#my health had tanked because of the stress

[ruffgem]

I hate school so fucking much lol and I always just thought I was taking too many credits but this semester I finally took a normal amount of credits and it doesn’t matter. It’s not the amount of classes, it’s just having any classes at all. I feel like there was definitely a time where I could handle it but not anymore lmfao… this place was crazy. Sent me into my first real and scary panic attack, broke me out in stress hives, ruined my sleep, turned me into a mega hater…. smh. I know it could be a million times worse so I feel bad for complaining but it was not cool. All I can hope for is that my degree and good grades that I damn near died trying to get for literally no reason do me some good in real society tho I doubt it lmao

[caulo]

my got dam primary hard drive died on me.

[helen-with-an-a]

Anxiety

Hi. So this was a request and I absolutely loved the idea. Some of it is based off of my personal experiences with anxiety but I'm aware that everyone if different - but please don't feel like you have to read it if you don't want to. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it

Viv Meidema x Reader (platonic)

Description: R has significant anxiety and Viv helps her out

TW: Anxiety; Mental Health

Word Count: 2.4k

You used to pride yourself in how well you could hide your anxiety. Back at your old club, no one noticed your knuckle popping or lip biting; no one saw your toes tapping in your boots or rapid blinking. The minor manifestations of your unease went unseen by previous coaches and old teammates. You used to take a weird level of satisfaction over it – you could hide your struggling so well that no one checked up on you.

And then you moved to Arsenal. It was a bigger club than you were used to; at just 18, you weren’t really used to playing at big stadiums or having sell-out crowds. You knew you were brought in primarily as a bench warmer – often only being utilised as a sub in that 75th minute to offer the Big Stars a small respite. You were comfortable in that role; you could do 15 minutes of a game. Yes, your heart beat so fast before you stepped onto the pitch that you thought you would drop dead from a heart attack any second. Yes, you felt so nauseous as your number flashed on the board that you often needed to take a second to centre yourself once you were in position. But you could manage 15 minutes of this feeling.

And then Beth got injured. That was tough—seeing someone you admired so much go down with the dreaded injury. But Arsenal regrouped and pushed forward, growing closer as they attempted to navigate this blow to the team. You had your friends helping, and even though they didn’t know the extent of your struggles, they did what they could for you.

And then Viv got injured. You were close with Viv; she said you reminded her of her younger self. You didn’t know whether to blush and deny or blush and be quietly proud. Seeing her go down made your nerves soar to unprecedented levels. Your toe taps became leg shakes, your lip biting led to bloody tissues being dapped at the raw skin, and your knuckle popping developed into picking and scratching at your fingers – often resulting in plasters being wrapped securely around them. But still, the team grew closer yet again, helping each other negotiate the struggles of losing some of their greatest players but also their closest friends. Yet you still didn’t go to anyone for help. How could you? Not when everyone was trying to find their new place in the team or their own injuries to contend with.

And then Leah got injured. It reminded everyone of their own fallibility. Leah – Arsenal Vice-Captain and Lioness Captain; destined to lead England to a World Cup win. It was a concern for the whole nation, not just your team. And yet Arsenal bonded even more, using this as a chance to develop an impossibly stronger bond. You still didn’t talk to anyone – not even the team psychologist that was brought in to help the higher stress levels. You didn’t think your worries were worth discussing – especially because you couldn’t pinpoint the cause yourself. You were just anxious … about everything. It was nothing new to you.

And then Laura got injured. The Tiny Tank was down, and it was terrifying. You were on the bench when it happened. That horrific orange stretcher lifting her off the pitch. You had squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hide the sights and sounds of the world from your memory. Your breathing became shallower, and your nails dug into your palm. You hadn’t even noticed the full-time whistle being blown until Steph jolted you from your panic.

And then you were being asked to start. If you thought you were nervous before, you needed to think again. Not only were you now a part of the Starting XI, but you were starting your first-ever game for Arsenal in front of a WSL record-beating crowd. You're nervous about starting the Wednesday before the match. Jonas came up to you during a water break to tell you he needed to speak to you after the session ended. That was it – that was all the information you were given. It made your heart jump and your head spin. You automatically assumed it was something terrible – had Arsenal realised they made a mistake and were letting you go? Had Jonas recognised that having you on the bench, even as an unused sub, was a liability that Arsenal couldn’t risk? Had the team spoken to him to discuss how much they disliked you and that you needed to leave the team? If possible, you were even quieter during the rest of training, silently communicating if someone asked you a question; not even Gio or Jen could bring you out of your shell, and they were always guaranteed a slight laugh from you.

Jonas had brought you into his office. It wasn’t too big, especially with the desk overflowing with papers and the armchair in the corner. He gestured for you to sit, and you did so—perching precariously on the edge of the chair, muscles tensed and ready to spring up as soon as needed.

“Y/N, look … we know you haven’t been used much this past year, and we hoped to do this a bit more gradually, but with all the injuries that have happened …” Jonas sighed. This was it; you were being let go. Your dreams of becoming a professional footballer were down the drain. “You’re going to start on Sunday.” What? No, no, that couldn’t be right! You couldn’t start. You just couldn’t. Talent aside, your body simply could not allow you to begin on Sunday. You felt violently ill during the warmups when you wouldn’t even be a used sub; you couldn’t imagine how you would feel if you were starting. You didn’t reply – what could you say? ‘Sorry, Jonas, I think that would be the biggest mistake in history’? ‘Jonas, I don’t think that’s a good idea – I feel like I have a heart attack before being used as a sub in the 80th minute. I think I will die if you make me start’? ‘Jonas, I understand you are my boss, but you are the biggest idiot alive if you think starting me is a good idea’? You couldn’t say what you were honestly thinking. You didn’t say anything at all – just sat there wide-eyed and terrified at the news. He dismissed you, and you bolted.

