’re training with him, and we need to keep it that way.”

“I’m—” She was about to deny it, reflexively covering her ass, but stopped. Indara had shared the truth, and she owed it from Osha as well. “I can do that,” she said slowly.

“If Vernestra does question you about him, act like you despise him if she backs you into a corner. Lie as little as possible. Play the game to make it look like she’s winning, Osha.”

She nodded, feeling a little nauseous as a million different ideas twirled around in her head to sell the ruse.

“Another thing—practically every member of the gym over 30 has signed an NDA of some sort. You cannot trust any of them not to report you for snooping around.”

“Not even Sol?” she said, feeling the weight of this responsibility close over her head like the lid of a coffin.

Indara froze, closing her eyes tightly. “Especially Sol,” she whispered. “Especially him.” She left the room without another word, leaving Osha alone in the quiet.

She checked her phone the moment she got in her car after work. She’d done well distracting herself after talking to Indara by doing odd, unwanted jobs around the cafe. It only temporarily staved off the looming dread and anxiety; there was no keeping it away forever.

Kana had texted her four times in a row just a few minutes before her shift ended, most likely knowing she’d see them quickly.

K: last minute but we might need you on swing for fights

K: 2hr before 2hr after 2x pay lots of tips :)

K: you also get free admission to fights :)))

K: it’s short notice but I promise we won’t throw you to the wolves lol

O: 2x pay sounds NOICE.

O: I’ll be there at 7 with bells on :)))

Oh no. Fight night.

She would have to face Qimir after all Indara had said—his involvement with gangs, the other attacks on the Temple he hadn’t disclosed. The fact he was Vernestra’s foster child. There was no fucking way she could keep it together if he asked what was wrong.

She couldn’t tell him what she knew. He had an eleven-month winning streak to defend and didn’t need more emotional trauma following him into the cage.

It’s not healthy to let myself think about returning to that mindset again.

Osha had to do this on her own. She had to find a way to expose Vernestra and whoever else was involved, so Qimir could live the quiet life he wanted.

Speaking of the devil.

?: I know you’re on shift right now, but would you like to ride to Unplan together tonight? I’m there early on new moons, so you might be bored while waiting.

?: But I want to see you.

She felt her heart soar in her chest, a welcome ache after all the despair from earlier. It strengthened her resolve to defend him, to go to whatever lengths she had to in order to help him. He was kind and considerate and—

O: Kana just asked me to work swing shift :(

His response came immediately, like he’d been waiting for her text even though he’d sent his more than an hour before.

?: Did you say yes?

O: Yeah

O: Money’s money

?: Swing still lets you watch the fights.

O: Bold to assume I want to watch u fight.

?: Can you blame me?

O: Yes

O: Often

?: Did you still want a ride?

O: Do u get there before 7

?: I do.

?: About heart hours early to first match.

God damn it. Despite the weight of all that had been said, Osha blushed and leaned back against the door, biting her lip to suppress a smile.

O: That could work……

?: I will wait until your shift is over as well.

O: Go on…

?: And I’ll buy you a drink.

O: What, u need me to drive u home after u get ur ass kicked?

?: If that’s what you want.

“The fuck does that mean?” she whispered, starting her car.

?: I’ll come by at 6:30.

O: I’ll see u then~

?: Attagirl.

CHAPTER 14

[fastboatsmojito]

i've returned . cus i want some debbie smut for the love of god (i would do anything for emma frfr)

❛ want me to model these for you? ❜ + 18) complicated sex with an ex — do with this what you will my friend 🫡

mwah -🐁

WHY OF COURSE ! Anything for Mouse <3

“Want me to model these for you?” From this smutty dialogue list + 18 - complicated sex with an ex from this smutty prompt list for my 100 followers party !

| a/n; Debbie gallagher they could never make me hate you

| cw; 18+ smut btc Complicated feelings of course, a splash of angst, face-sitting my fault, lingerie, a little sexting at the beginning <3

| wc; 592

You were surprised to say the least, blinking back confusion and sleep when you woke up to a text from your not-so-recent ex. You hadn’t talked in a few weeks but it wasn’t necessarily on purpose, you both just needed some space.

Still sleepy when you opened it, your mouth falling open at the picture in front of you; Only her neck down to her ribs on display as she laid on her bed, adorned in the prettiest lacy, red teddy you’d ever seen.

You turned your phone off quickly, assuming it was a mistake, meant for someone else. Of course she was allowed to see other people, but that didn’t stop the sting you felt at the thought of anyone else seeing her like that.

After a minute of contemplation you decided to text back, swallowing your pride to ask if it was meant for you. She didn’t answer, instead replying with a question of her own ‘can I come over?’ proceeded with a swift knock at your door, she never was one for patience.

Maybe you were never meant to be apart, or maybe being surrounded by her again was just clouding your brain. Whatever the case, you couldn’t possibly expect yourself to worry about that now, guided by her hands on your shoulders to sit on your bed as she took something out of her bag.

