#as someone that hates cigarette smoke in real life. hear me out

[localghostgorl]

She was on her smoke break and you just said something cringe to her. Prepare to die.

I do commissions!  

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Out of Darkness - Chapter Four: Fall from Grace - Alastor x human!fem!reader

Go to: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter ThreeHello! Sorry for this chapter being so short. I had some unfortunate events happening to me and I ended up writting a shitty chapter. I deleted it because I felt a bit anxious since Alastor wasn't Alastor and decided to stick to something that focused more on him. I really hope you'll like it! Kisses <3TW: Angst, swearingWord count: 950

It had been days since Alastor and (y/n) decided to ‘take it slow’. A part of him hoped that after she left that night, he would never hear from her again. That she would give him up, meet someone or win a 100-day free holiday and leave, forgetting her phone at home so she couldn’t call him either. But each day, she returned, her presence a constant, unsettling reminder that there was something he didn't quite understand happening to him.

Every single day she would come and visit him, having fun little ideas on how to spend their day. One night, she took him to the cinema to watch a newly released horror movie. Horrendous. Who the Hell were Ed and Lorraine Warren? He had never heard of them. If they were that good, he would have. He got so bored that he started thinking about what would happen if he randomly began terrorizing people: would he get a movie too? Hopefully, his would be better. But at some point, he started analyzing (y/n) reactions, rather than the movie: how she’d jump a little bit at the most predictable jump scares and look away in disgust at the gorier scenes. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little, winning a mad look from her whenever he would make fun of them.

She also introduced him to a show, “Supernatural”. It took him a while to understand that Dean and Sam were not in fact real like the Warrens were, which made him a bit disappointed. They seemed to be more professional. He would’ve loved to make a deal with them.

So, did he entirely hate those little getaways? Disappointingly, no. This world was already shitty enough, so these little moments made him forget about everything happening to him, how his life was going downwards since he entered that portal. But tonight his last drop of patience slipped.

He had had a horrible day at work. His incompetent coworker, Steve, spilt coffee on him. Normally, he would’ve just destroyed his soul, smiling at him as he begged for mercy. But he didn’t. Instead, he thought the moral thing to do would be to steal his laptop and enter all those ads (y/n) warned him not to click on. So now, Steve’s laptop was full of single moms who were ready to fuck. He considered this a small victory… at least until he actually destroys his soul in hopefully less than 20 years with his smoking-three-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day habit.

When he arrived home, he got a message from (y/n) saying that she was taking care of her niece for the night. She asked him if he wanted to come too, but he declined, not being a fan of having brats around him. He felt a bit annoyed at the fact that she abandoned him for such things, so he poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat on the couch, listening to some jazz and trying to wind down. The sugar on the cream was that his neighbour and his wife were trying so hard to bring new souls into this shitty world, that he couldn’t even hear the jazz clearly anymore.

It was too much for Alastor, his senses too overstimulated and his patience far gone.

His grip on the glass tightened, breaking it into multiple pieces, his demon form slowly engulfing him, sharp teeth and red eyes slowly replacing his human ones. His antlers pierced out of his head, tingles running down his spine at the sensation.

The lights flickered in the room, exploding one by one, darkness eventually conquering the small apartment. The only source of lightning was his red glowing eyes. The radio started distorting, chuckling and growls filling the room.

"I'm gonna..." he started in between the growls. "I'm gonna kill all of them..."

Alastor burst into laughter, as he crawled on the cold floor. "I will crush their bones and rip them out of their body... One by one..."

His claws gripped at the rug covering the floor, throwing it away harshly, a low growl escaping his mouth as dark tentacles broke out of his back, pain washing over him. He needed to get out of here now.

Using his tentacles, he grabbed a can of paint that was lying in the apartment, dropped it and spilt it, covering his hand with the coloured liquid. Like an animal in pain, he dragged himself across the floor, drawing a huge pentagram in the middle of the room. The candles that (y/n) brought all lit up in unison and shadows placed them perfectly in every corner of the pentagram. His eyes flickered in excitement, a grotesque smile growing on his face as the portal to the other world opened right in front of him. Screams of pain and sorrow invaded his ears, filling him with immense joy. Adrenaline pumped his veins as he approached the portal. This was his chance. His chance to leave before he becomes too weak again.

But he stopped.

He stopped just as he was about to crawl inside the portal.

“Fuck…” he whispered to himself, backing down and getting on his knees, his smile still plastered on his face. The portal in front of him closed, as the candles extinguished themselves one by one, leaving him in darkness and sorrow. His heart was pounding in his chest as he gripped his dark hair. He missed it… His chance to leave… Who knows how long it will take him to build the power to do this again.

He just stood there in silence. Was he weak? No… It wasn’t him the problem. It was this world, it was… it was her. She was the problem, not him. She made him weak.

He tried to get up, chunks of hair falling from his hands as he removed them from his scalp. His feet were weakened, making him fall to the ground, and his breath was heavy.

He heard the phone he hated so much ringing, but it slowly got muffled by static. Loud. Persistent. Static.

Tags: @sirens-and-moonflowers, @ratsematary

Go to: Next chapter

[billkaulitzwife]

The Outsiders Coping With a Breakup

(ps guys im not over it leave me alone(i also watched the notebook and i hate myself))

Ponyboy

Reading or writing.

How could you ever hurt this little freshman boy he‘s such a sweetheart

He would probably silently cry into a pillow until he thought his lungs were about to collapse or cave in

if this was now … he‘d chain smoke and listen to lana del rey while looking out a moonlit window

he definitely listens to Elvis to get over it.

I don’t know what exactly he would read to get over it but probably some sad ass Edgar Allan Poe. Annabelle Lee lookin ass.

He‘d write the most heart breaking

tear dripping

heavy breathing sad poetry ever.

show him a romance novel.

he’d never stop reading them until he got over it.

just the bare thought of it drives him nuts.

so he reads.

Johnny

if you hurt this man he would probably hurt himself.

he would dream bout it and wake up in cold sweats, tears running down his face.

in all honesty

i think he‘d be artistic with it

he’d somehow turn each and every single tiny thought into something about you

whether it be thinking about a teddy bear then contorting it into nothing but an image of you and him.

he would never be able to look at the places you went together the same.

he would be an artist.

hand him a pencil and he’ll make your heart break and ache.

might etch and sketch on himself to see if you still care.

ps you obviously do.

Dallas

Doesn’t know how.

All this man does is sleep, drink, fuck, repeat.

being honest this manwhore is probably gonna screw every hoe in Tulsa to try and get his mind off of it,

but every path leads back to what he knows best.

he would smoke more,

party more,

drink away all his problems, etc before facing a problem head on.

people may see him as this

uhh

violent gang member hoodlum kid guy man

but deep down hes really just a kid who wishes he couldve given his momma one more hug

a kid that needed to be loved.

a kid that was never taught how to be loved.

Adelaide

crier.

she’s a big ol’ crier, but it doesnt matter since thats not the only way she copes.

she loves to paint and puts every emotion into her paintings.

she may’ve become a kleptomaniac since she needs the supplies.

the curtis boys would

PERSONALLY

kill you if anything happened to her

one heartbreak and shes done for

love? whats that? it isnt real?

dont hurt her no matter what.

she would also turn to cigarettessss (as if she doesnt smoke enough).

adelaide would develop stage five lung cancer before even admitting that love could in the slightest exist anymore.

Sodapop

working.

soda seems like the kinda guy to go through a breakup and cry a lot

but the only thing that really helped was work.

he’d probably get a raise

yk with how hard and how much he’d be working to get over it.

his siblings would warn him about not overworkimg himself

and guess what.

he didnt listen and got really sick from all the stress.

i know for a fact he would keep away from cigarettes even if someone said they help and he believed it

he would only ever listen to the radio

hoping and praying that when he’d hear a love song he‘d hear your voice

Darrell

probably the most sane of everybody while dealing with his bs

he wld obviously be heart broken

but not to the point he needed some insane coping mechanism.

he would probably meditate.

i mean this is the sixties cmon he’s either gonna do wxxd

or meditate.

as soon as a thought of you came up and his mind started to panic he would sit on the couch and

well.

relax.

he probably has the healthiest coping mechanism he’s definitely got his life together

the others are jealous as fuuuuck

Steve

bro wouldnt eat.

every time he thought about the breakup

he thought it was because he was strong enough

or that he was too chubby for his girl.

one time he passed out while on the way to work and the gang freaked out so bad

they couldnt take him to the hospital so they carried him home and stuck a juice box in his mouth

eventually his ass woke up and they all cheered like the war had just ended “HIP HOORAY!”

but then in all seriousness

he needed to get his weight back up so the curtis kids make him eat at their house

even if he says he ate.

theres always snacks for him laying around thay house from then on out

Two-Bit

drinking.

do i have to explain.

in the novel pony said two-bit was famous for shoplifting and his black-handled switchblade…

but for some reason i know he wouldnt shoplift any more.

(he sure did teach adelaide how to tho)

along with his love for “shopping” you gotta remember he’s a heavy alcoholic

he’d drink away all of his problems and thoughts until he blacked out.

his buddies would think its just your average keith

but in all reality he’s really struggling

even though he seems like the usual drunk happy joking guy

HE IS HURTTT.

okay thanks for watching todays vlog

if u ever need to vent please dont be scared to message me bruv im sure Ik how to help.

[deedeeznoots]

She Won’t Know… Right?

➺ Characters: Shiu Kong, Fem!Reader

➺ Word Count: 4.9k

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Content: MDNI, Married!Shiu, Handler!Shiu, Assassin!Reader, Mentions of murder, Cheating, Oral (M!Receiving), Manhandling, Praise, Face sitting, Oral (Fem!Receiving), Degradation, Backshots, Spanking, Getting caught, Nonconsensual Cuckqueaning, Missionary, Hatefucking, Choking, Face Slapping, Squirting, Creampie, (optional) Plot twist ending

➺ A/N: The behavior in this story is completely despicable in real life. If anything in this story brings up bad memories from your personal life do NOT continue reading. I have various different smut scenarios that are much sweeter like this one and this one. That being said… if you don’t mind feeling a little dirty, I hope you enjoy this story ❤️

➺ Synopsis: You know it’s wrong to want to fuck your handler, let alone your married handler…but why does it feel so good? 

The details on how it happened in the first place are mostly blurry. 

Being an assassin wasn’t the best job in the world, but you made do with it. You told yourself that as long as you got your money, you could deal with lesser details like the trauma it brought on later. Still…seeing the light leave people’s eyes as you took their lives wasn’t the best thing to end the work day with, so it was a good thing you had the sexiest handler to drive you home every day to soothe your eyes after a long day. 

You had just finished a job to kill some random high end guy at a local nightclub. You don't know the details, but it was probably just another rich asshole who bit way more into the world of illegal businesses than he should’ve. You killed him in private, but it would only be a matter of time before someone found his body, and you would’ve rather not dealt with running away from the cops. 

“Where the hell is this guy” you said to yourself, Shiu (your handler) wasn’t typically one to make you wait. You hear the sirens approaching and some people murmuring about a murder. “Fuck” you whispered, it’s not like you would’ve gotten caught, but you didn’t want to waste time lying to the police and answering questions. “Come on, Shiu…” 

Almost on command, the man’s black car pulled up in front of you. Finally, you were able to go home, take off the uncomfortable dress you had on, and run a hot bath for yourself.

You open the door and close it as you enter, the smell of cigarette smoke polluting your nostrils as you get inside “Smoking in your car? Fucking gross” you faced the person responsible for the smoke, a cigarette still in his mouth. “That’s no way to greet the guy driving you home like you’re some kind of school girl” Shiu responded, moving the gear shift from ‘park’ to ‘drive’ as he prepared to drive you home. 

“I can say whatever I want if you’re late, asshole” you leaned into the window on the car door. Even if it seemed like you hated him, you enjoyed being around Shiu. He was fun to be with and showed that he cared in little ways, like getting you food after particularly hard missions. Not only that, but he was hot too. If he wasn’t technically your co-worker, you’d probably pursue him. 

The stop light causes your eyes to wander, leading them to the ring delicately placed on his finger. 

…Right. 

If he wasn’t your co-worker and married, you’d probably pursue him. 

Shiu feels your eyes staring at him and looks at you as his foot presses on the gas, “What’s up?” he asks. You shook your head to break yourself out of your daydream, you didn’t realize that you’d been staring at him for an awkward amount of time, so you simply went “Nothing, just take me home” while you turned to look out the car window. 

While you were looking away from him, you still felt Shiu’s eyes on you, or more specifically…your body. When you kill rich assholes for a living, you come to learn that the easiest way to get them alone is to make them think they have a chance with you. Plus, looking hot while you killed someone made you feel a little better about the whole ordeal. Due to this though, every so often when you get Shiu to drive you home you feel his eyes on you, seemingly more focused on mentally undressing you than keeping his eyes on the road. 

Still… the silence was giving room to tension, so you decided to break it with the easiest conversation starter possible when it came to any married man. “How’s the Missus?” you shift your body to once again face him, something he didn’t expect as you noticed his body awkwardly flinch as he almost got caught staring. He clears his throat and starts to talk, “She still thinks I’m working as a Detective, so it’s probably going well”. 