You staggered halfway down the corridor, leaning heavily on the wall before you stumbled, knees buckling and your body sliding to the floor. Your heart beat loudly in your eyes; the blood rushing made you feel sick, making you panic more. You couldn’t catch your breath. Everything was too much. You couldn’t do this. You were sitting in a small ball, knees pressed tightly to your chest, your eyes unfocused as you stared in front of you, and your mind spiralled out of control. To anyone passing by, you looked like you were waiting for someone to finish in the gym. There was nothing external to indicate an internal panic. It used to be something you were proud of – your ability to privately panic even in a busy changing room.

You hadn’t noticed that you had stopped opposite the door to the gym. You hadn’t noticed that it was the end of the physio session for the injured players. Leah and Laura didn’t notice you as they left, the door swinging shut behind them. Kim and Beth didn’t notice you as they walked by, either. It was something you used to hold so dear to you – the silent anxiety – and yet now, you wanted nothing more than to be loud and have someone come to help.

“Schatje? Hey, are you ok?” Viv’s voice barely registered. No! No, I am not ok. I am absolutely terrified. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t do anything. You didn’t even blink. She knew it was a dumb question to ask, and you were very much not okay. She had been watching you quietly since Beth’s injury – she watched as you bit your lip and popped your knuckles. She had tried to approach you, but you ran off as soon as she got near. You never looked her in the eyes anymore – not like you used to do that much before the string of injuries, either. But because she was no longer in most of the training sessions with you or the changing rooms, she didn’t see the extent of your struggles. “Oké schatje, lie down for me.” She didn’t really wait for a reply, gently guiding you to lie with your feet flat against the floor, knees bent and back straight, your head in her lap. “Arms by your sides,” she instructed again, guiding your limbs into the desired position. She didn’t know what to expect when she touched you, but she hadn’t considered that you would be numb, almost unresponsive. If it wasn’t for the slight flicker in your eyes when she spoke, she would have thought you were catatonic. “Goed gedaan, lieverd.” You had once told her that you liked hearing people talk in their native languages, even if you couldn’t understand them. She hoped this would bring a little bit of comfort to you when you so obviously needed it. “We need to get your breathing sorted, so I want you to push my hand away with every breath,” she said as she pressed her hand lightly on your diaphragm. She didn’t know if you could even hear her, but she figured if you hadn't calmed down after 10 minutes of this, she could go get help. Eventually, you started to weakly move her hand with each breath. It was small at first but getting more robust and more profound with every moment. “Ik zal je over mijn dag vertellen, ja?” she started rambling about her day in Dutch, letting her soft voice wash over you. You didn’t know what she was saying, but her gentleness calmed the storm in your mind. At first, her words were just a low rumble, but ultimately, you began to pick out words you recognised from her and Vic’s efforts to teach you Dutch, her hand adding a comforting weight to help ground you.

Viv could see the moment you re-entered the world around you. It wasn’t anything massive; you didn’t jump up, move, or do anything that indicated that anything had changed. But something in your eyes told her the clouds were parting, and the blue skies were peeking through in your mind. “Hi, schatje.” She smiled, gently pushing some hair off your face and scratching your scalp.

“Hi, Vivi,” your voice was scratchy, but you tried to make an effort.

“Don’t get up yet. We’re just going to sit here for a little bit, ok?” She phrased it like a question, but you knew it was a statement. You nodded gently and let your eyes slip shut. “What’s got you so nervous, lieverd?” she asked after a few minutes, her tone light as she tried to figure out how to help you.

“I … it’s silly,” you dismissed. She started matches all the time, and here you were, frightened by it.

“No, it’s not.” She said coolly, a finger smoothing the creases in between your eyebrows.

“I’m starting on Sunday,” you eventually whispered.

“Starting is really scary,” Viv admitted. She refused to dismiss your feelings. It had happened to her when she was a younger player, and she wouldn’t let it happen to you.

“No, it isn’t. You start all the time.” You refused to let her comfort you. “I’m just useless. Who the fuck gets nervous after being told they are starting? It’s only Wednesday,” you said, getting a little angry at yourself now. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Hey. No. Stop,” Viv said firmly. “I still get nervous when I get told I’m starting. I’m going to be an absolute mess the first time I get into the Starting XI after I come back … if I even make it to the Starting XI,” she added quietly.

“You get nervous?” You asked, slightly in awe of how Vivianne Meidema can get nervous over a football match – she’s one of the greatest players ever.

“Oh, yeh. I try to hide it, but Beth won’t let me anymore. She does what I did to you. She makes me push her hand away when I’m breathing. It really helps.” Who was this woman? She seems so put together on the pitch. Her flawless performances don’t reflect her nerves. “I will be an absolute mess if I ever make it to the Starting XI again.”

“What do you mean ‘if’? Vivi, you’re one of the best players ever. Of course, you’re going to be in the Starting XI again.” You might not recognise your own talents, but you’d be damned if you let anyone else think they were anything less than brilliant.

“I’m just behind on where I want to be in my rehab … it’s fucking with my head a little bit.”

“Progress isn’t linear, Vivi,” you stated as you reached to play with her fingers, which were still resting on your stomach.

“Do you think you could apply some of that pep talk to yourself? Schatje … I know it’s so, so scary to start, especially with what you’ve seen with all the injuries, but I promise you, you have us. Alsjeblieft, lean on us. We’re more than just your teammates; we’re your friends. Most of us consider you a little sister.” She gripped your hand tightly, cementing her promise to you. “Come on, let’s go get a sweet treat, yeh? I think we can also annoy Beth into buying it for us,” she laughed.