“Debbie, should we talk? I mean, I’m not complaining but this is kind of out of the blue-“ She hushed you with a simple tilt of her head, holding out the same red teddy you saw earlier in front of her.

“We can talk later, don’t you want me to model this for you?” And how could you possibly say no to that, nodding your head and feeling your mouth water as she unabashedly undressed in front of you.

You figured you’d died and gone to heaven, mouth parted as she sauntered over to you, red lace guiding your hands to her hips as she sat over you.

“I missed you, you know?” She confessed, mouth just next to your ear, and truth be told you missed her too - throwing on the jacket she’d left the last time she came over whenever you were feeling lonely.

“I missed you too.” A whisper, certainly more pathetic sounding that you meant it to be, though she did always seem to bring that out of you.

“Yeah?” She asked, knuckles resting sweetly against your cheek as you looked up at her, nodding and bring your lips to her own.

She nudged you back towards the bed, intertwining her fingers with your own as you laid down. You wanted to tell her, give her a peek into your mind and just how much you had really missed her, but you could never find the words. Instead running your hands over her body, letting the lace grace your fingertips until you found the hem above her thigh, deciding that showing her was far easier.

She seemed to agree, blissfully leaning into your touch, fingers lacing into your hair as you pulled her closer until she was hovering right above your mouth. You missed her but you couldn’t deny missing this just as bad if you tried, nose against her inner thigh, moving the thin red fabric out of your way and finally guiding her onto your mouth.

The sounds falling from her own, her hand still in yours, the warmth of her above you, taking a break from all of this sounded fucking insane to you now.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[maxellminidisc]

You know I think people are a lil harsh on Heartstopper. I think the issue I actually have with it is adults framing it like its something for them and rallying behind it like it was also made for them and then holding it up as a pinnacle of gay media when they're not the very obvious demographic it was made for aka teenagers. Not to mention so many of these adults are rather unwilling to explore decades worth of gay media and art for some reason, which is where that overconfident posturing comes from. Like I dont think we'd be having as much of a conversation on it had it not been for adults on social media acting like it was high gay art, or worse harassing its young actors.

Like I watched it cause my niece watched it while babysitting, she's 13 and has just begun questioning and figuring out who she is and she enjoyed it. I was fine that she did and I was so confused why the show is so fraught over when it seemed liked at worst just very safe content, which for its demographic is fine! Like it's not anything worth rallying against, nor is it like insanely earth shattering. It's just a show that tries to talk to teenagers at a level they can gauge, it's very like family friendly fair and the most I could say was that at the very least it was nice that gay kids had something that simple and sweet at that age.

It is very much a fantasy that I think a lot of gay people who are older (and sure, even some teenagers) can't always relate to because essentially there is a sort of emphasis on an adult support system that a lot of us cant relate to, but I dont think its necessarily bad to hope that that IS the future for younger generations. But in general its only issue is being saccharine, but like that's the point, it's for kids...

RWRB on the other hand IS a problem, because it's an unapologetic white liberal fantasy for young adults, it's about people in families with positions of power being insufferably glib including such an instance being water boarding jokes all for the sake of pretty badly written romance.

Like there are those that argue that it too serves as escapism and romance fantasy for gay people so its use of politics is allowed to be weak. But like the book literally centers politics in its romance, politics is central to the romance plot, politics and the over exposure it brings is one of the "roadblocks" for its main couple. The election of the Latino leads mom is a big moment in the book. Like there are so many points where the politics and its consequences further the plot, only it's used conveniently and then shelved until conflict is necessary again. Its also odd to me that it's supposed to be set in an alternative universe america yet so much is unchanged about the actual world including politics outside of the mom (remember when they had to edit that section about Isreal out lol). I think again, the use of that is once again so lazy.

Saying romance can't have well thought out plot devices because romance is romance is so absurd to me because GOOD romance has to be well thought out and well written like any other genre. And to act like this book is the only lgbt fiction that ever existed worth reading is so wild to me, theres decades worth of lgbt romance novels; I've read TONS with a variety of subjects, themes, characters, etc that were MUCH better. Like again all it amounts to is the most insufferable artistically exploratory lazy types being way too loud and wrong about something that isn't remotely worth the hype.

I think if you really sit down and compare the actual media itself, Heartstopper (the show at least, I've never read the comics; I have read the other novel in question here) is the much more forgivable of the two, because its only crime is the wrong demographic running off with it sinddkkdkdksks

[ambalambs]

Okay another question! Tell me a little bit about each member of Miko's adopted family and his relationships with each of them please! <3

Okie dokie! Gonna toss this one under a cut too in case I get carried away again lol also kinda nervous to share info on basically npcs ive made for my oc but we're gonna choose to ignore the cringe in this house!