Shiu didn’t like dragging his wife onto his dirty work, so you didn’t know much about her, all the information about her coming from Shiu’s words and the occasional photo you were able to glimpse from his phone. Shit, you didn’t even know her name. From what you did know… she seemed to be a nice enough lady, but someone Shiu didn’t seem too compatible with. Though it probably didn’t help that Shiu was chronically lying to her about something as big as what he did for a living. 

Feeling brave and a little bit tipsy from the drinks you got at the club, you said “I don’t get why you don’t divorce her already” stretching your arms as if you didn’t just say something definitely classified as a fucked up thing to say.

You see Shiu’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he tries to play it cool, “Now why would I do that?” he asks, still trying to focus on the road. This pisses you off slightly, you don’t know why, but it does. His marriage wasn’t your business, you shouldn’t answer him, but the floodgates that were your words had already opened. 

“Well you’re eyefucking me in this dress, so your marriage must not be going as well as you think”.

Fuck.

Why did you say that?

Shiu stays silent, only blowing another puff of smoke that pollutes the already stuffy air in the car. As the smoke clears, your eyes once again find their way back to Shiu’s wedding band. Why were you saying any of this? It was so wrong, you know it’s wrong, but still…

“I just don’t get what the point of lying so much to keep someone is when your needs aren’t even being fulfill–”

“Shut the fuck up”, Shiu cut you off, his knuckles turning white as his hands tightened around the wheel. “My needs are plenty fulfilled”, Shiu had never looked this angry before. Maybe it was a bad idea to call him out on something that wasn’t technically your business. You were known for doubling down though, so you added on “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that… maybe it will come true and your wife could finally give you an orgasm”. Maybe it was overkill to say such a thing, you didn’t even have anything personal with this lady, but something was pushing you to keep talking.

Shiu suddenly stopped the car after hearing your words, pausing to face you. You aren’t able to clearly read his facial expression. Was he… shocked? Angry? You couldn’t fully tell. Shiu exhaled, his fingers loosening his grip from the wheel “Damn it” he murmurs as he changes course and drives away from the main road, going into one of the more empty ones. It was definitely not the way to your home. “What the hell?” you try to say before Shiu cuts you off and goes “Shut the fuck up”, your heart skips a beat at his sudden harsh tone. Fuck… you really fucked up this time. Was he going to kill you for what you said? With where you two were…it looked like it. 

After a little while of driving away, he makes his way to a road with little people and likely no cars for miles. Parking in a random spot covered in grass, Shiu keeps his hands on the wheel. “Fuck…” he whispers to himself, looking as if he was contemplating something as he threw his used cigarette out the car window. 

You start to feel guilty about what you said, and you also begin to fear the very real possibility of getting murdered over your nonsensical comments, so you try to apologize when Shiu speaks once again, now facing you. 

“Get over here” he leans over to you and smashes your lips together in a hungry kiss. Your eyes widen in shock at first, but against any better judgment you lean into the kiss anyway. Your tongues intertwined together as Shiu brought his hands all over your body. “Mmph–” you moan into his lips as your hands wrap around his neck to bring him even closer to you. As wrong as it was, this was something you wanted to do with Shiu for a long while, and you’d be damned if you were going to waste this opportunity now. 

“You’re so hot” Shiu whispers to you as he breaks your kiss, his wet tips connected to your own through a string of saliva “...but you’re such a bitch” he growls as he kisses you once again, bringing his hand to your hips to keep you in place. 

He stops the kiss and leans back into his chair, unbuckling his belt. In the few seconds he spent away from you, it finally dawned on you that this was really happening, “Wait Shiu… we shouldn’t do this, your wi–” 

“I’m lying to my wife enough already, this is nothing” Shiu says as he pulls his pants down to reveal his length. 

“Get over here” he orders as his hand reaches for the back of your head, pulling your hair toward his throbbing hard cock. You stumble your way over to his lap, your ass now facing the car window. Seeing Shiu’s cock in your face helped you realize something. He was big, way bigger than you unashamedly imagined, and he was girthy too. You didn’t know how’d he’d fit inside you at all, let alone in your mouth. 

You look up at Shiu, who now has a new cigarette in his mouth. He nods at you, silently telling you to go on and suck him off. You shouldn’t do this, you know you shouldn’t. Fucking a married man is one of the stupidest things someone could do. Still… that doesn’t stop you from swirling your warm tongue around his tip anyways. 

“Fuck…yeah just like that” you hear Shiu above you as you taste his salty precum on your tongue. Slowly, you fit as much of him as possible down your mouth, moving your tongue from the tip of his dick all along his long shaft. “Mmph…haven’t had a blowjob this good in so long…” Shiu says in between moans, and you feel oddly proud of yourself at the sentiment, even though you know how much you shouldn’t be. You’re able to reach about halfway through his dick and don’t force yourself to go further, something Shiu was not going to let happen. 

“Come on, I know you can do better than this…” Shiu then forcefully begins to grab at your hair and starts forcing you to take his entire cock down your throat. “Mmmmph!” you choke out on his dick as you grab onto his lap for some semblance of balance. He continues forcing his cock up and down your throat, causing you to continuously gag all around him. “Yeah… there you go” he chuckles as he fucks your throat open. 

You feel your dress hiking up your body, exposing your ass even further than it already was. Shiu doesn’t seem too bothered though, only focusing on your lips around his length. “Your mouth is so good, you’re so good” he praises your dirty work. You feel your saliva all over your face and your makeup begins to smear from all of his force. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, however, as you are only focused on sucking him dry. 

“Fuck…I’m gonna cum” Shiu announces, finally loosening his grip onto your hair, pulling your mouth off his dick but keeping your head nearby. “I wanna do it on your face, baby” he says, enjoying that he was able to see you all messy for him. Too fucked out and out of breath to really know what you’re doing, your hands automatically reach their way to his cock, jerking him off. He becomes a moaning mess before he finally comes undone onto your face and your fingers, with some droplets of cum finding their way down to his own lap. It felt so dirty, so disgusting, but you still wanted more.

You sat up, your now ruined face covered in his cum and he gave you another kiss, cleaning some of the cum off your lips. You think it’s over, but unbeknownst to you, this was only the beginning. 

“My wife will be home in an hour, I’ll make sure to fuck you properly before that”.

Which is how you find yourself in Shiu’s home, sitting on his face getting the life eaten out of your pussy. Shiu’s tongue swirls all along your clit, causing you to spasm out from the sensations you felt all throughout your body. “Mmmm… Fuck, Shiu” you moaned out, not having a care in the world about how loud you were. 

The two of you were in such a hurry to fuck each other that neither of you even bothered to fully take off your clothes, with Shiu simply opting to pull your dress up and rip your panties away. You didn’t mind it, only focused on how amazing you felt with Shiu’s tongue under you. 

This was…wrong, right? You were in his marriage bed, his wife’s belongings were surrounding the both of you as he tonguefucked you stupid. Fuck, you could even smell the perfume she probably wore before she went out, oblivious to the fact that her husband was currently using his mouth to please another woman on her bed. There was no question about it, this was wrong. Still… it felt so amazing that you were willing to ignore all of that and grind your needy pussy against Shiu’s tongue anyways. 

You feel a knot in your stomach warning you of an upcoming orgasm. You were close, so close. You grind your pussy on Shiu’s tongue at an even faster pace, grabbing onto the sheets as you feel yourself nearly uncoil…

When suddenly Shiu taps your thigh, silently telling you to get off of him, which you begrudgingly oblige. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to fuck you properly?” he wipes off your juices from his face as he unzips the fly of his pants, taking out his erect member for the second time.

He bends you over, forcing you on all fours as he aligns himself along your wet folds. “Yeah that’s right” he whispers as he pushes his dick into you. As you feel his dick fill you up inch by inch, you can’t help but feel like he was almost made for you, with every additional inch of his thickness leaving you even more fulfilled. 

He finally bottoms out, feeling his pelvis hitting your ass as he starts thrusting into you. He wastes no time, going in and out of you with animalistic vigor, leaving you a moaning mess under him, feeling your arms nearly give out as you attempt to keep up with his speed. 

You hear nothing but grunts and moans from him until you hear him say “You like this, don’t you? Fucking a married man?”. You don’t answer him, too focused on your pleasure to understand his words, let alone talk back. Plus, with the way he was fucking you, you could probably forget the entire English language. Shiu wasn’t happy with this, and he roughly slaps your ass to get your attention “I asked you a fucking question”. 

You moan out, squirming at the wave of shock his hand sent throughout your body. Without thinking, you yell out “Yes! Yes, I fucking love it, Shiu”. You were willing to say anything if it meant he kept fucking you, you didn’t care what it was as long as he kept his dick in your pussy. “Yeah you do” he laughs as his thrusts get even harder. 

You begin to feel your orgasm approach again, you couldn’t wait to be carried in through your bliss. You were close, so close you could taste it. You feel that familiar coil fill up once again in your lower stomach, this time threatening to be even more intense than what you would’ve felt on Shiu’s tongue. Shiu seems to be getting close too, his moans getting more desperate and his cock twitching inside of you as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. 

You both are so close, being pushed so close to the edge, with you almost seeing white.In fact, you are both so lost in pleasure that neither of you even realize that an hour had already passed.

“Honey I’m ho–” the door suddenly swings open and a woman walks in. She looks a little different from the photos that you’ve seen of her, but her shocked expression gives you enough of an idea to understand that she was in fact, the last person who should’ve seen you two in this position. 

The two of you stop in your tracks, with Shiu still inside of you as she walks into the room. Perhaps you both should’ve covered up more, but it’s not like that would’ve helped in any way. In a split second, the woman’s once happy face contorted into one of sadness and disgust. 

First she looks at Shiu, not wanting to believe that the man she was looking at was truly her husband, her eyes begin to fill with tears when it dawns on her what was going on. Her teary eyes then make direct eye contact with you, trying to sense any type of remorse you could possibly feel for fucking her husband. You wish you could feel sorry, you really do, but you feel nothing but disappointment at the fact that your orgasm was once again interrupted. 

You hear a quiet whimper coming from the woman in front of you and a soft “...why?”, though you simply look down at the bedsheets, refusing to look her in the eyes. Shiu is still inside of you as he tries to speak, trying to come up with any possible explanation for his actions, when he feels your wet pussy clench around him, begging him not to let go.  

Without even thinking, he began to do something disgusting. 

“Baby I– Fuck…” Shiu cuts himself off to look down at your pussy, all glistening and wet all around his cock. As if he were a man possessed, Shiu began to start moving in and out of you in rhythmic movement. 

His wife didn’t even realize what he was doing at first, too focused on the tears of betrayal in her eyes. That was until she heard an audible “Nghh~” coming out of your mouth from Shiu’s sudden movement inside of you. 

“Oh my– I can’t believe this” you hear the woman’s disbelief at your actions. As fucked up as it was, you felt turned on at the prospect of her watching as Shiu fucked you while she begged for him to speak to her. You loved hearing the both of them argue about the future of their marriage while Shiu gave you the most amazing backshots known to man. 

You hear them both argue over your moans of pleasure, their words getting drowned out in your ears, not understanding a single word either of them are saying. You did understand one thing, though. You understood that even with his disgusting actions, even with the disgusting action he chose to inflict upon her at this moment, she was still begging him for something, begging him for some semblance of care for what she was witnessing. However, all that simply served to do was turn you on even more than you already were. 

Your pussy tightens at this revelation, causing Shiu to pay attention to you once more. “Fuck– I’m sorry baby…We’ll talk later, yeah?” his thrusts get deeper inside of you, hitting the perfect spot inside of you, leading you to let out an even louder moan. “You’re fucking her right now! I– I can’t even look at you… I’m leaving” you hear her cries get further away from the two of you as she leaves the room, leaving the bedroom door open. “Fuck…baby wait–” Shiu tries to call out to her while he’s still fucking you stupid. All you wanted at this point was to cum, you had been edged to oblivion twice already, and you were willing to do anything for Shiu to not go after her and to let you cum on his dick.

You sense your fears coming true when you feel Shiu stop and pull out of you. Too fucked out to feel any shame, you stupidly asked “Why’d you stop?” as you turned around to face him.

Shiu loved his wife, or at least he thought he did. Don’t get it mixed up, he was a terrible husband, that was a fact. However, he at the very least loved what his marriage represented. His job wasn’t the easiest either, being the middle man between literal murderers and people fucked up enough to pay people to murder wasn’t the most fun thing in the world either. So to come home and be able to play happy family for a little bit at the end of the day was something he enjoyed, and something he did not enjoy being in shambles. 

All of this showed in Shiu’s face as he faced your own. His expression showed a mix of guilt from what he just did, fear of the consequences, and most of all anger.

Anger towards you, for making him this way.

You feel his hand snake around your neck, choking you. “Why’d I stop? Are you fucking kidding me?” he says as you gasp for air around his hand, your fucked up pussy twitching in excitement at the loss of oxygen. He puts his dick inside you again, and his thrusts get even rougher than they were before. He was going to take out all of his anger onto you as he fucked you if it was the last thing he did. If his marriage was over, he was going to make damn well that your pussy was worth it. 