You knew you had a long way to go with your anxiety, but you knew you had friends … family … to rely on now. You weren’t alone in this, and it wasn’t unnatural for you to feel this way. It was comforting to know others felt like this. You weren’t alone.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 6

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary: The Feds search Melissa's restaurant and question her. Meanwhile, you consider your options...

WC: 4k

When the girls are waking you a few hours later for breakfast; you're not much better. The extra hours of sleep have made you not a zombie but you can feel that your tank is near empty- that one more thing might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. You only hope it isn’t something the girls do that makes you boil over. It takes almost everything you have to get them fed, dressed, and actually to school. What keeps you going is the thought of your wife with agents tearing apart her beloved business and the tiny little hugs your twins give you when you say goodbye that are as tight as their little arms can make. 

A few minutes drive takes you from the school to your wife’s restaurant. You still see Agent Shaw’s car in the parking lot as you pull in next to Sammy’s.

You see Melissa sat on the curb outside the entrance with a cigarette held between her forefingers as her elbow props on her knee. You should feel surprise. She stopped smoking when you started trying to get pregnant, both in solidarity with you and in an effort to improve her health for the kids you were hoping for. Now though, after the last few days, you're not surprised in the slightest. A stress cigarette has always been her one vice.

You exit the car, walking to the curb and sitting next to your wife. Wordlessly, she offers you the cigarette. You take it, taking a drag yourself before handing it back as you exhale the smoke. 

“It's a goddamn mess,” Melissa finally says. “And they're still lookin’. For what, I don't know.”

You lean into your wife’s side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders and your hand gently shifting through the red locks you can reach. “We’ll fix it,” You murmur. You hope you’re telling her the truth.

Melissa hums around the next drag from the cigarette. You will. She knows you both will set it right when they finally decide they're done. It doesn't make it better though. This shouldn't even be happening, but it is. 

You kiss her temple, inhaling the familiar scent of your wife’s perfume mixed with the cigarette smoke. It reminds you of when you first met. She had met you in a dark alley, and the first thing that you noticed about her was her striking green eyes- ones that knew exactly what they wanted. The second thing you noticed was the near intoxicating scent that you’ve only fallen further in love with as the years have gone by.

“I love you,” You whisper. You hate it, but it's the most you can offer her right now- the one thing you have that is unwavering and unchanging. 

“Ti amo, mi amore,” Melissa whispers back as she takes another drag of the cigarette. 

Her eyes flit up to yours, searching for any sort of comfort you can provide. Then they gaze over at the restaurant. She can see that everything is out of order. The chairs are strewn about at random, the booths have been moved and the agents have ripped up the painted walls in their haste to try to find something- anything. The front desk is a mess, menus everywhere and not in the designated holder. Decorations have been ripped off the wall and thrown carelessly, some ruined. And that’s only what she can see. Your wife doesn’t even want to know what they’ve done to the back- her beloved kitchen where everything has its right place. 

“My god,” Melissa puts her head in her hands, and you have to quickly remove the still burning cigarette from her clutch to prevent her from catching herself on fire. “My restaurant...” and then she’s mumbling expletives in Italian. When she’s run out of curse words to be said in Italian, she switches to Irish. Then she switches to English. 

“My love,” you sigh as you pull her impossibly closer- she’s nearly on your lap. “They aren’t going to find anything, because there is nothing to find.”

“I don’t even care about that,” Melissa whines into her hands. When she lifts her head, you see the tears in her eyes. “They trashed my restaurant, they’re going to take half of my shit, it’s not going to look the same, and I’m losing at least half a day’s worth of customers because of this! And then when people realize that we had to close for lunch because we were being searched, we’re only going to lose more business! I- I don’t even know what to do right now, Y/N.”

“We’ll put it all back together,” you promise her. “I’ll make some calls and have the family come down to help us put it back together, and we’ll get good business. We’ll make it all work, mo ghrá. I promise you, it will all be alright.”

“I just can’t believe this,” the redhead wipes at her tears harshly. She stuffs her hand into her jacket pocket, only to pull out another cigarette. She lights it and inhales deeply.

You pluck it from her hands. “Mel, smoking is not the solution right now. We can’t have you getting addicted again.”

“This is the one thing I can do,” your wife takes it back from you and takes another drag. “If you’re worried about the girls finding out, I’ll make sure I shower before I see them next.”

“What does that mean, love?”

“It means,” Melissa groans as she gestures in the general direction of where Danik and Shaw are now emerging from. “That if the way they’re walking over here is any indication, I’m about to be taken down to the station for a shit ton of questioning, and you’re going to be on mam duty today. Who knows what time I’ll be home.”

“They have no reason to take you in for questioning,” you try to tell her. “They found nothing.”

“They have every reason to take me in for questioning when we’re married,” she sighs as she stands.

“Melissa Schemmenti, we need you to come down to the station to help clear up a few things we found in your restaurant,” Danik states.

“Youse didn’t find nothin’,” Sammy rolls his eyes. “There is no need to question this poor, innocent family any further!”

Your wife sighs though as she stands from her place on the curb. “If youse want to interrogate me over nothin’, be my guest.”

“Honey,” you breathe out as you stand as well.

“Just get my restaurant back together before we have to open up for dinner, and please... tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t come pick them up today and that I love them,” Melissa tells you as she walks off with the officers. 