Okay so first since ive already talked a bit about her before is miko's adopted mom. Her name is Fiona u3u she's the rock of the household obviously. She keeps the kids and even her husband in line but she is so so compassionate. Her grandfather was an instrument maker and he'd play them too so she was raised around music which miko was very fortunate to stumble on a family that had that kind of background (perhaps there were some higher power at play there that guided him to this specific family. We may never know lol) she and miko get along sooo well he adores his mom. She's had to drag him around by the ear a few times tho while he was growing up lol but she has always been very good at reading him which when it comes to miko who is master at hiding his pain, she was always the first one to be like nuh uh come talk to me lol

Next is his dad, Brynstan. Miko's mom always lovingly calls him Bryn for short. Miko's dad is a good and simple guy. He's just a farmer lol he'd much rather not think about what's going on in the rest of the crazy world and only focus on his crops and chocobo and family. It took him a bit to really figure out how to be with miko when he was a kid. Like he came to love him a lot and seeing him as his own son but there were a lot of "what am I even doing" moments for him. But miko was always the biggest help to him around the farm and never complained and always found silly ways to make him smile. Their relationship is good of course but there's like this shadow over them I think that they both have always felt that for miko its like "You're my dad and I love you but you aren't the dad that I was supposed to need" if that makes sense? Considering the situation of Miko's real dad was always left as a mystery. But still his adopted dad is a really good guy who only ever did his very best by him ;u;

Now for his siblings lol his little brother's name is Dustan and oh boy are he and miko a pair. They would constantly tease and pester each other. Dustan would always get a kick out of pulling miko's tail or blowing on his ears to make them flick and just drive miko insane lol they never got into any serious fights tho it was just lots of brother teasing. Dustan was just a toddler when miko joined the family and was the one who actually coined the name miko for him. His little kid talk would try to say miqote but itd just come out as miko and so he'd just pitter patter around the house after miko repeating mikomikomiko over and over until it just became a thing lol miko just kinda accepted it since it seemed well enough to have a new name for a new life. But now that his brother is older they still tease each other but just not as much. Deep down dunstan kinda has a bit of nervousness around him since his big brother is now some big crazy super hero wol out there killing gods. Probably wouldn't be wise to pull the tail of a guy with that kind of power anymore, which miko notices that a bit in him but he tries to not let it bother him and tries to act like things are the same as they always were between them.

And lastly he has a little sister named Bayla. She was born not long after miko was taken in so miko has been there a part of her life since day one. And oh gosh she is just precious. Definitely has her mom's temperament but she is super gentle and has a bit of an adventurer's heart in finding wonder in everything she encounters in the world. She definitely looks up to miko a lot and she'd follow him around like a little duckling when they were kids. And miko was so good with her, he would braid her hair and put flowers in it, he'd let her follow him out on his little ventures in the woods and teach her all the things he learned from his miqo'te tribe and teach her songs and just all sorts of things. They were bestest buddies and she definitely took it the hardest in the family when he decided to leave and explore the world. Every time they get a letter from miko tho she's the first to rush into the house and excitedly beg their mom to read it outloud to the family lol him being the wol is the coolest thing to her, except the moments when she hears the stories of the really awful things he's had to fight from people in town spouting his legends. Its hard for her to know if its true or not when miko doesn't include some of those tales in his letters. She won't admit it tho but she is a teensy bit jealous of the twins cuz they get to adventure with her brother and why can't she gosh darnnit! She has half a mind to join the adventurers guild herself so she can go with him but her mom keeps trying to stop her lol she's still too young for that. But anyway I've rambled off about her a lot more than the others oops but yeah she and miko are super close and he misses and thinks about her a lot ;u;

Also just as an aside miko and his siblings would sometimes hang out in his room way past their bedtime and play triple triad. Theyd get scolded every time they got caught xD

But yeah thats the family! I hope that was kinda the info you were looking for. Its probably not terribly exciting since they're honestly just a very simple family living in a quiet spot out in gridania territory. For miko when he comes home after some of his adventures its always kinda jarring for him cuz its almost like time stands still there for him, not much changes except his siblings getting older. Miko does worry a lot tho that any enemies he's made out there will find out about them and come back and hurt them to get to him so he does try to keep as little information about them as possible from reaching the public eye.

[darkstalker1247]

Hydraulics AU: Part 9

This was strange. 

Steve’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Here was this giant creature who’d been feral even minutes before and was suddenly tame, curled up in the corner, away from him, as well as another person talking to him. What was this place? He’d just seen another world that looked like it was made of paper mache, and he looked and felt like a zombie. Even this strange new person he was talking to looked somewhat human, despite the whole being made of ink thing. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, however, so Steve rationalized to trust him for now. After all, he’d gotten him out of what he now described to be a literal hell hole. 

“I know you probably have a lot of questions,” Sammy breathed. “Lucky for us, the gentleman who runs this place stocked up plenty of ink and paper, so ask away.” He set a piece of paper on the floor in front of Steve; their only way of communicating. Steve pondered over what he should ask first. After a moment, he scrawled one particular question he settled on:

What happened to you?

Sammy went quiet after reading it. He rubbed his fingers together; Steve figured he’d struck a nerve. After a long silence, Sammy spoke up. “I wasn’t exactly forced into this, not at first.”