“You fuckin’ whore, I might be getting divorced because of you” he spits out as his grip on your neck tightens. He puts your legs around his waist as he begins to start fucking you vigorously. “You got tight when I said that, you got tight when my wife went in the room too. Do you enjoy being a homewrecking slut?”. 

His verbal abuse was overwhelming, and the lack of air wasn’t doing you any favors either. Still, you’re able to choke out a soft “No” as you moan from his dick inside of you. “You say that but your pussy says otherwise, fucking whore” Shiu grunts as he continuously hits the perfect spots inside of you, allowing you to ignore his harsh words and the air he was constricting from you.

The truth was you did enjoy fucking him in front of his wife, you did enjoy the fact that he’s still here with you after his wife left the room, even if it’s just to take out his frustrations onto you. His hand loosens around your neck and he eventually removes it completely, causing you to let out a sigh of relief now that you are finally able to breathe. The relief was short lived, however, as you felt a sharp sting of pain on your cheek as he slapped you across the face. 

You whimper at the pain, something Shiu doesn’t seem to care much about as he orders for you to “Apologize”. You don’t even think before you blubber out a plethora of “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” as if it were a chant.

You feel Shiu’s lips on yours once again, a stark contrast to the harsh slap he gave you just seconds ago. You feel your orgasm building up once again and try to grab Shiu’s shoulders in order to brace yourself but he pulls your arms away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me” he breaks your passionate kiss as he warns you. 

You follow his words, willing to follow anything he says as long as he makes you cum in the end, opting to grab onto the sheets instead as you feel his tongue reach deep in your throat.

You feel your orgasm coming ever closer and Shiu breaks your kiss once again in order to announce his own orgasm. “Fuck… I’m going to cum. You better be on birth control, I don’t need your kid” you hear him say through his teeth. 

Rather than focusing on his words, you focus as your pussy spasms around his cock as you finally reach your orgasm. Your eyes widen in shock as you feel a surge of clear liquid flood out of your pussy. You feel Shiu grunt at the new sensation as his own orgasm approaches, his cum filling you up as your pussy milks him dry for all that he’s worth. After being brought to the edge for so long, finally being able to feel yourself let go was something you cherished, and it quickly became the best orgasm of your life.

However, when you come down from your high, you begin to fully sit with the realization of what you had just done. You had just fucked your married handler, parts of it in front of his crying wife. Hit with a sudden pang of guilt, you look to Shiu for guidance. To your surprise, he had already gotten out of bed, zipping up his pants and fixing up his suit to look as presentable as he could after what you two did.

He doesn’t even take another second to look at you as he walks toward the door, “Clean yourself up then leave as soon as possible” he lights yet another cigarette on his way out, “I’m going to talk to my wife”. 

You hear the door slam shut, and you are left to deal with the mess you made alone, with Shiu’s cum inside you being the only trace left of him around. 

🝮 Alternate Ending 🝮

You sit in bed, still feeling gross from the events just moments ago. You feel Shiu’s cum begin to run down your leg as you attempt to get up. Unfortunately, your legs don’t seem to want to work and you slump back down onto the bed. It had been about thirty minutes since Shiu left, and despite his words, you weren’t sure what to do with your legs unable to work.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opens once again, revealing Shiu in his messy suit with his hair ruffled. You scramble to your feet as you both silently stare at each other for a few seconds…and you’re the first one to speak. 

“Shiu! Where were you for so long?!”. 

Shiu laughs and places what looks like a to-go bag of food by your bedside table. “Sorry baby, I went to pick up some food for you. I got your favorite” he gives you a chaste kiss on your lips, and opens the bedside drawer, grabbing a towel to clean you off. 

You allow his gentle touches, very different from the kind he gave you just moments before, and you say “Good…I’m good. I guess I was just so immersed in our play that I’m just a little emotional”. You weren’t wrong, you did feel fine and you enjoyed your session with Shiu, but you couldn’t help but feel a little emotional. 

Shiu simply gave you a kiss on the forehead and a warm hug that you gladly leaned into. “It’s alright…I know I was pretty rough today. You did so good…I hope I did good as well?” he smiles softly as he looks down at your form. 

“The best” you giggle into his chest as you lean into him.

“I still can’t believe you paid some lady to pretend to be your wife catching you cheating. She was so convincing too! Such good acting, better than the people in this movie even” you say as you stuff your mouth with food. You and Shiu had decided on eating dinner while watching TV on the couch for the day, something typically reserved for special occasions. 

“She cost a real pretty penny too” Shiu groaned as you both cuddled on the couch “It was so worth it though, it really brought you over the edge” he laughed as you rolled your eyes, he wasn’t wrong, though.

You looked up to look at his face, to really look at his face. The reality hit you as you looked at him, he wasn’t some co-worker you had sexual tension with, he wasn’t some quick fuck, he was the love of your life. “Hey…” you said to him.

“Hm?” he asked, looking away from the movie to look back at you. “Thank you for doing this with me… I know it isn’t the most common kink” you laugh as you lean into his chest. 

“Well you being an assassin and me being an ex-detective who hates his wife is oddly specific… it was also pretty fun to do”. 

“Oh shut up” you hit his chest lightly, causing him to let out soft ow’s in response. After that though, you simply leaned back into his warm body, simply letting your mind wander. 

Rubbing your arm, he goes “Thank you, too…I really enjoyed doing this with you” he kisses your head. You laugh and go “Ehh don’t enjoy it too much, if you actually cheat on me I will kill you”. 

“Yeah yeah we get it assassin” he laughs, “I love you” he says as he kisses you.

Pulling away, with all the feeling in your heart, you say “I love you too”. 

A/N: This was originally supposed to be pure filth but I can’t help myself, I had to make it fluff in the end or else my heart would’ve died 😭 You don’t have to consider the alternate ending the “real” one if you don’t want to! This story can be enjoyed both ways. 

Enjoy your stories being a little rough? This story featuring Sukuna might also be to your liking!

[duskier]

We all know and love ex boyfriend Simon who just can't accept that you're broken up, now hear me out- that trope but the reader is just as toxic.

cw sadistic/mean reader, cheating, reader/nameless character smut but no reader/Ghost smut, brief mention of violence against Ghost but its like two lines

Maybe you're a military member yourself in a different squad, traveling about the world and kicking ass on your own. Love yourself a good fling here and there, you hate being tied down. Nothing worse than someone clingy, attached, at home expecting something from you after a long day when all you want to do during leave is drink and sleep and take long hot showers.

But something about Simon wriggled itself in the back of your mind long ago, growing worse ever since he had the nerve to deny your break up speech. You can't get him out of there, as much as you try. Makes you fucking hate him, makes anger roll in your stomach at the mere thought of him. Smelling someone smoking the same brand of cigarettes as him alone has you on edge.

You want to beat the audacity out of him, get him on the ground and make him fucking apologize for living inside your head like he belonged there. You touch yourself thinking about him sobbing, speech slurred by how swollen his bleeding lips are as he begs for you. You cum thinking about using him as a toy- he is a toy, nothing more, he couldn't be anything more, you dumped him after all--

You decide to punish him. Every hookup you have, you start showing Simon proof- the only texts you ever send to him, his normal polite messages ignored. He decides you're still dating? Bet seeing you cheat would rile him up then, maybe make him finally get sick of you and fuck off- both in your head and in real life. It started off simple, bite marks and hickeys right where Simon knows you like it, courtesy of a gentleman in Tokyo. Next, just a sliver of skin around your hips, nothing explicit he could get off to but enough for Simon to see the finger shaped bruises in your soft skin, left by a gorgeous woman who's perfume permeated your hotel for days after. Next time you're less kind, a photo taken in the mirror of your legs spread open, pussy glistening and dripping with some stranger's cum. That one had Simon trying to call you seconds after the little 'read' notification popped up and you couldn't help but laugh as you let it ring. Even when you were together you had never let Simon do that to you.

When even the photos got boring to you, and they still didn't stop Simon from sending you sappy photos and texts (who still sends good morning texts? Are we in high school? Grow up,) you decided to escalate again. Your newest hookup was enthusiastic about the idea when you presented it to him, and he proudly took a video from his point of view while fucking you from the back. You didn't force any noises, this guy was good enough to have you sounding like a whore on his own. You wouldn't remember his name to save your life, but you'd never forget his dick.

"F-f-fuck, that's it baby, so much better than-" Your own moan cut off your line, you'd planned to say it specifically because you wanted it to hurt but just the thought of how it would really tear Simon open had you clenching down harder on your partner's cock. Fucking thing was splitting you open, wet slapping noises echoing in the hotel room you'd booked for the night.

Surprise overtook you as your partner grabbed you by the throat with his spare hand, his thumb forcing you to crane your neck awkwardly to the side. Better view for the camera, sick bastard.

"Better than who, doll? C'mon, say it nice and loud for the camera now."

"Christ, fuck, so much better than Simon! Fucking l-loser can't even get it through his head I dumped him six months ago- ohh don't stop I'm so fuckin close--"

-and your partner cuts the video off there, dropping your phone to the mattress in favor of gripping both hands on your hips, fingertips digging in for purchase as he picks up his pace. You gleefully snatch the phone, your text to Simon undoubtedly filled with typos from how hard you were being pounded.

"Can't even wait to send it? Fucking slut."

A keening sound came from your throat as you watched the video's upload progression bar. "Just shut up and keep going, ahh- still so close--"

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

3AM

Prompt Day 14: Angst with a Happy Ending | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Post-S4, Self-Sabotage, Post Break-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, Eddie POV

it's all gonna end, and it might as well be my fault

Eddie can't sleep. Hasn't been able to in weeks. Not since Steve's been gone. Eddie ran him off for good this time, he's pretty sure. You can only push someone away so hard, for so long, before they actually listen and stay gone.

Steve has stayed away this time. And Eddie's been too stubborn to just call him, and say he's sorry. That he didn't mean it. That, of course, this thing between them is something real. The look on Steve's face when Eddie'd argued that this was just fumbling hands and mouths, just fucking, just bullshit, is seared into Eddie's mind. He can't see anything else but that look on Steve's face. That hurt.

That hurt, he caused. 

Just because he was scared. He pushed Steve away before Steve had the chance to leave on his own. Jesus H. Christ, he's a goddamn idiot. 

He rolls over onto his other side, and decides that's not any better, and rolls back again. He looks at the clock, and it's three a.m. It's useless. He climbs out of bed, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter. He walks out onto the porch, and lights one up. Inhaling deeply.

He looks down the street, and sees a familiar car parked along the curb. 

Eddie's barely dressed, just a t-shirt and his boxers, but he heads down the sidewalk. He leans down to look inside the car, and Steve is looking back at him. 

Eddie flicks his cigarette away, knowing he can't smoke in Steve's car, and slides inside. 

"What are you doing out here?" Eddie asks. 

"Couldn't sleep," Steve says quietly, leaning his head back against the headrest. 

"Same," Eddie says.

"Sorry for lurking," Steve says, eyes closed.

Eddie just hums in acknowledgement that he heard Steve. 

"Is this ever gonna get better? Between us?" Steve asks. 

"There is no us," Eddie says. And it's mean. Too mean. He's just tired.

"Yeah, trust me. I'm aware you don't want me around. That's a signal I actually read loud and clear." 

"Steve." 

"I know. Don't bother. I'm bullshit." 

"You're not bullshit. Stop saying that," Eddie says, cutting a look his way. 

"Then why don't you love me? Why doesn't anyone ever want me to love them?" 

All Eddie wants is for Steve to love him.

"Steve, this has nothing to do with you." 

Steve laughs, low and dry. It's cynical. 

"Yeah. It's not me. Right. It's never me." 

Eddie reaches over and touches Steve's thigh, "It's not. It's me. You're too good for me. You're going places." 

Steve laughs, a little unhinged. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"But you could. You should. Run. Flee. Get out of this town and never look back." 

"Well, that's not happening. So, I guess I'll just stay here and be miserable. And you can stay and be miserable, and we'll both just be miserable."

Eddie hates to hear Steve sound this weary.

"You don't want me," Eddie says.

"You're all I want! How do you not know that?" Steve yells in the confined space, scrubbing his hand over his face, pinching his nose. He's worn out. Exhausted. Eddie can tell, and he hates it.

"Steve, I don't-"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have been out here. You don't have to talk to me. You don't have to do anything with me," Steve says, turning the key over, bringing the engine of his car to life.

It's Eddie's cue to go. Eddie knows that, but he can't seem to make himself budge. He thinks if he does, that this might be the last time he ever sees Steve Harrington.

And as much as Eddie doesn't want to drag Steve down with him, he can't seem to let him go. Not again.

"Steve," Eddie tries again, and Steve's put the car in drive and has pulled up the few feet to the little house they moved into after the trailer collapsed into that split in the earth.

"We're at your stop," Steve says, eyes forward, not looking at him.

"I just want-"

"Either get out now, or I'm leaving and you're coming home with me."

Eddie crosses his arms, not reaching for the door handle, and true to his word Steve pulls away from the curb. 

It's a quiet ride back to his big, empty house. When Eddie gets out, he's acutely aware he's in his underwear and has no shoes. But he follows Steve into the house, and straight up the carpeted staircase. 