You watch Mel slip into the back of the car. You don’t move as you watch the car pull off down the street once it turns out of the parking lot. You come back to yourself as Sammy’s hand lands on your shoulder. 

“They got nothin’, kid.” He says, for what feels like the thousandth time.

You shake his hand from your shoulder, shooting him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be in your fancy ass car speeding to the station to protect my wife’s legal rights?” You say through your teeth, stepping past Sammy.

You don’t bother looking to see that he does get in his car and leave. You know he will. If not he’ll be having to answer to a lot worse than just you and your anger.

You step into the restaurant, sighing as you glance around. Melissa’s dream, torn to pieces without hesitation. Your hands curl into fists. You force them to uncurl and recurl, taking deep breaths in attempts to soothe yourself. You aren’t sure that it works- the only thing that would soothe you is if your wife was by your side and here to tell you that it’s all going to be okay despite her not knowing if that sentiment is true. This is what you didn’t want- Melissa and the things she loves upheaved, the things she dreamed and worked hard for. Sure, the salon and the front made it possible, but the success? That’s real. Melissa worked her ass off for this restaurant because she loved it and had a passion for it all. Now what was there to show for it? The place looked like it had been robbed blind and flipped.

You fish your phone from your pocket, dialing a number before placing it to your ear. You wish Mickey was out. You’d rather have called him. Instead, you’re cringing just a little when Mel’s cousin Vinny answers his phone. “Hey, you busy?” You ask instead of answering his question of how you’re doing.

You nod, silently willing him to hurry along as he chats around the simple yes or no question. “Can you grab Rocco and some of the other guys, bring ‘em down to Mel’s restaurant?”

This makes Vinny’s chatty nature stop suddenly. “Why? What’s goin’ on, Y/N?”

You sigh. Apparently news hadn’t reached this end of the family yet. The last thing you wanted to do was spread it further, make even more people jumpy over all this. You don’t have much choice though. “The Feds did a search warrant on the restaurant today. Mel’s at the station right now… I need some help putting it back together. They really did a number on it.”

You check your watch as Vinny agrees to gather who he can and be down as soon as possible to help. You still have a couple hours before the girls are out of school. Hopefully you can get things put together by then. You don’t want to have to ask your mother-in-law to pick them up again Though you know she’d hardly say no. Still, you’d like to minimize just how much she knows things are turning wrong if possible.

It breaks your heart more with each piece of the restaurant you pick up. Another little bit of your wife’s effort and care torn apart by the search. Still, you pick your way through what you can. By the time Vinny and some of the other men arrive you’re grateful there’s extra hands. It’s too much on your own, especially paired with your emotions. You’re half a second away from breaking something worse with the frustration you have building. 

You help Vinny and the others until you have to pick up the girls. On the drive to the school, you make up your mind. You take them to your own mother’s house, the both of them excited to see their Nan. They don’t see your side quite as often as Melissa’s, with them living on the edge of the city. Still, today, the extra drive is worth it. It helps that you get to see your own mother too, reveling in her warm hug and kiss that’s planted to your own cheek as you drop the girls with her. You promise you’ll be back to pick them up by seven before you kiss each pair of chubby cheeks and hug them tight before you set back on the road again.

You briefly stop back at the restaurant. Your worry is a slight assuaged when you return to find Valentina helping direct putting things back together. It looks like they should be finished in time to open back up for dinner. You thank her yourself and make a mental note to tell Melissa she doesn’t pay her enough.

When you’re back in the car once more, you dial Sammy. Repeatedly. You know he’s still in the interrogation room with Mel. You dial until he finally calls you back before you can call him again. By then, you’re almost to the station yourself.

“Christ, Y/N, what is it? I’m tryna help your wife here and you’re blowin’ up my phone so much she’s lookin’ at me like she’s gonna kill me herself, nevermind the damn Feds.”

“I’m pulling into the station now, I need you to meet me outside.” You say and hang up before Sammy can say anything else.

In a matter of moments, he’s stepping out of the door and throwing his hands up at you in exasperation. “What the hell is goin’ on, huh?” He spits as you step to meet him on the sidewalk.

“You’re the lawyer, I need legal advice.” You say with a shrug.

“Now? Right now? When I’m tryna help your wife get home tonight, huh?” Sammy crosses his arms firmly across his chest.

“I’m tryna speed that process up myself, Sammy.” You retort. “What are the chances they keep Mel outta this? From here on, her and the restaurant?”

Sammy looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Basically nothin’, Y/N. They might not have found shit but they’re convinced, and they’re gunning. She’s as tied in as you are. You know that, though. So what’s the real question?”

“How long would I get if I copped to the money launderin’?” you ask seriously.

“What?” Sammy’s arms fall slack to his sides. Now, he looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. Maybe you are.

“I don’t got time for the ‘what are ya crazy, why would ya wanna do that’ talk, Sammy,” you roll your eyes. “Turn on the lawyer's brain, yeah? How long would I be lookin’ at?”

“The least you’d be looking at is ten years. The most…’round twenty. Plus whatever they wanted to fine for it…could be as much as doublin’ what they can prove you laundered. With you comin’ forward, we could probably get a plea, bring it down, but not by much.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I did, though, it’d be over wouldn’t it? They’d be off everybody’s backs?”

“They’d still be lookin’ for who killed Bobby…but things- they’d be mostly back to normal. Mostly. You know your girl in there would tear me to shreds if I even considered lettin’ you do this, yeah?”

“They tore her restaurant apart, Sammy. They’re tearin’ our whole damn life apart, ‘cause of me,” you sigh.