“It started off normal. I was antisocial as per usual, kicking everyone out of my department as soon as I could, just trying to get some peace and quiet. Those songs of mine never wrote themselves, after all. They started giving me a new type of ink to write with, and after the Machine was put in, we’d get trapped in the department sometimes. The ink would overflow and block the exit. Our boss’ answer was more distractions for me, which only made my work harder and my mind spiral more often than usual. It’s always been a problem, but it got just that much worse after… after the Ink Demon was made.” He paused for a moment, glancing at Bendy itself, who was seemingly alert, watchful. Then he continued. “I started hearing voices. They told me to do things I’m not proud of, like drinking that.” He paused again, this time pointing at the little inkwell sitting next to the paper in front of him. “It only made things worse. Not only did the voices come and go, I swore I started seeing things. Normal things for people around the studio, but I was seeing them in my sleep. I used to joke about how Bendy and his little cartoon friends would drive me insane…” 

The Demon snapped its head in their direction, recognizing its name. The two ignored it. “It got to the point where I was convinced that the Ink Demon was some kind of god, and that I needed to appease it in some way. When the Cycle ended up starting, I decided to try some kind of sacrifice. I basically screamed at the ceiling until I’d finally caught its attention, but when I tried to get it to accept a few people I’d stumbled upon as an offering, it just pushed me into the ink.” He moved his mask out of the way of his face and pressed his hand to his forehead. “It was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake. Susie warned me about getting too deep into my work…” 

Sammy had stopped, rubbing his head and trying to calm himself. He seemed finished with his story. Steve was very confused. Sammy’d mentioned some names that Steve recognized without knowing how or why. The Machine, the Cycle, even the name Susie was very familiar. He had a picture of the Machine in his mind; it was complex on the inside but had a simple purpose, to create an endless supply of ink. Strange. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say next, so he simply wrote underneath the question: I’m sorry. Sammy stared at this expression of sympathy for a minute before sighing. “Thank you,” he near-whispered, “Do you have any other questions? Anything at all?” 

Steve felt the need to write down something else, to clear this strange air of grief and regret. He scrawled down another query as fast as he could without misspelling anything. His black hands, still a horrifying surprise to look at, were shakier than usual. He managed to write out:

What happened to the Ink Demon? 

The two looked over at the Demon itself, who was fiddling with its fingers, clearly very bored. “Bendy,” Sammy called out, “He’s asking about you.” It snapped to attention and stood on its back legs, slowly thudding over to where they were talking. Steve noticed it left behind a giant puddle of ink where it had been sitting. It dragged its huge claws along the floor as it walked, and its heart beat slowly from wherever it was. It flopped down on the ground again behind Sammy, like a dog switching spots to be in the sun. It looked intently at Steve, but he wasn’t sure why. “That’s both an easier and a harder question,” Sammy said in a calmer, more purposeful tone. “The owner of the animation studio that the… place spawned from wanted to do something basically impossible. He wanted to make living cartoon characters. I’m not sure if he was actually the starry-eyed idiot he always pretended to be or if he was a money hungry monster, but he wanted living attractions. We don’t really mention him too often.” He glanced back at the Ink Demon behind him, indicating why. “Anyway, he wanted to make living cartoons. He experimented on that Ink Machine with some guy named Thomas Connor, and eventually they came up with something. The owner’s first experiment was his main character, Bendy.” He pointed behind him. “As you can see, it didn’t go so well.” 

Oh, that actually makes sense, Steve thought to himself. Money-obsessed business owner plays God and gets kicked in the ass for it. 

“After Bendy came out deformed, J- I mean, the owner locked it in some secluded location, away from us. It drove it mad, and uh… this is what we have now.” He seemed to stumble over his words. The Ink Demon grumbled. It sounded almost like it was in physical pain. It has emotions, then, Steve pondered again. Sammy sighed. “I know, buddy, I know… it’s over now. He can’t hurt you.” It whined and settled down, burying its head in its giant hands. 

Sammy looked back over at Steve. “Anything else?” 

Steve decided to write down one last question.

What was your boss’ name?

Sammy didn’t say anything. He motioned for Steve to hand him the pen he was using, and then wrote down something. His handwriting was really neat, all things considered. 

Joey Drew. 

Steve nodded in regards to Sammy. That’s all, he was trying to say, and thank you. 

___

it's been a bit hasn't it

ngl I'm really proud of the characterization in this one

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[feisaru]

I have 2 questions: - What got you into Inazuma Eleven and into shipping SaruFei and -What is your MBTI?

I like those two asks a lot! I've been waiting for someone to ask me about it for ages. Thank you!

First, about my MBTI. I am one pretty solid INTJ, I have a tendency to lean towards ENTJ in certain aspects tho. (As a little trivia on the side: I'm interested in MBTI and so have been researching functions etc. for quite some time now)

What got me into IE?