Steve pushes open the door to his bedroom, and starts undressing. Stripping down to his underwear, crawling in bed. 

That's when he finally looks at Eddie, and stretches his arm out. An open invitation. 

Eddie takes it.

He slides into bed with Steve, and buries his face in Steve's chest. Steve wraps both arms around him, and holds him close. Resting his chin on the top of Eddie's head.

"Are you done being an idiot?" Steve finally asks. Soft and quiet in the darkness.

"Yeah," Eddie says, because he is.

Eddie's quiet for a few seconds, then laughs, "You kidnapped me."

"Guess you shouldn't get into cars with strangers, then," Steve says, teasing, pulling him closer, "See you in the morning."

And Eddie knows it's Steve's way of saying Eddie better be right here when he wakes up. Eddie understands that fully, and he will be. He's done running. He loves him too much. Even if deep down, Eddie thinks Steve would be better off without him.

Eddie's eyes are heavy, the lack of sleep hitting him hard. He closes his eyes, and that's it.

The sun is streaming through the windows, and right into Eddie's eyes. He whines, and rolls over, cuddling against Steve who is still sleeping through the onslaught of sunlight ushering in the brand new day.

They have a lot of things to work out, Eddie knows that, but he is also certain that he never wants to run from Steve Harrington.

Notes: Title and lyric at the top is from Matchbox Twenty's song 3AM. Thank you Spotify for feeding this to me when I didn't have an idea for this prompt, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[sports-on-sundays]

OMG!! run away part two please?

run away / Marc Guiu / PART 2

Summary: Marc x girlfriend!reader - Things have gone wrong, but searching for a solution seems difficult. Angst.

Warnings: getting drunk to ease pain, mention of sex, smoking, censored swearing, mention of being touched sexually by strangers, vomiting, headache, despair, mention of suicide

Requested?: Uh huh

Author's Note: Gosh sorry this kind of looks really dark. Link to part 1

Yes. It's like how everything was, years ago.

It's like how everything was before him.

Your Marc, who now you're avoiding like the plague.

You're a wreck, and you know it, and you'll admit it. But you've been here before, so no matter how terrible it is, and how much you hate it, at least you know you can make it through.

Hopefully.

You blocked Marc's number, and everyone else's and you're alone.

Literally.

You have no one to rely on, and nothing to get you through but alcohol.

Well, you do have a new friend, but not a real friend. She's just the kind of person who has sex with every guy who's half hot and smokes cigarettes to look sexy. The kind that will tell you to indulge, let loose, calm down. Try something new and risky, and stop caring about what your conscience says in the morning.

Now she stands, arms crossed, leaning against the cold outdoor wall of the club you hate going to but still end up at anyway, covered in sweat and glitter, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

You don't even ask about the glitter.

"I saw I guy you might be into in there. Come on. I know your cash for the week is out, but I'll buy you a couple more drinks. I think you'll have fun with him."

You frown. "I don't want to mess with some guy."

"You'll feel f*cking better. Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't know," you murmur breathy, hitting your head against the back of the wall.

"Well either have some fun and wash your tears down with alcohol or actually get your life in order, because clearly you're miserable in this in-between place," she comments casually, blowing smoke out through her mouth.

You swallow. You know it's not right, but you let her take your hand and drag you back in the club. You let yourself drink all you want. You let yourself lose your mind like the idiot you are. You let men touch you that you would never, ever let sober.

But it's all in the name of fun, right?

Maybe you're choosing to run away from your problems, but maybe it's more fun that way.

And having fun is all that matters.

Right?

You stumble out of the club, not even aware of how used you've been, how disgusting you should feel. You don't even know where you're going, because your "friend" left you when some creep was touching you however he liked, and there's no way you're getting a taxi now, even if you could, since all your money is out.

You can't go to your parents like this, and you've sworn off ever seeing Marc again, which means the only thing you can do is either fall asleep in some alley or somehow walk yourself back to your one room apartment.

You trip on the curb and bend over, practically mindlessly vomiting into a storm drain, and are about to keep walking when suddenly, there are strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

It's nighttime. You're drunk. You're in a bad part of the city.

You gasp and scream, aimlessly thrashing, tears that constantly threaten to fall beginning to stream down your face, "Let go of me! Help!"

But suddenly you freeze, when you hear a familiar voice practically shout in your ear, "Calm down! It's just me!"

You breathe a little slower and calm down, putting your hand on the strong around wrapped around your middle. You know that voice. It's someone good, you think. Someone who wants to help you.

The person gently turns you around, and you freeze when you see who it is.

"Marc... Let go..." you breathe, your vision wobbly.

"No..." he breathes, and the last thing you remember is the horrified look in his glimmering eyes.

Your eyes slowly blink open, and you know you've been here before.

You're laying on Marc's couch, in his living room, in his home.

Emotions hit you like a bullet train. Guilt, fear, regret, anger, despair.

You groan softly as you sit up, becoming aware of your pounding headache. You're still wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes from last night, and as those cursed memories come flooding back, all you want to do is tear off the wretched clothes and wash off all that shame in a warm bath.

But the first thing you have to do is get the f*ck out of Marc's home.

You can't admit to yourself that Marc is the answer. After how much he hurt you? He can't be.

You don't know what the answer is, and you know it's not what you're doing right now, either.

You're starting to think there is no answer.

And then you look up, to see him walking in. He's so strong and perfect. Literally no blemishes. Perfect body, perfect hair, perfect, face, perfect everything.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Nothing like you.

But not a perfect personality, you remind yourself.

But just being in the presence of him, and knowing how he saw you last night- the shame is almost too much to bear.

Marc sits down next to you and takes your shaking hand, which you don't like.

"We never officially broke up, you know. We just had that argument, and you left, and cut me off completely. You disappeared, Y/n. Not even your parents knew where you were..."

You look up, and see the pain in his eyes.

Oh God.

"Y/n," he says softly. His voice quivers slightly. "I didn't know if you were alive... And..." You're surprised to hear his voice crack. "I thought that could have been my f*cking fault."

You stare, mouth hanging open. On the first few tries, you can't even speak, before you manage softly, "You thought... I killed myself?"

He sticks his thumb and pointer finger in his eyes seeming to be pushing the tears to stay inside as he slowly nods. "I didn't think it... I just worried... maybe..."

He swallows hard, and you see the tiredness in his eyes now.

Suddenly, just like that, you break down. You bury your face in your hands in start crying. About how terrible you've been, and about how terrible you feel, and about how much you still can't imagine staying with Marc.

It's not like you don't cry often. But you never run out of tears, either. You're not sure if you love Marc's hand slowly rubbing your back or hate it.

Finally you swallow gaining more control of yourself, and Marc gives your back a little pat, saying, "Those close don't look very comfy. I'll get you some."

So soon you sit, staring tear-stained and vacantly ahead, warmed by Marc's clothes on the outside, but cold as stone in your heart.

"You're the one who started this all, anyway..." you breathe, barely a whisper, hating the words coming out of your mouth. "What if I had killed myself? Maybe you f*cking deserve that pain."

He holds his face in his hands now. Sits next to you silently for a few second, before saying, his voice cracking, "Oh, God..."

"Well?" you stare, face hard.

He swallows and says, "I'm sorry... I love y-"

"If you did, you wouldn't have-"

"I do love you! In a relationship, we're going to have to work through things! If you refuse-"

"Shut up!" you suddenly scream, plugging your ears and letting out a dry sob.

When you unplug your ears, you can hear Marc breathing heavily. He keeps his face buried in his hands, but you're not stupid. You know he's crying. Then he mutters through tears, "I don't want to hurt you. But you'll be harmed even more if we don't work through this. We can't pretend it's all okay. And running away won't do you any good, either."

You stare ahead, silent.

"I know I'm in the wrong, too," he breathes, his voice cracking. "Y/n, I thought you f*cking killed yourself. That's what I was worried about. Panicking about. That because I was a bad boyfriend, you killed yourself. I've thought about what I've been doing wrong. I have. I'm too harsh with you sometimes. A lot. I start discussions at the wrong times. Instead of arguing, we should be discussing. I should be gentler with you. You're delicate."

"No I'm f*cking not," you whisper.

"Yes, you are. And it's okay. You've been through a lot. We're all f*cking fragile. I just want to take care of you. Help you. Keep you from cracking, breaking more." He swallows. "But not discussing anything isn't how to do that. Discussions will help us grow. Facing problems will help them be fixed. Ignoring them, turning your back to them, will just make it easier for them to catch us off guard when we're not looking. Then our relationship really will be ruined." He hesitates, before finishing with, "Don't you f*cking see we need each other? You're a wreck without me, and I'm a wreck without you. We both need f*cking therapy, but the first step is communication."

You nod slowly, hesitantly, before whispering, "Why do you still want me?"

"What do you mean?"

"After seeing me so drunk and disgusting and-"

"Because I f*cking love you."

Just those words hit you like a shot to the heart.

You breath in sharply.

But then you stand up, murmuring, "Can- Can I get going now?" You start heading from the door.

"No!" he suddenly says, rushing to grab your arm. He turns you around and buries you in the biggest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever felt.

And he buries his face in your shoulder.

His voice cracks again as he murmurs into you, in pure desperation, "Please, Y/n. Stay. For your own good. I need you."

You swallow, slowly, awkwardly, weakly wrapping your arms around him back.

What other option do I have?

What good am I really getting out of the stupid clubbing? Every night I have fun, but every morning I'm sick.

"I just want to wake up content and go to bed content," you whisper.

He squeezes you tighter. "If we work on it, someday, we can reach that. We can. Together. Please."

You swallow.

He's my last and only chance.

You swallow and nod. "Alright, Marc," you breathe. "May- Maybe. Yes. Just, please... don't break me."

"Not in a million years," he breathes, and you feel like he might never let go of you.

[next-autopsy]

A/N: Well, hi there! Don't hate me for this chapter, I was going to have the girls enjoy a nice night out and then I started writing and this came out so....... sorry x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: some swearing, drinking, very very brief mention of blood/death (nothing major), lieb is a dick for no reason … thats all i think?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter eighteen: A Night to Remember

Choosing Johnny as her sparring partner had been a blessing and a curse. 

On one hand, he was helping her learn properly. Birdie was finally able to defend and attack against someone who was fully willing to brawl her correctly. 

On the other hand, he wasn’t holding back. At all. And, by God, he had a strong swing. 

Bernadette had asked for this and she knew it would be beneficial in the long run, but each hit Johnny landed maybe her regret pushing for extra lessons. 

The instructor had given them small breaks for water during their hour-long lesson and when it was over, demanded they all stretch so their muscles wouldn’t ache too badly the next day. The seven women chatted while doing so, and the topic of weekend passes came up. 

The entire group had not yet been out drinking together, two or three maybe but not all seven, so when they figured out this weekend would be the first they all held a pass, excitement spread. 

Johnny shook his head playfully at the women as they yapped about which bar to visit on the rare occasion. He smiled hearing Bernadette mention introducing her friends, she was enlivened by the thought of the women she had come to call sisters meeting the men she thought of as brothers. The grin on her face was unlike any other and Johnny’s heart warmed thinking of the young lady who had wiggled her way into the center of Easy company and cemented bonds with a large portion of the guys. 

She was Easy’s little sister. 

The image of her splashed with scarlet red blood and lifeless eyes flashed into his mind and Martin involuntarily shivered. It was like the first time he even thought of the southern girl's death, like it wasn’t a possibility before now. If anything happened to her, Easy might just fall apart. Johnny began praying for her every night after that vision of her demise. 

—-----------------------------------------------

“I’m not going.” 

“What? You gotta! It won’t be the same without you.” Blythe begged, quite literally on her knees. Francesca was attempting to weasel her way out of the joyfully dubbed ‘girl’s night’ as they were getting ready. Charlotte passed the red lipstick along to the next girl waiting for the prized makeup, while Birdie sat on the floor in front of her cot and held still as Connie styled her hair, she had convinced Birdie to let her curl it down and leave it flowy. 

“Tell her, Birdie!” Blythe whined to the Corporal, Lucy rolled her eyes at the redhead while fixing her tie. The women were in their dress green and most had opted for the skirt and kitten heeled option for the night out. Only Lucy and Francesca wore the trousers and boots. 

“Yeah, she actually listens to you.” Charlotte added, passing Birdie her lit smoke and the southern girl was still unable to move much. Bernadette gave the Italian woman a pleading look, the best puppy dog eyes she could muster, “Please?” And Frankie folded. Rolling her eyes she grabbed her jacket and sighed, “Fine.”

“Yay! This is going to be so fun!” The chatty redhead jumped up and down, excited to have the full team going out. 

After putting on final touches and ensuring all seven were ready and weren’t forgetting anything, the group left their barracks. 

Five out of seven ladies immediately pulled out smokes and lit them up to combat the chill of the evening air. Only sweet young Connie and the brunette Betty, who don’t partake in puffing cigarettes, were left out of exhaling smoke clouds. Instead the duo led the group, followed by Lucy and Blythe, arm in arm then Birdie and Charlotte either side of Francesca, blocking her in so she couldn't sneak off and return to the barracks.