“It ain’t just because of you,” he tells you. “Sure, you took the business from Bobby, but you an’ I both know you would never kill him. You’d never order a hit; you don’t got it in you. Hell, you couldn’t hurt a fly- I’ve seen the way you rescue those damned stink bugs when they get into your house.”

“I took the business from Bobby. I get why they think I had something to do with it and are confused with how the business is doin’ so well,” you sigh as you scratch the back of your head. “But I- At the end of the day, this falls back on me, and Melissa shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“Yeah, so your big brained solution is to lock yourself up, huh? Away from ya wife, ya kids. You really think that’s gonna make her feel better? That she ain’t gonna pay for it if you’re put away for years.”

“I think she’d understand…eventually,” you shrug. 

Sammy laughs, outright. “You sure you’re the one married to Melissa Schemmenti? ‘Cause the whole damn neighborhood knows what you just said ain’t true. You’d be sooner lookin’ at your own divorce papers.”

You shrug. “At least they’d be left alone.”

“You’re really willin’ to throw yourself into prison for all this? Think about everything you’re gonna be missin’ if you go to prison. Melissa will divorce you, you’ll miss your girls growing up- miss milestones that you won’t be able to get back.”

Your eyes go hazy for a few seconds as you see your life flash before your eyes- past, present, and future. You see your girls celebrating birthdays by themselves, or at the prison to visit you. You see them potentially graduating high school and Melissa potentially sending them off to college on her own if you get locked up for long enough. You see the way that the girls change once your presence is no longer there. You see things you don’t want to happen. You see them throwing their lives down the drain because you aren’t there to show them the love that they crave and need. They end up in the same shoes you’re in now. And you- you hesitate in your decision to throw yourself under the bus enough that you really are unsure of what is the right thing to do in this impossible scenario. 

“I don’t know what else to do, Sammy,” you whisper, and you hate the way your voice cracks and your eyes well with tears. You hate that all of this is wearing you down to the point that you don’t see a way out and you’re about ready to break. You hate that you can’t run in there and cling to your wife like your life depends on it, the way you want to. You hate every single thing about this situation. 

“The only thing that you can and should do right now is let me go in there and do my thing for Mel, because they really don’t have shit on her this time,” Sammy tells you sternly. “Go home, spend time with your girls, and I’ll handle everything with Melissa.”

“You fuckin’ better,” you warn. “My wife has nothing to do with this side of the business, and I ain’t lettin’ no one take away her dream. She’s worked too damn hard for this. And when you have her side of all of this squared away, you better get your ass ready to sue the fuckers for all of the damage they caused at the restaurant- place is fuckin’ torn to hell.”

You turn back to your car, climb in, and speed off. Sammy shakes his head- he hopes you don’t go over him and get yourself into more trouble before he walks back into the precinct to finish off this interrogation that Melissa is dealing with.

“My restaurant is not a front!” Melissa shouts for the seventh time. “I mean, really! There are so many other places that don’t bring in half of what I do, a quarter even! If Twelve Tables really was a front, do you think I would’ve put my whole fuckin’ life into it?!”

The agents just look at each other. They’ve found what really gets your wife to tick. Insult her restaurant, and she gets feisty. “That’s what you want us to think, isn’t it?”

“You just tore apart my wife’s salon, our home, searched our cars, and practically destroyed my God damned restaurant! You didn’t find fucking shit! Get off of our fuckin’ backs!” Melissa slams her fist- the one that still has bandages on it from the knife incident-  on the table. It’s a decision that she immediately regrets as her hand starts to throb. 

“If you don’t have any evidence on my client,” Sammy says quietly. “I think it’s time we head out. There’s nothing you have to legally hold her here.”

“Damn right,” Melissa huffs as she stands and straightens her shirt out. “Don’t fucking come back to my restaurant.” She grabs her purse and storms out of the station. The lawyer is hot on her heels.

“Melissa,” he shouts as he tries to catch up with her.

“What?! I need to get back to my wife and kids!” She dares him to stop her.

“I’m just trying to tell you that I’ll drive you home,” Sammy rolls his eyes as he falls into step with her. That gets a bit of your wife’s fire to die down, and she allows him to lead her to the shiny Mercedes in the parking lot

You call your mother, asking if she minds keeping the twins for the night. Of course, she doesn’t. It really is impossible to say no to those tiny faces. Especially if they’re clinging to her and singing a made up song about staying at Nan’s when she asks if they want to have a sleepover.

You miss them. Despite seeing them every day, it’s been awhile since you got quality time with your little family. Even before all this mess started, you were working extra and lucky if you got to read the twins a bedtime story or even just say goodnight. More often than not, you would have to settle for kissing their sleeping heads and whispering how you loved them, hoping their subconsciouses at least picked it up. 

Your wife, you’ve seen a bit more of. Usually, she’s awake when you do get home. She isn’t able to sleep well when you’re not. Not with the life you’re both in. You might be on the safer side of it but it doesn’t mean danger isn’t always around the corner. All it takes is one mistake and you could be targeted how Bobby was. You both know that. 

Even so, you still haven’t spent much time together. It all boiled down to recapping your days while both fighting sleep. If that. Maybe a night just the two of you is what you need in the midst of all this.

It won’t go away, you know that, but maybe a night with your wife will make it feel more like it’s possible to get through it all. Like fighting is worth it. As you walk back into your home; you don’t quite feel like it is. Not with the amount of pressure it’s putting on Melissa. You’ve seen it grow with each day, just as you’ve felt it grow on you. Except, the pressure you feel on you isn’t what bothers you. You’d gladly put up with it if it meant your wife and the rest of your family felt nothing at all. 