Simple. My brother. Summer 2018, he was always watching that annoying soccer show on TV at our grandparents' house, always asking me to come join him. And you know what? One day, I did, and it was one of the best decisions throughout my entire life. The show (only the first season back then) grew onto me rapidly, especially its lovable characters. Heck, IE had me in such a chokehold that I even played soccer with my brother bc of it. At the very beginning, Afuro was living in my head rent-free. He specifically helped me through some very rough times and I will never forget that. He will always be dear to my heart. I did get "out of" IE at some point for reasons, but I always wound up coming back to it cause turns out, no other franchise has ever quite given me as much comfort as this one. Across the last few years, I've been always returning to it with my thoughts whenever it got especially bad. I'm glad I managed to properly come back to it and have it be a big part of my everyday life (hyperfixation be damned (very lovingly)).

Now, imo, Chrono Stone deserves a honorary mention. The CS game (and later the anime) made me feel approximately ten times better than the rest of IE, and that's something. Long story short, I picked up the game from the store the first time I was into IE right after I had done research and learned that this franchise is actually based on games. There was no other game there, so I thougt this would do, too. Then I didn't touch it until 2021. The reason I started playing it was that I desperately needed to escape reality and CS succeeded at distracting me excellently. Coming home in the evening to open my Nintendo was the single highlight of my day.

How did I become insane over Sarufei?

Good question, anon. I cannot really pinpoint the moment it happened, but I can tell you it was pretty quick. Their first bits together already caught my attention in the most brain-tickling way possible, like this one:

The CS manga panel where they let Saryuu cry after he lost and Fei reassures him played into that too (I bought the manga solely for that, but turns out it was overall good). I could go on and on about their psychological aspects that spoke to me right off the bat, but I'll spare you that. Before I knew it, I was trying to search out content of them at 3 am on a week day (good content of them is pretty hard to come by with, in my experience at least). My head was really really really full of them, as it is now as well. They're pretty much the reason I picked up drawing & content creating again after years. The first thing I did after I finished playing CS was draw them and create a social media account so I can post it, so I can find someone to talk about them to. I had to channel how unhinged I'm over them somehow. They're also the reason I still keep on drawing. They make so fucking ill and I'm rotating them in my head at all times.

In conclusion, thanks for letting me go wild through text although this is by far not the best thing I've ever written

(I have. So much to say its jarring but sharing my stuff makes me anxious sometimes nonetheless)

[brokenbones-tellstories]

I’m getting sad again. I don’t know if its the SAD or purely circumstantial, but I’m sad. I’ve spent a lot of time over the past several days thinking about a lot of things I’ve tried very hard to put to rest and I simply can’t. I’ve been cursed with this thing about me that makes everyone fall in love with me and as self centered or pompous or whatever you wanna call it that it sounds, it’s true. Ever since I graduated high school it’s been this constant thing that’s followed me around and I can’t shake it and it’s happening again. I swore I’d take it to my grave so I won’t go into details and give it away, even here, but it’s a thing and I don’t know what Im supposed to do with it.  I’m not mad at the person for it happening, not even close. I just wish I could be different. Not as....not whatever it is. Likeable, kind, patient, empathetic, understanding...something, anything, whatever it may be.  How do I explain that its this very personality that’s gotten me where I am? That someone fell so hopelessly in love with me that it near destroyed both of our lives for years on end and just when I thought I had learned my lesson, my best friend went and fell in love with me too. Since then he’s quite literally told me on more than one occasion that he wishes he never had met me and his life was better off without me in it. We barely talk about anything these days and whenever I find the courage to try and share anything with him I think he would like, I either get a simple “okay?’ back or ignored entirely.  I knew from day one that no matter what I did or how hard I tried nothing would ever work out between us. It wasn’t through any fault of our own, we’re just two very different people and life has made us volatile in ways that would never be compatible. We’ve hurt each other in near unforgivable ways with our wayward feelings and there’s a lack of patience and a disrespect that cannot go ignored. We are each others worst nightmares relationally and yet the best of friends at the same time. And still I love him I love him I love him. It’s a constant never ending thought and everything, every. single. fucking. thing. goes back to him. How we were in the city together every single time I was up there whether we even knew it or not. How our paths almost crossed before we even knew the other existed. How the very first conversation we had about a new show coming to broadway was the same one we watched the final performance of, together, four years later.  He, my endlessly frustrating, infuriating best friend who hates the very ground I walk on and still would come back to me, no questions asked, if I ever allowed him the chance. A

nd then there’s the rest of everything.  My best friend dipped out of my life without a word spoken and even after a year and I half I still don’t have an explanation from her. We’ve spoken cordially since, but when I threw out the olive branch asking for lunch or dinner, hoping for a chance to talk, she said no. The anger comes and goes like the seasons. I don’t always feel good enough to be her friend and I often wonder if it’s my own insecurities getting in the way, or if its my new found self respect telling me that I deserve better.  Whatever the case may be, I miss her more than anything. I wonder who her daughter is growing to be. I want to ask her what happened with her ex. I want to know if she’s okay. I wanted her to meet my son and to be happy I’m happy. To breathe that sigh of relief with me when I realized I was happy and okay and I had survived the single worst year of my life. She was supposed to be there forever. The champion of all my insane ideas and my adventure buddy. That girl would’ve gone anywhere with me until she didn’t.