The group of girls had to split up into two cabs, luckily a whole row of drivers were lined up, waiting to make money off of soldiers needing rides to the nearest bar. Toye had told Birdie which bar he and most of Easy company were planning on visiting that night and she had convinced the girls to spend their time there: The Black Rose, it was called. 

Before entering the drinking establishment, they could hear the rowdy men inside who had apparently started off the night with a drinking competition. Birdie suggested a few of them stay sober to look out for the ladies who would be drinking and urged the women to all leave together around midnight. All the girls agreed, Connie opted not to drink as she was still eighteen, by that logic Birdie and Blythe, who were nineteen and twenty respectively, volunteered to stay sober too. 

A smoky haze filled the bar, Birdie couldn’t hear herself think, that's how loud the men were hollering. The group of women took a moment to look around before Lucy took everyone's drink order before linking arms with Blythe and skipping off to the bar. 

Meanwhile, Birdie had spotted Toye and waved over at him. He had secured a table which had a few empty seats, so Bernadette ushered her girls over his way. 

“You look gorgeous, Birdie.” Toye told her, pulling her in for a hug. He noticed the stares her dolled up look was getting and decided he was on guard tonight. 

“Little Bird!” Guarnere slurred, his drunkenness already rearing its head, “You gonna introduce me to these… beautiful ladies?” Bill slung his arm around Bernadette's shoulders, he winked in their general direction, earning scoffs and rolled eyes. Birdie cringed, it was like watching a sibling flirt and embarrass himself, he wasn’t even good at it, but that could be the alcohol.

“Calm down, Syphilis. They ain’t interested.” She twisted his arm off of her and let it drop down.

“Ah, so this is your diseased friend?” Charlotte smirked, turning to Connie who giggled at the Able company woman’s comment. Bill did not look impressed, he glared at Birdie and mouthed a ‘what the fuck?’ her way. She only grinned at the Italian man and began proper introductions. 

The men at this table were some of her closest friends, of course Bill and Toye were the first she announced, followed by the trio who could not be separated; Malarkey, Skip and Alex. Sitting partially behind them was Bull, Johnny and Lipton who gave polite smiles and head nods as Birdie mentioned the men by name. 

Lucy and Blythe joined them with a tray of drinks, the pair handed them to their fellow woman and Birdie briefly repeated the introductions for the two who missed it.

“Aaaand which one has Herpes?” Lucy leered, hoping to pull a reaction from the man in question. It worked, of course, Bill huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Birdie! Stop telling everyone I have diseases!” 

—----------

It truly was a night to remember. 

Even without drinking, Birdie enjoyed having her ladies out and in such a carefree environment. She dragged the women to the dancefloor early on and began teaching them how to line dance, Blythe, Betty and Connie picked it up quickly while Charlotte and Lucy struggled to keep up with the quick steps. Francecsca refused to try and watched from her table, laughing when Charlotte and Lucy returned to her in defeat. Soon the men wanted in on the merriment and took turns begging the women to dance with them and sung their praises afterwards.

Frankie sat in the corner smoking and observing for the majority of the night, Toye had joined her and the two got on surprisingly well, sitting in silence and sharing smokes. That's when George Luz found them and started throwing jokes left and right, trying to impress the moody pair. Rossi saw right through the jokesters mask, she recognised his heart shaped eyes and knew exactly where they were aimed. 

Charlotte drank a surprising amount; Skip, Alex and Don had challenged her to a drinking contest and pretty soon after losing Birdie had to cut off her supply but she had bribed someone to bring her another gin and tonic within seconds of being banned from the bar. The southern woman assigned Betty to watch the highly intoxicated lady until they were prepared to leave.

Lucy and Blythe disappeared to the bathroom together every five minutes, which raised Birdie's eyebrows. How had she missed that? And Connie was being spun around on the dancefloor from partner to partner as she hadn’t the heart to tell the men she’d had enough.

Bernadette looked around at her girls, it was getting late and probably time to saunter home. Charlotte was near passed out and Connie was starting to look tired. She made the executive decision to call it a night, making her way to Frankie to share her revelation. 

Frankie wholeheartedly agreed, feeling like a third wheel as the more Toye had drunk, the more he returned Luz’s looks. It was subtle, not many would notice the shared glances or how each man checked the other out while they thought no one was watching. 

Francesca noticed. The whole night, she saw it all. 

Birdie rounded up the women, bringing them to the table Frankie was stationed at, her job was to keep them there and not let them wander off. 

Lucy and Blythe were in giggle fits about something that probably wasn’t that funny and Betty was trying to keep Charlotte awake but she wasn’t doing great, the Able company woman slumped over on the table top ungracefully. 

Birdie had to physically tear Connie away from the line of men waiting to dance with the blonde, she told the girls she had to run to the bathroom quickly and then they were leaving. No more drinks, no more dancing. Two minutes maximum. And she scurried off to the back of the establishment where a corridor led off to the restrooms. 

—--------

“Just admit you’re interested in her, man.” Tipper shrugged casually at his friend. Joe only scoffed and shook his head, as if the man had suggested something completely absurd. 

“I mean, it’s kinda obvious…” Ed trailed off, he was winding his buddy up and he knew it. The pair had stepped aside from the noise of the crowds in attempts for a reprieve, but the second Edward had brought up the girl from Mississippi, Liebgott stiffened. 

“I think you should tell her-”

“I‘m not interested in her.” Joe cut off Tip’s words, his hands were curled up into fists even though he would never dream of hitting his friend, it was more like a stress relief. 

Joe’s back was to a corridor, while Tipper half faced it as he stood beside his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed saw the shadows in the semi lit corridor move. Joe began speaking again at the same time Ed recognised the shady figure but by then it was too late to tell him to shut his mouth. 

“Bernadette Coldwell is a stuck up princess. My type ain’t arrogant, conceited bitches who don’t know when to shut up.” Liebgott’s voice was venomous, he glared at Ed for a moment before noticing his stance. Tip was uncomfortable, his face was scrunched up as he half cringed, half winced and that’s when Joe noticed his eyes flick to something behind him. Lieb’s face dropped, he didn't want to turn around, somehow he knew what he would see if he looked behind him and it gave him swirls in his chest. 

Not even two seconds later and Joe felt the unmistakable shove of his shoulder, then he was watching Bernadette stomp past him, her tawny brown hair bouncing with every step. He only saw her face for a split second but the look she carried gave him instant regret, the miserable feeling pooled in his stomach and ached in his chest. He hadn’t meant those harsh words, he didn’t actually think she was conceited or arrogant but he said them and she had heard them. 

Joe stepped out after her, following her through the crowd. He called out her name once, then twice but she kept trudging away from him. 

Birdie was relieved when she found familiar faces. She just wanted to leave, she didn’t know how long Liebgott was standing there talking shit about her but the part she had heard was enough to cut the southern girl deep. She was holding it together for now, but she knew the second someone tried to comfort her, the emotional wall would break and she might cry, hence the desperate need to depart. 

“Y’all ready to go?” Birdie plastered a smile onto her face, hoping the girls wouldn’t notice or maybe they would and help her get out of the bar, pronto. Betty and Connie positioned themselves either side of Charlotte and hoisted her up while Lucy and Blythe linked arms, preparing to leave. 

“What happened?” Frankie walked over to Bernadette, catching sight of the dejected look on her friend's face. The Italian jumped into protection mode, no one gets to give Birdie trouble and get away with it, not while she was around. 

“Nothing. Let's go.” She was obviously hiding something and Francesca wouldn’t let it go that easy. If she didn’t tell her now they would talk about it when they got back to their barracks.

“Someone upset you? Tell me the truth, I can tell when you lie.” 

“I’m fine, can we just go, please?” Bernadette’s shoulders sagged, all she needed in this moment was to get out of the suffocating crowd and envelope herself in peace and quiet so she could sulk at whim. 

“Birdie!” Liebgott caught up with her, pushing his way through the throng of people. Francesca noted the way Birdie’s face changed, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning down. The overprotective Italian looked at the man making his way toward them, she recognised him as the guy who dropped Birdie off late one night and made their entire interaction uncomfortable. Frankie had thought maybe the two were friends, but now she knew they weren’t.

“He upset you?” Rossi whispered to the forlorn woman, “You want me to stab him?” From anyone else that comment could be considered a joke, but Frankie was serious. She subtly brought out her hidden weapon, a blade she always kept on her person, she meant business and wanted Birdie to know the lengths she would go for their friendship.

“No, it’s- uh Rossi…?” Bernadette's gaze switched from her friend's face, to her now occupied hand, “What is that?”

“Knife.” Simple. 

“Wha- Why do you have a knife?” She was beginning to panic, was she going to have to break up a fight in a moment? Birdie was not in the mood for this.

“Bar fights.” She offered little explanation other than that. 

“What the- Put it away.” The southerner pleaded, earning a stern look from Rossi. But she listened and returned the knife to its original hiding spot. 

“Birdie, just let me explain-” Joe had gotten close enough to the girl that he could reach out and touch her. His hand held onto her forearm and tugged her ever so slightly closer to him, so they were now face to face, staring at each other. 

“Don’t you think you’ve said enough?” She didn’t want his explanation, not now while her emotions were running high. Bernadette looked into Joe’s eyes and she could feel tears filling her own. She tried her hardest to hold it back, put on a straight face but her bottom lip wobbled and her brows scrunched up. 

Joe watched the emotions run across her features, he couldn’t pull his focus from her eyes. They glistened with watery tears, round and wide, making him forget where they were, surrounded by people. He wanted to comfort her, wipe those tears away, kiss her and make it all better. 

Then he remembered why she was about to cry in the first place, he had done that. He had hurt her with his horrid words so much that she was boarderline sobbing. Now all he could do was leave her to retreat and lick her wound in private. His hand dropped from where he gripped onto her. 

“...yeah…” He had said enough.

A/N: Ahhh! The angst! Joe why would you say that?!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter nineteen

[theintelligenceoflove]

Love Isn’t Greed; a Sam One Shot

Summary: You (mreader) and Sam have been togeather for a couple years. You Think everything is going well until Sam sits you down to have a conversation, a conversation that feels very much like a break up. OR the one were I make Sammy Nonbinary bc this is FICTION it’s FICTIONAL!

Pairing: Sam/MReader

Warnings: none

A/N: This fic is for my tiny following of non-cis GVF fans I’ve amassed in the last few days but specifically for @puzzle-gvf for taking me in and being a friend.

If you don’t think gay men can date/have relationships with non-men without having to change their identity you don’t know gay history and I, as someone who is about to defend his MA thesis about gay men am here to tell you you’re wrong. 

You hadn't seen Sam this nervous since sitting you down and talking about the reality of being in a relationship with a closeted rockstar. Sam kept pushing hair back and shaking it back down, more restless than you'd ever seen Sam. 

"Babe?" You asked; this wasn't unlike how Sam had acted before that other hard discussion. Sam had sat you down and drank almost an entire cup of coffee before finally launching into a monologue about how it would suck hiding, but it would be worth it. Thankfully the two of you wouldn't have to do anything groundbreaking; Sam's oldest brother Josh and his partner Randy had written the blueprint. All the two of you had to do was follow it. 

"Sammy," you said when Sam hadn't responded yet, "what's wrong?" slowly, thoughts of the worst crept in. Although it had been hard, Sam had finally decided it was too hard and was done trying. The relationship, the stress of keeping it private, was too much, and Sam wanted out. 

"I like it when you call me that," it was the first thing Sam had said since asking you to sit down as soon as you went home. Home, it was Sam's house; you had an apartment not too far away. But you spent most of your time here with Sam, the dogs. You had a toothbrush on the bathroom counter and the two bottom drawers of Sam's dresser. You had left books and records and all kinds of things here. It was home; you didn't know what you would do if Sam was gearing up to tell you you were no longer welcome. 

“You hate being called Sammy.” You said but were met with a head shake from Sam. 

"Not when you say it," You smiled; it was slowly feeling less and less like you were getting broken up with. Still, Sam didn't stop looking so nervous. 

“Do you need a hair tie?” You asked as Sam huffed as hair fell down out of the twist. 

“I need a cigarette.” Sam said not watching you wrinkle your nose. You hated that Sam smoked but had long ago decided that there were worse drugs for rock stars to be doing. 

"I don't have a cigarette but I do have-" You held up your dab pen but were met with another head shake. 

"No after if- if you're still here we can smoke I've got-" Sam huffed, and now you were twice as confused, not sure what Sam could possibly tell you that would have you leave. Only for a moment as fear settled in your stomach. Rock stars had access to all kinds of drugs, but they also had a near-unlimited supply of casual sex. You had never been jealous of fans, or the attention they got, knowing Sam was always coming home to you, but suddenly, it wasn't the fans, not the real fans, it was the other ones, the groupies always following Sam, more than even you could, that came to mind. 

Sam, however, didn't offer anything. Leaving you spiraling, when you had taken a couple quick breaths and still Sam hadn't said anything, you stuttered out, "Sammy did you-" but you weren't sure how to ask if the love of your life had cheated. 

"Did I-" Sam's brow furrowed before a shocked look crossed Sam's face. "I didn't cheat y/n, I wouldn't." 