You mindlessly set about making dinner. It isn’t often you can convince your wife to let you make it instead of her. At best, you usually can convince her to let you help. You hope they won’t keep her at the station, going around in circles, for much longer. You hope it will be warm when she gets home and does not need to be reheated. The less for your wife to worry about, the better.

You’re just finishing cooking when the front door slams. If it were a normal day, you’d be concerned about who is coming in and slamming the door. Except it hasn’t been a normal day for a few days. You know it’s your wife- the knowledge confirmed by the Italian you can hear muttered as she pulls her shoes off at the door.

By the time Melissa makes it to the kitchen doorway, you meet her there with a glass of wine held out in offering. She softens when she sees you and the wine. She takes the glass from you with a quiet thank you. The rest of what anger your wife is holding out dissipates as she realizes you made dinner when you set her plate in front of her just as she all but falls into a chair at the table.

“Where are the girls?” Melissa asks you softly as she takes a bite of the Irish dish you made tonight.

“With my mom,” you tell her quietly. “I figured the two of us could use the night, just me and you, and then tomorrow is a full day dedicated to them.”

“I can manage that,” your wife tells you with a soft smile- really the first smile you’ve seen out of her all day. “I have to stop by the restaurant to make sure that everything is in order for the Saturday rushes, but-”

“Everything should be in order,” you promise her. “I had Vin and some of the guys come down and help me put Twelve Tables back together as much as we could. Val was instructing them... we really don’t pay her enough.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs out. “But with the financial trouble we’re potentially in, I don’t have the room to give her a raise right now.”

“When we’re out of this mess then,” you tell her as you set a hand over her own, your thumb brushing across her knuckles.

The two of you spend Friday night cleaning the house over glasses of wine, content to put everything from the past couple days out of your head even if just for a few hours. It’s warm, it’s soft... it’s the easy domestic life that you wish the two of you had all the time.

[bro-atz]

Hi, its my first time to request. Since its halloween can you write an incubus Yunho one shot fanfiction? I just want the fanfic has a plot before the smut scenes and its up to you what would that be. Thanks 😊

dream in a dream

in which: yunho needs to fuck in order to stay alive, but he fell in love with you in the process.

pair: incubus!yunho/afab!reader

word count: 8k

content: smut, angst... a lot of sex... like a lot a lot, death, raw sex (remember to wrap up irl!), consensual...? definitely not non-con, but... mostly consensual idk sexsomnia/somnophilia are hard to categorize

author's note: friend... my brain literally exploded HAHA i never thought the day would come when i would be requested to write an incubus ff... anyway i really ran with the idea apparently so i hope you like this ridiculously long incubus!yunho also i am so sorry for how it ends... seriously i'm truly sorry idk what i did happy halloween ig?

tag list: @k-hotchoisan apply for the permanent taglist here!

The thing with immortal beings that a lot of people don’t know is that they’re not actually immortal. They have to do certain things to stay alive. Humans have to eat food and drink water to stay alive, but not immortal beings. Each one is different. Vampires feed on blood (duh), banshees feed on revenge, wendigos need to consume human flesh, and an incubus needs to have sex. Vulgar? Yes, but it’s the truth.

It’s not just about sex for an incubus, though. They need the health, the energy, the life force from a human, and they have sex in order to obtain that.

Yunho was an incubus. He was kind of a lousy one at that. No, he was good at obtaining the energy he needed to keep going, but the problem for him was that he was picky. Some vampires only like a certain blood group, and Yunho only had an affinity for certain people. It was hard for Yunho to find someone he didn’t immediately despise. Think about it— he can’t have sex if he can’t get it up, and there were a select amount of people on the planet who could get him to that point.

That was when he met you.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life (and he had lived such a long life). There was just something about the way you would laugh and smile that made his heart flutter, and just watching you walking away from him made his body burn with lust. You were the one. He just knew that you were the one from the beginning, before he even slept with you.

You sighed deeply as you flopped onto your bed. You had a horrible day at work, and you wanted to relieve your stress one way or another, but you just couldn’t figure out what to do in order to relax. You dragged yourself into your bathroom and forced yourself to get ready to go to bed.

As you sat on your bed under the duvet in your tank top and shorts silk pajama set and watched TV, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. You couldn’t tell what it was, but after getting sucked into the drama in your show, that feeling vanished. Sleepily, you turned your TV off and slept.

Then, your eyes fluttered open. Something got onto your bed, and you knew because you felt the bed dip. You blinked a couple of times and saw a shadowy figure next to you. You wanted to scream, and you opened your mouth to do so, but the figure covered your mouth.

“Shh, baby,” the figure whispered in the most reassuring, low, manly voice. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“W-who are you? What’re you doing here? How did you get in here?” you rambled off all of the questions in your head.

“None of those things matter,” he responded with the same, low register. “What matters is this. Us.”

The figure brushed your hair out of your face lightly, and you found yourself comforted by his touch. There was something about the warmth in his hands that reassured you. His fingers ran down the side of your face, down your neck, and over your shoulder, slipping your tank top strap off the side. You trembled when you felt his lips press lightly against your shoulder and let out a tiny moan as their kisses trailed along the part of your chest that was exposed.

“Why…?” you breathed out.

He responded, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing to your ears when you felt his body weight press further into you. You lost yourself even more when he brushed hair away from your neck and left sweet kisses.

“Just enjoy it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“You know my name…?”

He nodded against your neck, continuing to kiss you. You gasped when you felt his hand go under your top and squeeze your breast tightly. You squirmed below him as you felt yourself get more and more turned on— you needed him to do something about it. Whimpers and moans left your lips the more he felt your body up, and those whimpers and moans stopped when his lips met yours. He kissed you sweetly. He originally kissed you only once, but you needed more. You reached for his face and brought him back, kissing him over and over again.