Then there’s the world itself. Our crumbling economy and inflation that’s gotten so out of hand we’re barely keeping afloat. I can’t even afford to put lights on the christmas tree that was gifted to us this year. It’s my sons first christmas and I cant buy him the things I want to.  The tags on my car are years out of date and I have an outstanding ticket from it that if I Got pulled over again I’d be arrested.  My license is expired and I can’t renew it without paying for the car which means I can’t fly to chicago for my best friends wedding next fall.  I don’t have enough money to pay my bills each month as it is. How can I save hundreds of dollars for the car and a license. And why the fuck was I so stupid two years ago and let it go ignored? I was only out of work for three weeks. I could very well have handled it then and I didn’t.  I’m 27 years old and I’ve amounted to nothing I wanted to. I work part time in a coffee shop and I don’t know anything different. If I work full time, all my extra money would go to childcare and negate the entire point of working more. I Literally can’t win for losing. I dropped out of college twice because of finances and an inability to cope with life. I want to go back so bad it hurts. I want to be the first, and likely only one of us siblings to obtain a degree. I want to do it for myself.  For my son. I need to. I need to accomplish this thing to know it can be done. I need to check it off my bucket list if only for spite because there was a time I didn’t think i’d even live to get my diploma....why stop there? The ultimate fuck you is a life lived and lived well. I’m just tired and tired of everything and I hate that I can’t stop thinking even for a second.

Make it fcking stop.

[sightofsea]

Jumpscare anon! Its a random person asking for advice on a situation without a lot of context and also the situation is tense (hello its me u dont have to answer this I just like how u see people and community and would like some perspective)

Basically fucked love triangle with fucked dynamics because youre all friends like really good friends. Lets say person A is the common denominator that me and person B are into. You (I) love both these people though, and since you (I) dont distinguish between types of love you just kind of love them equally. But you and person A have an amount of chemistry (sexual chemistry btw) that is borderline destructive. Intoxicating. You spent 3 years in a relationship with someone else ignoring it which obviously only made it worse and now you're fresh out of a relationship and everytime you and person A accidently brush arms or whatever its like they are setting you on fire (this is mutual). Problem is person B really likes person A for romance reasons and theyre kinda together kinda not.

The answer is really simple. You know the chemistry is not going away (its been 5 years) and u know eventually youre going to break and even if u dont, its morally sketchy to spend time with someone just so u can sit in the same couch to smell each other or something, so you have to get some distance. But you live together for at least 6 more months. And also. Youve never felt this way with someone and need to know what kissing them would be like. But also. You cant be a dick to your friend B. But also You really really wanna do it.

Should I explode? Would that solve it?

Ok well. I wanna preface this by saying I've never been in a relationship for very long sooooo idk if I'm the person to talk to about this.

the way I see it, there's a few things I wanna discuss/go over here:

Let's talk about A's feelings for a second. The way you write they feel less like a person and more like an idea. You say you've got insane sexual chemistry--what is it that you want out of this? You wanna sleep with them, and that's it? Are they the type of person who sleeps with somebody and doesn't catch feelings? Do you want feelings? I'm all for sleeping with your friends, it's a lot of fun, but you gotta set some ground rules with the other person and consider what their whole deal is. And if it isn't compatible to your wants, then that's another thing to reckon with. Which brings me to my next point:

You say A and B are kinda together, kinda not. That sounds like they are together. And unless they're open/poly, that's going to be an issue here. If they are open/poly, then yeah I think maybe posing the question/sleeping with them is a good idea! Again, sleeping with friends is fun, relieving tension is good. But if they are in a monogamous relationship, or tend towards monogamy, and you feel like you're too turned on by this person to respect that boundary, then it might be good to just talk it out without the expectation of anything happening/grinning bearing and jacking your way through 6 months until you get some distance/find someone else you have chemistry with. They exist in a lot of places! Trust me, I've been in a similar situation to where you are now, and distance does wonders on helping you get over people.

the thing is that even though I've said everything up here, you do seem pretty set on telling them/fucking them. it's pretty obvious where you're leaning, but you feel about it. the thing is, I can't give you absolution over it. the other thing is, I don't actually know you or your friend group all that much. if you think confessing your attraction/fucking it out with this person is going to end up in a net positive, then yeah! go for it! if you're other friend hasn't made their move, then maybe it would be good to instigate something and it'll all work out! that would be amazing. to me, that doesn't sound to be the case, but again: I don't know you.

this is all to say: it looks like you need to talk out/clarify some things with your friends and what their relationship is before you make a move. boring answer, I know, maybe not the one you're looking for. don't explode, just talk it out.

[dzpenumbra]

6/5/23

I have a doctor's appointment at 1 PM tomorrow, so I kinda have to do this quick. It's just a physical, hopefully nothing comes of it. I honestly don't really know whether it's worth bringing up mental health shit with them, which seems to be the big issue right now.