You nodded, relief flooding your body. You didn't need to hear anything else. You trusted Sam more than anyone else in your life. You trusted that you would be told if Sam had cheated, so all you needed was to be told there hadn’t been cheating. 

“So you didn’t cheat, I don’t think you’re breaking up with me, so-” 

“No, jesus christ y/n why would you think I was breaking up with you?” Sam looked less nervous just then, more shocked than anything else. 

"Well," You started, fears being relieved even more as Sam reached across and held your hand. "You sit me down as soon as I get here and tell me you have something to say. You look more nervous than I've ever seen you; even when we started this journey together, you weren't this nervous. So unless-" You suddenly felt cold as Sam squeezed your hand. 

“Unless someone found out.” Again a head shake from Sam. 

"No, I think if that happened, the whole band would be here. If that happened, I'd need my brothers; Josh would know what to do." You nodded, not surprised that Sam relied so heavily on Josh in this and all other matters. The youngest had always looked up to Josh more than the others. You'd thought about that often, what would happen if someone had seen you two. It might be a weight off your shoulders; you and Sam could be public, and Josh and Randy would likely follow. How much easier it would be if it was Josh and Randy forging the path for Sam and you. But no matter how much easier you thought that might be, you couldn't imagine the strain it would put Sam under; no matter how much you wished to hold Sam's hand walking down the street, you didn't wish for that to happen. 

"Then what's wrong, babe?" You asked; it was your turn to squeeze Sam's hand, your other hand coming up to cup Sam's hand in both of yours. 

"Being a gay man is so important to you," Sam said, voice cracking. This was true; half of the conversation at the official beginning of your and Sam's relationship was the difficulty of you returning to the closet, at least a little. You had never once hidden your sexuality, fighting too hard to be seen and seen as equal. It was occasionally a sore spot; you couldn't understand what kept Sam in the closet. There were plenty of gay musicians, hell, Freddie Mercury had done it in the 70s and 80s, and Elton John was still doing it. Only once did you ever storm out of Sam's house in anger, and it had been after shouting those exact things at your partner. 

"Yes?" You dared not get your hopes up that maybe, just maybe, Sam was thinking about going public. Josh would know what to do, you thought; Sam would never make that decision without Josh right there as well. 

"What if-" Sam's hand was clammy between yours. All the nerves were back, and you still couldn't imagine what Sam might say. You didn't know how much longer you could handle this before you told Sam to say what needed to be said. "What if you weren't in a relationship with a man." 

You blinked at Sam momentarily, your hands tightening on Sam's. You watched as Sam tried not to show any emotion, but you saw, as Sam blinked, a tear forming. "If I wasn't-" You breathed and thought about how far you and Sam had come. 

Your little local band had gotten a spot at a rock festival a couple years ago, one that Sam's band was headlining. You didn't really think you'd get to meet Greta Van Fleet, worried they would think your band was stealing their gig, being an old rock-style band. Granted, you and your band were trying for a more southern rock sound than the hard-hitting rock that Greta had. Sam had been interested, though, and had sought you and your band out after the show. And that was the beginning of a relationship you could have never dreamed up. It had been hard; Sam wanted you to give more time to your music and thought you and your band could be bigger and better if you applied yourself more. It didn't help to point out that Sam had spent the important early years of Greta living with parents who paid rent and fed them. You and your band had no such luxury though you had become popular locally, had hired an agent, you all still had other jobs, and the band hardly paid for itself. But still, Sam supported you, even as Greta also needed attention. 

"Would I still-" You took a breath, thinking about what you wanted to say. At first, you thought maybe Sam was breaking up with you, as if Sam thought your not being in a relationship meant you stopped being gay. But that was silly, and Sam had already said this wasn't a breakup. Your heart was beating wildly as you took another breath. 

When you met Sam, there had been a softness; at first, you thought it was the hair. You'd lovingly called the mess of shoulder-length waves "glen frey" hair. But there had always been something else to the softness, the way Sam would sit, the daintiness that neither Jake nor Josh had despite similar body types. 

You caught Sam's eyes; there were tears now. So you pulled yourself out of your thoughts; you took the hand that had been on the top of Sam's and reached forward, wiping away a tear. 

"I love you more than anything Sammy, I don't need you to be a man for that." You said; a sob ripped itself out of Sam's chest. You wished you weren't at the table, that Sam had sat the two of you on the couch so you could pull this beautiful human into your arms. Instead of that, you stood up, never letting go of Sam's hand. You walked around the table and pulled Sam up into your arms. 

"Shhh, shhh." you wrapped your arms around Sam as the sobs kept coming, Sam's face pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You ran your hand through Sam's hair; though you had been given no verbal confirmation, you were sure you were right, at least in part. You couldn't know exactly, not until Sam calmed down enough to tell you, but it didn't matter right now. 

“Come on Sammy.” You pulled back a little, pushing a stray strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Lets go sit on the couch.” 

Wordlessly, Sam nodded, so you took Sam's hand and walked from the kitchen table to the living room couch, pulling Sam into your lap. 

"I love you so much Sammy." you said as Sam wrapped arms and legs around you. Again Sam's face was in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, so you kissed Sam's temple. "It was never for your gender; it was your heart, your mind, and-" You tipped Sam's head up by Sam's chin, smiling down, "you are the hottest in the band.” Sam smiled at that. 

"I love the way you care about your family, the way you look up to Josh is, it makes me wish I had been a better older brother for my younger siblings. I love the way you care about your music, and how you genuinely think your music might help make the world a better place." You leaned down, kissing Sam, soft and sweet. 

"I love you y/n," Sam said, voice shaky. "I don't- I don't know where to start." 

You took Sam's face in your hands. "Where ever you want Sammy, it's okay, I'm right here, not going anywhere," you promised. 

You had about a million questions, just related to Sam; none of them even began to touch what this meant for you; Sam was right. Being a gay man did mean a lot to you; it was maybe the most important identity you held, even more than being a musician. But here, the person in your arms was as important. Reckoning those two things would happen. You could not imagine a world where they clashed so hard you had to choose one over the other. 

"Josh knows," Sam said, having wiggled out of your hold. Sam was sitting across from you, staring at where your knees were touching. "I told him last year. I'm sorry I didn't-" 

"No, shh." You reached out where Sam was picking a loose thread on the couch, covering nervous hands. "Don't be sorry about that." Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“I told Josh and he- I think he suspected for a while, but. I told Jake and Danny and they were- well of course Danny was okay with it, and I didn’t think Jake wouldn’t be okay with it it was just-” Sam trailed off. You didn’t say anything this time, letting Sam organize what needed to be said. 

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” Sam held a finger up to your lips when you went to interrupt and say it was okay. “I’m not apologizing, I'm telling it so we can get to your questions.” You smiled and kissed Sam’s finger loving the blush that spread across Sam’s cheeks. 

"I didn't mean to keep it from you, I was scared, and then." Sam smiled. "And then Randy told me I should break up with you because you kept misgendering me. When I told him that I hadn't told you yet, he told me if I was that worried about your reaction I should break up with you and I realized he was right." 

You felt, not for the first time, your stomach drop. Sam must have realized what had been said, speaking so quickly it was hard to understand. 

“So I told you.” Sam finally said so you could understand. “I realized that Randy was right. I should decide if your reaction was so scary that I couldn’t tell you and I decided it wasn’t. You’ve always been kind about Danny’s partner, never once misgendering them, hell, your fucking drummer is a transman and you talk about being queer as much as being gay so I just-” Sam took a breath that wavered at the end, like crying was on the horizon. 

"I want to use they/them pronouns." Sam said, their eyes closed tight. "Sometimes I think about using other pronouns, I've tried some others I- Once Josh used 'she' for me and I-" Sam's voice wavered and cracked. 

“I’m not a woman y/n I swear I just-” 

"I did drag in college." you said, "Nellie Young, I wasn't very good" Sam looked at you, unsure where you were going. "I used she/her pronouns in drag, and I know for me it's not the same, but I hung out with a lot of drag queens, and some of them are men, some of them aren't men, most of them use she/her some of them don't." 

Sam nodded, biting their cuticle, nervous, but at least they knew where you were going. "Sammy, if you told me you were a woman," You took a deep breath, "I would have a lot of reevaluating to do, but I know my queer history, I know that gay men have always fucked around with gender, and they have always fucked around with people who fuck around with gender and it never once made them less gay." 

Sam smiled, the first real, un-nervous smile all night, so you took their hand in yours so they stopped biting at their nails, kissing their hand before holding it over your heart. "I love you, Sammy." 

“I love you too y/n.” Sam said, looking relaxed. “I liked when Josh used ‘she’ but I didn’t know- I’m not a woman, but I’m not a man, I like nonbinary it’s a kind of freedom to be whatever I want.” 

You nodded, urging Sam on. “I really like my name, I love when you call me Sammy.” You grinned, pushing hair back behind Sam’s ears. 

"So," You said, loving how relaxed and happy Sam looked; you had no idea how you had never realized the weight she was carrying keeping this from you. "Sammy, my partner who uses they/she pronouns." You watched Sam grin. 

"I already call you beautiful," you said, loving the way Sam blushed. "But how do you feel about handsome?" Sam wrinkled their nose, so you nodded, you could only think of one time you'd ever called Sam handsome, and you'd both thought it was so out of place you'd started laughing uncontrollably. 

“I like all the pet names you use.” Sam offered, and you nodded. Sam’s finger came back up to her mouth as she thought. You carefully pulled their hand away as they smiled shyly. “I think that’s it.” 

"If you think of anything else, we can talk about it then." You promised, putting your hands on Sam's hips and dragging them into your lap before you leaned forward and kissed them. The kiss said more than you could probably say with your words. I love you. I support you. I'll always be there. You knew this would change things. Likely in ways you never could imagine. But, as you settled back into the couch, the weight of Sam on top of you, you knew it would be for the best and would bring the two of you closer together.

[whichstoodonrockyshores]

prompt 1, Javier needs comforting from bill during Beaver Hollow??👀👀

Not Alone, Not at All

Prompt 1: “Can you hold me? Please.”

From These Prompts.

Rating: Teen

Summary: Bill’s best friend (and crush), Javier, is missing. After an hour of searching all of Beaver Hollow, Bill searches somewhere he never thought he’d be forced to go again: the caves behind camp.

Fic Under the Cut

Bill had never been more confused in all his life. Everything was way too much for him to handle, with everything piling and building as time passed in Beaver Hollow. The way Dutch and Arthur glared at each other, the disloyalty, Arthur’s illness, and people spending more and more time outside of camp (if they ever returned at all), Bill could tell the family he once held so dear was falling apart before his eyes. The way Dutch was acting wasn’t normal, even Bill could tell that. Arthur, John, all of them? His brothers? They were more suspicious than even Micah, these days.

Well. Except for Javier. Javier was different, he always was. He was the one bright spot in the misty autumn air of Beaver Hollow, the one person who still made sense to Bill. And after almost a month of living at Beaver Hollow, Javier was proving to be Bill’s only real ally in the face of constant judgment, insults, and disloyalty. The man was loyal as ever, and Bill knew he was right. Dutch would lead them out of this situation, with or without Arthur and the rest of them. Dutch wouldn’t give up on them after all these years.

Bill looked around the camp, searching for the man he thought so much of, but he was nowhere to be found. Bill searched every ledge, behind every wagon, but Javier was still nowhere to be found. And that made Bill more nervous than he cared to admit- what if Javier had been lying to him? What if he left Beaver Hollow, left Dutch, left him all alone in the face of the worst crisis the gang has ever experienced?

Bill hoped that wasn’t the case, God he hoped so. Javier was amazing, and so far above him, Bill was shocked they could even hold a conversation without Javier turning up his nose and scoffing at a stupid hick like Bill Williamson. The stupidly handsome man deserved to be in a better situation, to lead a better life than the one he had been leading. That life, the life Javier deserved, Bill couldn’t provide. He was well aware of that fact, despite his many attempts to win the man’s affection.

After an hour of searching the entire camp up and down, Bill was beginning to get genuinely concerned. He sighed, returning to his bedroll near Dutch’s tent when he saw the one place he never searched: the cave the Murfree’s once inhabited. Bill had only been in there once, to dispose of what little was left of Molly’s body after he reduced her corpse into a simple pile of ash, and it was not a pleasant place. It stunk of blood and death due to the previous inhabitants, and it made Bill feel almost claustrophobic, knowing he was closed into such a confined area with only one known exit.

Bill hated the idea of even being in the caves- but Bill knew from the moment he entered the chasm that Javier was hiding in the twists and turns of the caves behind camp. Bill could hear him, the echoes making his small noises and heavy breathing loud and clear.

“…Javier?” Bill called down the cave, and Bill could hear the noises stop and the sound of the rocks under someone’s body shuffling around, “Javier, it’s me, Bill,” he repeated, pushing further into the cave, seeing more and more of the depraved things left by the Murfree Brood the further he retreats into the chasm.

But it doesn’t take long for Bill to spot Javier, quietly sitting against a large rock, smoking a cigarette with one hand and running his fingers over the engraved handle of his knife with his other, repeating the action over and over again. The heels of his boots dig into the loose rocks in front of him, moving his feet back and forth in a satisfying manner. Bill immediately felt like he was intruding on his friend, feeling a strange need to avert his eyes to not interrupt. (Plus, seeing Javier so relaxed was… kind of cute.)