“God, you’re so perfect, Y/N,” he breathed out in between kisses.

When he moved away from you, you wanted to complain, but he didn’t give you the chance. He tugged your shorts down all the way and licked your cunt from bottom to top. You inhaled sharply as his tongue continued to violate you. His firm hands went under your knees and pushed upwards, allowing him to pleasure you even more.

“Oh God,” you hissed when he sucked on your clit.

You felt yourself nearing your climax. You brought your hands to the back of his head and ran your fingers through his hair before holding on tightly to his roots. The closer you got, the firmer your grasp became, and right before you came, you pushed his head closer to you.

“Fuck!” you cried.

Your pussy convulsed, and stars filled your vision as you reached ecstasy. You were breathing rashly when he sat up and wiped his lips with his thumb.

You could barely make out his features now that you got a better view of him, but you knew that the man was fine. His jawline was sharp, and his nose was long and slender. His hair shielded his eyes, but his lips were beautiful and plump. As much as you liked staring at his lips, you wanted them connected to yours again.

Before removing his own clothes, he helped you out of yours. You laid in bed and watched his muscles ripple as he moved, his slender frame swelling up as he inhaled and looked at you. You watched him palm himself, your heart racing as you saw exactly how well hung we was. Slowly, he pinned you down and positioned himself carefully.

You felt like he was going to split you wide open when he entered you. He was long and girthy, and you really weren’t ready for it. Tears slipped out of your eyes as you suppressed your cries. Yet, despite the pain, you didn’t want him to stop, so when he was fully inside you and didn’t move, you whimpered and whined.

“Good job, baby,” he whispered as he pet your hair. “I’m going to start moving now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, making him have to choke back a laugh. You reached for the back of his neck and brought his face down to yours as he pulled out slowly. You kissed him hungrily while he started to actually fuck you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and your tongue met his over and over again with every kiss.

At first, he was moving slowly at a steady pace, but suddenly, he thrust sharply into you, making you moan into his mouth. You continued to moan in between the kisses as he fucked you hard, his waist hitting yours with so much force that your entire body shifted forward. Worried that your head would hit the headboard, he put his hand on the top of your head, only to move his hand to the back of your head as he pulled you to sit upright.

His lips were still pressed against yours as he knelt on the bed, his cock still deep inside you. You sat on his lap and held onto him tightly as he raised and lowered you repeatedly. You let out little yelps every time he sat you down on his lap fully, his dick hitting places deep within you with such force.

“So good!” you moaned loudly as you flung your head back. “I’m gonna cum again!”

Without any sort of reaction, he lowered you down again and fucked you senseless, his hips making your ass cheeks sting. You kept crying out with every thrust, and when he slammed into you and stayed inside, filling you with his seed, you came as well. It was only when he pulled out that you squirted onto the bed, his cum leaking out of you.

You remained lying on the bed in a puddle of pleasure as he laid down gently beside you. His fingers tucked your splayed out hair behind your ear and caressed your face as your eyelids suddenly became heavy with sleep. 

Drifting back to sleep, you were barely conscious to hear his response when you asked, “What’s your name?”

“Yunho.”

When you woke up the next morning, you looked up and around wildly, remembering the incredible night you had— also fearing that a stranger really was in your home— but there was no one to be found. You were wearing your pajamas, which confused you because you definitely fell asleep after… That… Naked. Also, your hair and bedsheets were still neat and orderly, which definitely should not have been the case if you had sex that night. Was that all really a dream?

“Geez, get it together,” you whispered to yourself. “There’s no way you slept with a complete stranger last night.”

It had to be the exhaustion, you told yourself. You just needed a break.

“Yunho, you gotta find someone to fuck, otherwise you’re going to vanish. You know how it is,” a demon sighed.

Yunho was with his incubus friends chatting and people watching as they sat in public in their human forms.

“No, I know, Mingi. I found someone,” Yunho answered.

“Wow, the picky incubus finally chose someone?!” another demon exclaimed.

“Shut up, San. And, yes, I did.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Mingi asked.

“Just… Someone.”

Mingi and San looked at each other with concern as Yunho looked away, a light blush appearing on his face.

“Yunho… When did you meet this woman?” Mingi asked.

“About a month or two ago.”

“And how many times have you slept with this woman?” San continued the line of questioning.

“Uh, I think eight times.” Yunho lied. “Why?”

“You need to find someone else.”

“Why?”

“Dude, are you stupid, or did you forget that you can only fuck her so many times before she dies?”

Yunho pressed his lips together and looked away. Of course he knew that. He knew, but he couldn’t help it. He loved you. Demons weren’t supposed to fall in love, but there was just something about you that drew him toward you. He couldn’t keep away.

“You’re only at eight—”

“I lied. It’s ten.”

“Okay, fine. You’ve only fucked her ten times, right?” San clarified. “You have to find someone else.”

“It’s not so easy! You guys know how I am.”

“Yes, we do. At least find someone else before you hit twenty,” Mingi said with a sigh. “You don’t want to end up like Yeosang, do you?”

Yeosang was another incubus that was part of Yunho’s little group. He, too, fell in love with a human and fucked her until the fated number— forty-two. When she passed away, Yeosang couldn’t move on. Because he wasn’t having sex, he withered away, leaving both the human world and demon world.

“I know. I’ll find someone else…” Yunho conceded.

It was the weekend for you, and you had a long and stressful week thanks to work, which meant you were going to use the weekend to recover instead of spend it having fun with your friends.