I was a bit frustrated this morning, waking up. This whole... no one being able to help me thing. Since I was very young, I had my mom taking me to doctors to figure out what's wrong with me. And, somehow... there was never really an answer... hmm... weird, right? See, in my experience of life, this was very normal. I never questioned the idea of being ferried across state lines as a teenager for scans and procedures and shit as being... abnormal. Even though... it didn't happen to anyone else I knew... even my own brothers... It just never really occurred for me to question that, you know?

That's the insidious part about really difficult things - I don't really know how to word that, honestly... I'm struggling with accurate phrasing. I guess trauma? But like... family shit? And just... environmental shit, you know? Like... how I was talking about how people respond to a cat wanting to play by assuming the cat is being "a dick" or "angry" or something, because they were taught that's what it means, and then shutting it out of the bedroom permanently. You get used to that, it becomes normalized, and you just... never question it. When a cat attacks you, that's what's happening. You already have the answer to that, there's no need to question it.

So... like... me going to doctors is hard. Because there's a really long history there. But also, what I was wrestling with this morning... being told "we can't help you" is super hard. Like... point me in the fucking direction of someone who can, do something! I can't even count how many times I was just told "sorry, can't help you, good luck" and sent off to kick fucking rocks. Doctors. Therapists. "Life Coaches". Vocational Rehabilitation. All the same.

So... again, not sure if it's worth even mentioning that I've really been struggling with anxiety and depression... and PTSD... and grief... and, to be blunt... since I've been shying away from the word a lot lately... agoraphobia. There is definitely phobia attached to me not leaving my apartment, that's indisputable. My therapist and I are addressing all of it, but the plan is... insanely slow-moving, and kinda feels like... Okay. The plan is basically, as far as I can tell, to teach me some skills to try to repair my own self-confidence and self-esteem, and to maintain them properly... so that I can... Get out there and start from scratch. Meet friends, make professional connections, live life. How to do that? Where to go? Who to meet? No fucking clue. Just gonna sit here in my apartment and keep making art and chant to myself nice positive things 5 times a day until I finally get a giant spike of confidence, then I'll... be talked out of going to do something to move my life forward because it might overwhelm me.

Bah. Idk. See, all this over the simple thought: "should I bring up my mental health struggles with my doctor?" The only way he can help is meds and honestly? I do not want to be walking back from the pharmacy through a... what I consider a bad neighborhood... with a fucking controlled substance in my pocket. And I really don't think they're gonna let anyone deliver that shit to my door. And honestly, with how hard it was to get off these things, I really don't feel comfortable voluntarily getting back on them. I don't know, I flip-flop on the idea a lot.

I had this issue with meds when I was on them... the idea of missing a dose or not being able to get a prescription refilled - which happened way too often for comfort - ended up creating more anxiety and stress than not having them. By that I mean... the meds helped reduce how much of that everyday stress and anxiety I felt, but what they don't tell you is that just because you don't feel anxiety and stress, doesn't mean you're not experiencing it. Just because you're anesthetized doesn't mean your body isn't registering pain or damage caused from that, and it still takes a toll. So... I still experienced the everyday stress and anxiety, and the added stress and anxiety of med-related problems. "Did I take my meds?" "Did I miss a dose?" "Did I double-dose accidentally?" "Am I going to have to go into withdrawal because this pharmacy refuses to refill this prescription for whatever reason?" Shit like that.

So yeah. I guess I'm just trying to sort out whether it's even worth bringing up. Because I know for a fact that if I talk to the guy about this the way I'm talking right now? My real voice. The entire appointment will be about that, because I go on forever, and I likely won't leave with anything. That's why I usually let them take the lead and just answer whatever questions they have, unless it's like... urgent.

That said... if I can get prescriptions delivered? I'll have that conversation. It just seems unlikely to me that that's a thing.

Okay... here's thing of the day number 2. I got downstairs today and found my tomato plant... collapsed. It broke my heart. It was like... flopped over at a 90 degree angle. I was on the verge of tears, honestly. I have no idea what happened. It was very cold last night, and... I'm guessing windy? And I watered it last night... And then I wake up and the whole thing is collapsed. The main stem was bent, but not broken... So I scoured the apartment for something to use as a stake. I ended up settling on a plastic coat hanger, which I cut the big long straight section out of, and loosely tied the plant to the stake. And... it actually seems to have stood itself back up over the course of the day. I legit don't know if it's going to survive, but... I think it might! But god did that scare the shit out of me. Poor thing. I remember back when I had a legit raised bed garden and tons of tomato plants (my first garden, which I completely got myself in over my head with...) I had a ton of trellises that I used for the tomatoes. This kit that my brother got me, it's a cherry tomato plant, but it's grown in a big glass jar full of soil. They never once mentioned any kind of stake or trellis needed for this. Now... I'm debating getting something for the chili too. Just to be... proactive.