“Uh…hey, Javier,” Bill sighed, and Javier’s actions came to an abrupt halt. He took his hand off of his knife, and his feet crossed over each other. The only action he continued was smoking. Bill almost wanted to ask Javier about his behavior, but Bill knows he has no room to judge Javier (especially when he rocks back and forth, chewing on his fingernails and pulling his hair out when he’s stressed out), so he stayed silent.

“Hey, Bill,” Javier said, not acknowledging his actions when he saw that Bill didn’t mention it, “Didn’t think I’d see you down here.”

“I was lookin’ for you all over!” Bill exclaimed, a bit frustrated with his friend (and crush) for his sudden disappearance when he knew how Bill felt about being by himself, “I…I thought you were leavin’ me,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed red as he admitted that embarrassing fact. Fuck, that sounded pathetic-

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Javier said, pulling Bill back to reality, “I’m in this ‘til the end. Just… needed some time to myself,” Javier explained, looking at Bill as he continued with his rant, “It’s so stressful up there. I don’t know how Dutch can accomplish anything with an atmosphere like that, with all the disloyalty and secrets…” he paused, taking another drag of his cigarette, “We’re supposed to be a family. Why is everyone acting like this?”

“I dunno, Javier. I can’t tell ya why them bastards are actin’ like… well, bastards!” Bill exclaimed, shaking his head, “But… if ya wanna be left alone, I’ll leave ya be. You just had me worried, there.”

Javier seemed to think about it for a moment, considering whether he should let Bill stay or send him back up to camp.

“…Nah. Stay here,” Javier said, something resembling a smile spreading across his face as he looked at Bill, sighing deeply as if he was disappointed to admit his next statement, “You’re the best company I got.”

“…I am?” Bill asked, taking Javier’s box of cigarettes and lighting one of his own, his hands falling to his sides to stroke small, satisfying lines into the gravel, “That’s real sad, Javi, I’m ‘bout the worst company here,” Bill admitted, a low chuckle escaping him.

Javier laughed, too, sighing as his hand returned to the handle of his knife, suddenly much more comfortable around his friend as the mood began to lighten.

“Shut up, cabrón. You’re better company than… say, Micah. Or Strauss, or even… Dutch, right now, with how he’s acting,” Javier sighed, clearly sad to admit the man who saved his life multiple times wasn’t himself at the moment, “You’re too hard on yourself, Williamson. You’re the only loyal one left. It feels that way, at least, and that…that counts for something.”

Bill could feel the heat rising to his face again. God, did that praise feel good after so many days, weeks, even, of being called a fool for following Dutch through these hard times. Bill had so many things he wanted to say, so many ways he wanted to confess his true feelings and express how he felt about the man before him… but all he could say was, “That feels… real nice. If you need anythin’, anythin’ at all… just let me know, and I’ll get it done.”

Javier smiled, clearly appreciating that sentiment…

“Maybe,” Javier began, a nervous look in his eyes as he continued, “Maybe you could hold me? Please.”

Bill almost felt his heart burst at the very idea of having Javier in his arms. The redness in his face just spread, reaching the tips of his ears. Of course Bill wanted to hold Javier, of course he did, but every time he opened his mouth, all that came out was a sputtering sound of sheer surprise. Javier looked confused, to put it simply, turning his head to look at the ground and rubbing on the rough fabric of his poncho.

“Did that come out wrong? You don’t have to-“ Javier said sadly, clearly a bit disappointed before he was suddenly interrupted,

“No! No, I want to, sorry. Sorry,” Bill repeated, wrapping his arms around Javier and pulling him closer, “Just, you surprised me. Folks don’t usually wanna be in my arms, ya know?”

Javier nodded, “Yeah. I get that,” he said, resting his chin on Bill’s shoulder as his hands wrapped around the larger man’s torso, rubbing up and down the material of his brown leather coat, “You just looked…Comfortable,” Javier stated, hoping that came out right, “Thanks for,” everything, Javier thinks, but that sounds way too sappy and strange, “Finding me.”

“‘Course,” Bill said, his smile growing even wider as Javier shuffled even closer to him. Holding his crush in one arm, while the other draws circles into the gravel, the only way this could be better is if Cain joined this cuddle pile. Bill’s arm snaked around Javier, resting on his lower back and staying there (below Javier’s rough, scratchy serape that smelled of mothballs, Bill couldn’t stand that texture).

“So… you think we’ll be okay, Javier?” Bill asked, after minutes of staying in the same position.

“Sure. We’ll be fine, we always have been. Dutch will do us right.”

And Bill was inclined to believe him.

[thebreakfastgenie]

for WIP asks the 4th of july fic.

and ik you were already quite generous with it but would love to hear anything else about 69

Sorry it took so long to get to this one! I was really excited about it and then I was either too busy or too tired to answer it properly!

The 4th of July fic my take on a time loop. It's contained within GFA. Hawkeye relives July 4th, 1953, over and over again, trying desperately to prevent tragedy on the bus, while no one else remembers. I was actually influenced a lot by Slaughterhouse-5, even though it's not a time loop. Billy Pilgrim is unstuck in time and sometimes that means he's living his post war life and wakes up back in the bombing of Dresden. That's certainly what PTSD can feel like. So I started thinking about how I could use a time loop as a narrative device.

The time loop takes the emotional experience of reliving a traumatic event over and over again in your mind, of being trapped in that moment, and makes it a physical one. A common component of time loop stories is that the protagonist must prevent something terrible from happening, and only when the bad outcome is averted will the loop be broken. This, too, reflects an emotional experience, the constant "what could I have done differently? how could I have stopped this?" Maybe the real time loop was the trauma we had along the way.

In this case, Hawkeye is trying to save the lives of everyone on the bus. I don't want to say too much about the loop, because part of the story is going to be figuring that out as Hawkeye does. Just as the loop is about trauma, breaking the time loop is about moving forward. This fic gets very heavy and dark towards the middle, but it's not a pure angst fic, it's just what the story requires. In the end I would say it's about choosing hope.

The idea is basically what if GFA was a time loop, and we only saw one iteration of it? That means it's fairly canon-compliant. I'm also trying to incorporate a lot of details from GFA. I can't share a snippet, but I'm hoping to finish it by July 4th, 70 years after the day it's set, so if I manage it you'll see it soon!

****

I am more than happy to share more about untitled 69. I'm trying to motivate myself to work on it, at least once 4th of july is done. I had a ton of momentum on it a few months ago and then I got sick and it got left in this very chaotic, mid-draft-reorganization state. This fic was supposed to just open with Trapper at the reception for the new chief of thoracic surgery, where he meets Charles, but in true me fashion, I ended up getting into Trapper's homecoming and emotional state and in the process writing about a bunch of stuff that happened earlier. One thing I'm excited about is how Trapper relates (or doesn't) to his colleagues. He has one friend who's close enough to know about Hawkeye, because I needed someone to bounce Trapper off of in dialogue, and I really love the dynamic that developed between them. I don't think this snippet is as good as the last one, but:

Trapper tugged at his collar. He was having trouble breathing, though he knew that had more to do with the fog of cigarette smoke than the snugness of his tuxedo. If Louise were here, she would scold him—it had taken her ages to get his bowtie right—but she wasn’t here, so she could keep her comments to herself.  Louise hated these things almost as much as he did. Working class girls either grew up into women who loved glamor or hated it, and Louise had never seen any use for it. It was one of the things he loved best about her, and probably what drew him to the nurses in Korea, besides proximity—their short fingernails and practical attitudes. 

This is Trapper being miserable at the party (more on that later!) and me fleshing out both him and Louise a little bit.

[noxangelus]

I was seven, maybe eight years old when it happened. Mom and I lived in a shabby house in a rural area, surrounded by wheat fields and run down wooden fences and dirt roads. The summer days were hot, but the nights were biting and cold. It was quiet. It was lonely.

I’ve always had trouble sleeping, even as a child. At night, the wind howled in such a way that it sounded like someone was wailing outside. My windows would tremble, as if someone was trying to come in. My active imagination kept me up into the late hours of the night, eyes wide and plastered open, determined to stay vigilant. 

I never did have any intruders, aside from common field mice or spiders, neither of which particularly frightened me since they were so commonplace for where we lived. My mother always reassured me that I was safe as could be here–who would even want to break into our house? We had nothing of real value, and to begin with, the area was sparse. Our nearest neighbor was nearly a mile away from us.

At times, I wondered why we even stuck around here. It was unbearably lonely, and we lived what most would call the simple life. Looking back now, I miss it at times. But when I was younger, it was just so damn boring. The few times a year that I visited my father in the city were always exciting, though I didn’t like him much, or his girlfriend. They had never been unkind to me, in fact they were probably better parents than my mom was. But I resented them all the same for leaving me in the countryside. 

My mother hated the city. I didn’t know if it was because of him, or if she just disliked the bustling nature of metropolitan areas. When they were together, we lived in a tiny apartment that smelled like pancakes in the morning and cigarette smoke at night. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the relationship had begun to deteriorate, but I certainly noticed when they stopped arguing. It was always so quiet. I almost wished they would go back to it.

I’m getting distracted, though. None of this really has to do with what happened.

The night was another sleepless one. I was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks. Mom had suggested it once, probably just to shut me up. I had just about memorized that there were three large cracks, with maybe sixteen hairline ones branching off of them. Nevertheless, when I couldn’t sleep, I counted, trying to ignore the taptaptap of the window.

It was well into the night when I felt this overwhelming feeling that something was different, but I didn’t know what. It’s difficult to describe. I stopped counting the cracks and sat up. 

Something’s wrong, my mind screamed at me.

It felt like I wasn’t controlling my own movements. I got out of bed and walked over mechanically to the window. I stared out.

There was a figure in the field.

I felt sick. Her nightgown was billowing in the wind, the wheat and grass bending around her. I left the room, went downstairs, opened the door. It was freezing. I couldn’t imagine why she was standing out there in just her nightie. How long had she been out there?

My bare feet sank into the soft dirt as I walked out to the edge of the field, never breaking my line of sight. That entire time, she didn’t move a centimeter. I couldn’t hear anything over the wind, and I assumed she couldn’t either, but I opened my mouth and shouted at her anyway.

She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge my presence at all. It felt like hours that I stood there on the edge, yelling, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. I was afraid to walk into the field, afraid that the grass would swallow me up.

The moonlight was bright that night. Her skin seemed almost luminous, and her hair flew wildly around her head. For a second, I had a horrible thought that she looked like a monster, one of the creatures that I imagined tapping against my window at night.

Then, something dark bloomed across the small of her back. It was small at first, just a pinprick. Then it began to spread, soaking the nightgown. In that moment, all I could do was stare. 

Something’s wrong.

She collapsed forward, face down, and I couldn’t see her anymore. It was like my fear had come true. The field had swallowed her up.

For two days, my mother’s body rotted in the field, maggots and birds picking at her decaying flesh. I covered the windows in my room with sheets, and I cocooned myself in blankets despite the sticky, suffocating heat. I didn’t sleep for those two days. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined her standing in that field. Sometimes she would turn around and look at me, except she didn’t have any eyes.

Years later, I found out that some idiot kids had killed her. Shot her by accident with their father’s gun. They had been playing with it in the field, and when it happened, they scurried home. They kept their mouths shut like clams for forty eight hours before one of them caved and poured out the whole story between snot and tears to their parents. The police were promptly called, and I was found in the house, half-starved and sleep deprived.

I was shipped off to live with my father and his now fiance, away from the wheat fields and clear moonlight. They put me in therapy and constantly walked on eggshells around me. They treated me like a fragile china vase, which I suppose was appropriate, considering the circumstances.

As the years passed, I sometimes found myself forgetting the whole ordeal had happened. It was like I’d tricked my own mind into believing that my parents had never divorced, that my mom had died a peaceful death, and that’s what ended the marriage. I never lived in the countryside. My sleep problems were because I stayed up watching TV too late. 

Other times, though, it was all I could think about. It was like a stain I couldn’t wash out. A figure in the field.

[honestyjayy]

Life update

Hello Tumblr.

It's TJ here. I know I haven't posted much lately. I'm a little frustrated about my loneliness. I've been feeling like I've been missing something and that nobody cares about how I feel. I hope writing about it helps but gosh... I don't even really know any one of my followers like that. Heck... I don't think I really know anybody like that.

I've always liked Tumblr because it's been a place I could literally dump anything going on in my life. I don't even know if anyone cares enough to read about this but here goes nothing.

I've been very successful lately. I've got my sobriety on lock. I've quit smoking cigarettes. I've been keeping in touch with my family regularly. I've got a job. I'm getting a promotion. I own a business. I lack a girlfriend and the confidence to find a girlfriend. I live in a sober living home and share a room with 2 other old guys not even close to my age. I'm religious but I'd like magic in my life, not the sloppy fake kind but like ACTUAL magic. I know it sounds silly as heck, but seriously, there's been like this hole in my life that it just fits perfectly into.

I miss the crap out of my 3 children. It seems like there's nothing I can do about it though because through legal issues, there's this shitty barrier that I'm ready to break through by all means. Right now I should be asleep because I've got to get up hella early in the morning volunteering for something I'm literally losing interest in very fast because in this recovery crowd, it just feels like it's got people running around in circles for someone else to take the next best thing of yours while they give away their last. It entirely sickens me because although it feels like I'm bettering myself, it also feels like I'm being robbed of my time and relationships.

It's been about three months since my last relationship went to shit and anyone I've tried anything with just hears shit talked about me because it's the same, stupid crowd OR their not emotionally available. And I'm not about that whole closed off, hideaway until I die alone, kind of life.

I'm tired of reaching out to people and not being reached out to. By the way, I absolutely hate AI. Since AI has been out, nothing has seemed legitimate and I'm tired of fake ass people turning into some sour puss seeping from a sopping wet burrito.

Like, is there something wrong with me? Am I that fucking repulsing to be around? I get along with people at work just fine. My family seem like they love me. And I love myself unconditionally until the day somebody finally decides to love me.

Emotionally, I'm doing so great. Physically, I'm exhausted. I've made it easy for some girl to wiggle her way into my life by patching myself online and throwing myself into a crowd. Like damn, I'm only 28 years old. What kind of life am I living if I can't live a life with a female who's remotely interested in anything I care to do with her.

Trailing along, I don't want to carry my success much further because I feel like I have to find someone who's interested in me while I'm not successful otherwise the only thing that'd be lurking in the back of my mind would be something like, "is she with me only because I'm doing good in life or is she going to disappear as soon as things go to shit someday unexpectedly?"

Trudging forward, will someone just message me and make an effort at a friendship with me because I'm the kind who sticks around as long as the chemistry between us is fair. I'm too freaking young to feel this alone and I'm not ready to say fuck everyone and go my own way just to wind up happy being alone.

For real, I know I don't need anyone but God in my life. I care enough to post something about myself and hope someone gives 2 shits and a half about putting in their two cents out of the kindness of heart.

[iamearthangeluk]

it's been a while

i'll be turning 30 this year. i haven't been on tumblr since i was 15 and it is satiating the inner child in me. maybe i'll correct my grammar btu who fucking cares. it feels so good to be here again.

hello tumblr. you're going to like having me around again.

i've come back with 14 years of wisdom, of pain and beauty. i've needed this space to vent to you and God it feels good.

i don't care where anything goes, and unlike most of this fucked up world, i don't care if anyone reads it or cares about it. it's just me and you now. hello again.

i feel drunk it feels so good. hearing the tapping on the keys. the words spilling out of me as if no thought is ever needed. like i'm possessed by the spirit of art.

Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth." - Pablo Picasso

should i add a hashtag? no that's what the new plague of capitalism wants me to do. it wants me to suckle on the teet of recognition, of searching and yearning for others like me. there is no one like me and i will never find them. and i love it. i love being so disgustingly misunderstood and so rejected. so ignored. so hated and hurt. i'm so thankful for that pain. i'm so grateful for the art. i'm here again. i've missed you.

when i was 15 i couldn't give too shits if anyone saw what i wrote, if they even got a like. and here we are in this world of "look at me, look at me" it makes me sick.

i'm going to hide here for a while. just me and the words i won't speak just yet because how can i speak the same words i write? you can't do that. it's impossible. if i read this aloud it would take away the point of it all. it would become mundane and lifeless. much like the shit spilling out of social media. much like the brainwashing of others that make them create daily posts, add hashtags and strip ourselves bare of any reality of ourselves. who is even real anymore? am i?

i've delved into the darkness so many times and many have said it's not healthy. go get therapy. never will i ever. i will never shave away the pain because i like the way it feels. i like to stare it straight in the face like a friend i fucking love to hate. like a persons face you can't stop staring at because the feeling it gives you is so beautifully disturbing. because i know, deep down, i want to. it's a part of being human.

i can scream what i want from the rooftops in here.

[my space key is squeaking joyfully]

anything is art these days - the days of Pablo Picasso and Frida Kahlo are well and truly over but art does live on. it lives on in the people that will never be found. people that are stifled and lost. people like me. maybe i will be famous after i die. maybe my words will be found amongst the data that keeps on piling up. when will it all break down?

i write in notebooks, on paper, i paint on canvas. i sing to myself. i bake. i smoke cigarettes and walk around naked. my body is art. my sheer existence. my beingness.

no one will innerstand my inner desires that play with my inner demons. i am with God and He innerstands my need for pain, for darkness, for demons. He accepts me as i am because he knows the only harm i can cause is to myself but don't worry God, i'm here to play, to live. although many times in my life, i wanted nothing more than to cease to exist, for Him to take it all away, even the spirit that connects me to the ether. i wanted someone to care, to love me, to see my dead body and to regret everything they ever did to me. but now i couldn't give a shit. i wish there was a harder swear word to encapsulate my feeling towards not wanting attention. not wanting love or acceptance. i don't want to be seen. i want to be left alone with all my personalities to create and to laugh alone in the open space. to scream at the horizon. i am free in this moment. who knows how long it will last but i'm here.

welcome back to the living.

[indigo474]

3623- stood up for the 1st time

it didn't hurt nearly as bad as i thought it would. I was, obviously, more excited than i should have been. We had a lot in common or so it seemed. He had in his profile he was looking for something real-someone who could communicate.. such a joke. I wanted to meet because i did not want to do the endless testing thing.. good morning, how is your day ect ect- it creates a false sense of intimacy. I just wanted a short meeting to see if we both felt there was something worth exploring- i don't want to invest much time into something thats not there. You don't get to know me like that- no, no, no- thank you for showing me the real you Kyle- thank you. i guess i keep trying? I mean, i don't know. I know what I want- I'm fucking terrified - but willing - there has got to be someone out there looking for someone like me- maybe maybe maybe.

it is what it is....

my neighbor odd. i found myself being angry at him - like i hate him for his girlfriend- he's always nodded out in his car. he smoke blunts and cigarettes and one morning my apartment stunk- i think i feel the way i do because of what i went through with x.. i'm sure- ohh and my Mom too- she had her run with pills. it's such a hideous addiction- i guess any addiction is bad but pain pills-just horrible- i'm afraid this guy is going to die in his car- so i was feeling really cold and callous towards this guy- like i was hating on him.. out of nowhere- he is someone's son- stopped me in my tracks. he is someone's son.

Mads is still vegan- i am still a supervisor- i settled to 1st delivery dispute today. Mr. Bryan... i think he was military- after all was said and done i got him to keep the oil we pumped into his tank. he thanked me and said because of me he will stay with our company. I had a guy yell at me so bad friday night i broke out in hives- mother fucked me over and over again. He kept saying "i'm not a crackhead" and "i'm not stupid,i'm smart" I don't know-when someone tells me they aren't a crackhead- it makes me think maybe they are-i feel like only a crackhead would deny being one.. and smart people don't go around saying they are smart...i pretty much told him in so many polite words he was an asshole and thanks for not letting me help you..

life goes on... I do wonder if there is a God- 1 GOD? does GOD hear prayers- miracles happen- i know they do- I get to see KIKA tomorrow- truly the highlight of my week. she makes me want to get a dog just so it will love me and i can love it and we can hang together and go on adventures---- maybe someday- anything is possible- i am the creator -

[noonegetsleftbehind]

Chris supposed he should have been used to it by now. No matter how much he tried or how carefully he planned, everything seemed to have a way of falling apart. Nothing ever went according to plan in his life despite his best efforts. He'd spent three years working closely on this one. He'd gone over everything time and time again. He'd been gone for months in Romania. Still, as his luck would have it, shit had gone south real fast.

For once, he was starting to admit to himself that he needed help and the more he thought about it, the more he knew what he had to do, even if he hated the thought of it. Chris was going to call in the only person he trusted more than anyone or anything in this world to help him. Did that person happen to be his boyfriend? Sure, but there was nobody else in this world who had skills close enough to his own that he trusted more than Leon. He had figured that it gave him and his team the best damn upper hand that they could. But, of course, if something was going to go catastrophically wrong still, it was going to do that to him.

Smoking a cigarette alone at night, as he went over some fine details in plans and went through some files again. He'd just taken in a long drag when he heard something-someone- behind him. Chris's stomach instantly dropped and he froze in recognition. He knew. He knew what this meant. Guns would do nothing - no amount of combat skills or expertise would change this situation. Instead, he exhaled the smoke slowly through his nostrils, nodding his head before he put the cigarette out.

Chris turned, knowing exactly who he'd be facing. Miranda. He supposed this was always a possibility and better him than any of his team. Brown eyes narrowed on her, ready to at least put up a fight when she told him why she was here.

The deal was simple and laid out in front of him. Chris had a choice, but in his mind he didn't really have one. She'd found out what was going on, the plan to kill her and prevent her whole plot to use Rose Winters as a vessel for her Eva. He wasn't sure who or what sold them out, but he supposed that didn't really matter right now. She'd even known who he'd sent for and Chris's blood was boiling. His mind was already racing with what he needed to do to ensure the mission ended well - that the Winters' got out safe along with his team and that Leon didn't come here into a fucking trap. Chris would never forgive himself if something happened to him.

Miranda offered him the choice between being spared along with his team, but in turn she would destroy Leon on his arrival. Or he could give himself over to her, freely, to experiment on and she'd spare the lives of his team, Leon and maybe the Winters'. So he chose the only one that he could live with.

Before Chris agreed, surrendering, and left to follow her without a fight, he scrawled a quick note on his desk, his heart sinking and throat tightening.

"I had no choice. You'll understand. You would have done the same for me. My team will have the files and plans. Please. End this. Destroy her and the megamycete. Blow this entire place up, Leon. No matter what. I love you. I'm sorry." Once they were back at her lab, it wasn't long before Chris was strapped to a table and his screams of pain echoed out into the night. That was all he knew right now and all he could think about. Nothing but the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt. Just when he thought that he couldn't take anymore, that his body would simply give out on him and he'd succumb to death, there was more. It was never ending and relentless. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret his choice. It didn't matter if she killed him as long as he know everyone else would get out and that Leon would be unharmed.

He could feel every cut. Every prodding, poking and dissection of his body. Chris was aware of all of the blood leaving him. He was more than accustomed to the way it felt, but never this much. He could feel and hear the sickening crack of his ribs as they were torn open and he thought for a moment that this was it and he was dying and this would be the last pain he would feel.

Chris realized he wasn't quite dead when the ringing in his ears stopped and he was aware that he was screaming, but he couldn't even hear it. All he could hear was his own heartbeat as he stared above him into blinding light. He could see Miranda step aside to grab something, could see the disgusting cadou itself in her hands as he started to thrash against his restraints to no avail.

Nothing he did could stop it. Chris knew that, but it was his body's response to try and fight it. He could still hear his heartbeat, the sound of his own breath coming in shuddered gasps. He could feel the goddamn thing being placed inside his chest. There was a heavy, extra warmth inside him… And then… More pain as it connected to him and his body.

The last thing Chris Redfield remembered was the strange sensation of something that was not him moving within his opened chest that he could see before his body finally gave up and brown eyes closed shut on him for the last time.

Hours later in the same night……

Chris stirred, feeling something akin to the sensation of cold. He struggled to get his eyes to open, his mind and body in a blur. As he came to more and more, half thinking that what he'd been through was just a nightmare, he started to get a sinking feeling that it wasn't. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't sure that was necessarily a good thing.

He could still hear his own heartbeat, but not like he was used to. He remembered literally hearing it beating from the open cavity in his chest. The beats had started to slow when there was movement in his chest and heart. Now they were irregular and he was painfully aware of the sound and feel of each beat. Thump. Thump thump. Thump thump thump. Thump. Thump.

Clearly the pain of everything had been too much and he'd lost consciousness. The fact he could survive this kind of horror was completely beyond him. Brown eyes finally fought to completely open and take in his surroundings in the empty lab. He looked all around and realized he was no longer strapped down. She's left him here. She'd left him in here alone and just haphazardly bandaged up he finds as he surveys himself. Something was up and he didn't like it.

Fuck… Chris could see the door they'd come in through and caught sight of his coat. Ignoring the searing pain and the way his heart beat in a way that literally ached and felt so wrong, Chris pushed himself off that table. Wobbling and shaking, he moved to grab the coat. Pulling the garment on, he winced in pain as made his way shakily to the door. If he could just get out and get a message to his team, they could get out and maybe he could be in time to stop Leon from coming here at all.

It was taking everything Chris had left in him to force himself to walk. He had to get back to his place… He had to… Was he too late? Was Leon here already? The thought pushed him to keep moving despite his body trying to give out. In truth, he didn't even know how long he'd been in there and how long he'd been out. The thought terrified him, thinking of everything that could have gone wrong while he was bleeding out on a goddamn table underground.

As he pressed on through the pain, the irregular beat of his heart practically deafening him, his vision started to blur. Blinking, he tried to clear it, but it only became worse. He could taste something metallic in his mouth and recognized the taste. Doing what he did for as many years as he did, he was well accustomed to the taste of blood. Christ, he was dying now, wasn't he?

Chris's vision was so blurred all he could make out was a red haze before his knees finally buckled beneath him and he collapsed into the snow, face down. The last word out of his lips before he lost consciousness again was…. "Leon…"