The good news that goes with that? And why I was so devastated... The tomato sprouted its first flower buds, they're still very very tiny but if the plant recovers well... the flowers should start before too long! And the philodendron cuttings are doing really well. Two of them are almost ready to be planted. I'm just debating whether I want to plant them separately or have them share the same pot. I'm guessing separately makes the most sense. My blackberry seeds have not germinated... unfortunately... I don't know if they still need time or not... but hell, it doesn't hurt to just give it time. So I'm thinking of just giving them another week or something and then if they still haven't sprouted, I'll toss some basil starters in there and get that going.

I'm very excited about being a plant-father. I did do the whole outdoor garden thing one summer with my ex (it was basically just me, tbh), but that felt much more... hands-off. I kinda just let them do their thing, and they did great, even got a bunch of watermelons out of the deal! ... Actually, now that I think about it, I think it was 2 summers. There was... lettuce, onions?, green beans, jalapenos, and a bunch of tomatoes the first year... no, it was broccoli, not onions. But the broccoli, idk what happened, I think bugs got to it. The second year I think was more lettuce, strawberries, cucumbers and watermelons. Hard to remember, it was a while ago.

I am much more... attentive to my plants now, I know them much better. And that is a very two-sided feeling. I love the adventure of getting really passionate about something new and diving into it - it's a huge part of my life, something I am constantly trying to do, always try new things, always learn, always grow - but the older I get, the more I feel that whole... beginner's shame thing. The clumsiness. Making avoidable mistakes. I felt so much more... immune to it when I was younger. Now... it's weird, it feels like a social expectation that if you're an adult, you aren't going to make beginner mistakes... at anything. My family is absolutely an extreme example of that, but I really do think it can just be put onto people by society. Like... I remember at the bagel shop I worked at... If a teenager fucked up, it was kinda expected. If someone over 40 fucked up? Like a simple mistake? It always felt like... "hey man, you should know better." And honestly, that's kinda bullshit on both sides. Don't assume that young people are inept. And engage with them if they make mistakes so that they can learn what happened and how to course correct. Don't just go, "ugh, dumb kid, I'll go fix your mistake, get out of my way." And with older people, don't just get mad if someone is new at something. You can't just magically know how to do things, this isn't the fucking Matrix.

Anyway, just mentioning that because I kinda felt that when the plant fell today. I just... I know it was just a fluke thing, but I kinda blamed myself. Like I should've known better. And I have been a bit reserved about propagating the succulents in fear that I might... "fuck up"... due to inexperience. But, thankfully, that feeling was actually motivating for me. I need to fuck up. I need to fuck up and see that it really is not the end of the world, and learn from that, and move forward. It's so goddamn important to do that. Not to be blind about it, or arrogant about it... like... don't go too far in that impulsive direction... but I need to push forward out of my whole "play it super safe" shit. It is the anti-anxiety. It's me being super scared and saying fuck it and dropping in on a quarterpipe when I haven't done that in over 14 years. I need that. Mini leaps of faith. They are so good for confidence. I just need to be okay with the fact that sometimes, I'm gonna fall, and that's okay. That's why we learn how to fall safely.

It's getting late, tarot time.

Past - XII: The Hanged One, inverted (Opportunity for new perspective, evolution through stillness and stagnation, evolution through sacrifice or loss. The interconnectedness of perspective and sacrifice, and the need to act on them for substantial change. Let go.) Present - XXI: The World, inverted (Dreams and passions being rewarded.  Newfound success.  Reaping what you have sown.) Future - VIII: Strength, inverted (Overcoming fear, mastery of emotions through equilibrium and inner strength.)

Another three inverted cards... XD Yay!!! This time, all Major Arcana cards. Let's dive in, this one doesn't seem... too complicated, at first glance.

The start of the thread is... a blockage or disorder/dysfunction in... finding a new perspective? Maybe being stuck in loss, or stillness? I was going to look for more guidance from other sources on this, but I'm just going to try to work it out myself. The concept of the Hanged One is... as far as I recall... at least in part a reference to a story about Odin, hanging himself upside-down from a great tree in order to... gain great insight and wisdom. It's a literal sacrifice made to elicit a metaphoric transformation, and a shift of perspective. A new way of seeing the world. One of great sacrifice, but the gift is worth the price, kinda thing. So... if that's not working... maybe I'm missing the message? Or haven't fully transformed yet?

That connects to The World, inverted. Which is... the big reward. The culmination of hopes and dreams, goals and aspirations. And... it's also stuck, or blocked, or... something's wrong with it, something's preventing it. Likely that transformation that hasn't finished.

That is connected to... Strength, inverted. Which is the embodiment of a symbiotic alliance between emotions and intellect. Harmony with your fear, an inner strength. Which... is blocked, or gone on the fritz, as well.

So, tl;dr... I'm missing something in my new perspective? A blind spot? Or I haven't finished transforming yet? And that is why my ambition is not paying off. Which, in turn, is causing fear to rule my life and my emotions to run rampant. So... what am I missing? What more do I need in order to transform? ... I drifted off in my head there for a bit realizing the silliness of grilling myself to find what blind spot I have. XD As though pressing harder will make me just magically see it!

Alright, I really need to get to bed. Fingers crossed I can get to sleep in a timely manner and this appointment goes well.