Recovery to you meant sitting in bed, watching TV, and eating as much junk food as your body could handle. As you sat and mindlessly watched whatever it was playing on your television, your mind drifted to the dreams you’ve been having as of late.

It wasn’t every night, but it was starting to become more frequent. You kept dreaming of that man, Yunho, and he had sex with you in each dream. It felt so vivid and real, but every morning after the dream, you’d wake up to a clean bed and clean pajamas. You wished it was real, though. Yunho always fucked you right. He knew exactly how to treat you, which just made you feel even more delusional. How could a dream be better than sex in real life? The human mind truly is incredible.

Your mind kept going. You thought about Yunho and how he looked when he was sweaty and passionate hovering above you, the way he would brush two fingers along your temple to move your hair before leaving a light kiss on your forehead, his technique when he…

You started touching yourself. You thought about Yunho’s fingers, his tongue, his dick. You thought about how good he made you feel whenever you dreamt about him. You rubbed your middle finger over your clit while imaging it was his tongue, and with a soft moan, you slipped two of your fingers into your pussy— although it definitely wasn’t the same because Yunho was significantly bigger and longer.

You thought about the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear as he fucked you softly. The way he called you baby, the way he praised you… Fuck.

You were close to cumming when all of a sudden an ad on the TV scared the shit out of you. It was loud and for a horror film. You immediately turned off the TV and threw the remote onto your nightstand. Great. The mood was gone. Annoyed, you pulled the covers over you and went to sleep

Yunho, meanwhile, had been watching you— demons had the ability to become invisible, so he was able watch you while leaning against your door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching you was so hot, and if anything, it made him love you even more. He hated that you went to bed unsatisfied, so of course he had to act. He waited until you were fully asleep before turning into his human form and sitting on your bed.

You looked so peaceful lying there fast asleep. Yunho didn’t want to wake you up. But, you were legitimately dreaming about Yunho in that moment, calling his name in a whisper and clutching the air as if you were clutching him.

Yunho turned your head and bent down to kiss you, his lips gently taking your upper lip. It was a long and sweet kiss. Yunho thought that you would for sure wake up like Sleeping Beauty or some other princess, but you were still asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to wake up, though. His cock was itching, aching to pleasure you greatly.

Sloppy kisses echoed in the room as Yunho trailed his lips across your collarbones to your neck. You moaned quietly, shifted, and hugged Yunho with your eyes still closed— you ended up waking up when you felt his hair tickle your cheek. Your hand ran up from his shoulder to the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair.

“Yunho…?” you murmured.

“Yes, baby,” Yunho replied softly.

“Oh, good! You’re here,” you giggled softly while guiding his head towards yours. “I need you. My body needs you.”

“R-really?” Despite knowing that you were masturbating to him, he was still taken aback. He was in love with you, after all.

You nodded and shot him a small, loving smile before kissing his lips. Yunho was overjoyed. He was so overjoyed, in fact, that he could hold himself back. He was grabbing at your body and bringing you closer as if you would run away if he even let go of you for a split second. He rolled onto his back as you laid on his chest, your lips still locking with his, his tongue still playing with yours.

“I… I need you in me. Right now,” you broke the chain, breathing heavily as you spoke to him.

You tucked your thumb under your waistband and pulled your pajama pants along with panties down. Yunho was seriously over the moon. Eagerly, he helped you out of all of your clothes and stripped himself down at the speed of light so that he could swiftly enter you.

Yunho was overly eager. You had to hold onto his arms or shoulders to keep yourself upright as he thrust rapidly and harshly into your sopping wet cunt. Flinging your head back, you cried out in pure bliss when you felt his cock hit deep inside you, waves of pleasure spreading through your body rapidly.

There was no way you were ever going to be able to pleasure yourself properly, you thought to yourself as Yunho’s penis made you cum harder than you ever had before. There was no way you were going to be able to ever be satisfied, not when your dream was this fucking good.

When Yunho came, he came inside you. A thought about breeding you briefly flitted in his mind before he shut that down. He desperately wanted to be with you like that— he wanted to get married to you, have kids with you, and grow old with you. But, that was never going to happen. You were a human, he was a demon, and life was a bitch. He had to settle for being your “dream man” for now.

You were starting to feel weird. For a week straight, you had dreams about Yunho, and when you woke up, you were exhausted. There definitely was no way that the dream was real, which meant that you were dreaming so hard that your body wasn’t getting any rest, or something like that. You tried to rationalize it by yourself, but you realized that you just couldn’t figure it out alone.

You met up with one of your friends for coffee one day. Your friend expressed concern when she saw you literally chugging your coffee to get a new one.

“Okay, I haven’t been sleeping that great lately,” you started.

“Lay it on me, girl.”

“I’ve been having these… Dreams…”

“What kinds of dreams?”

You coughed. You were slightly embarrassed that you were going to admit to your friend that you were having wet dreams, but you had to tell her. “They’re, uh, sex dreams.”

“Oh?”

“And it’s so weird because it’s always the same guy… I’ve never seen the guy in real life before either, so I have no idea who I’m dreaming about.”

“Maybe you saw him in passing once, and now you just think about him.”

“Yeah… Maybe���”

You sighed and took a sip of your third coffee of the day— you had chugged yet another one right before you started explaining your reason for being exhausted to your friend.

“What goes on in these dreams?” she prompted you further.

“Well, he fucks me in every dream,” you said with a slight blush on your face.

“And how is it?”

“Honestly? …Fucking amazing.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, like, oh my God! If I had sex like that in real life with that guy, I’d grab on and never let go.”

“Maybe we should go look for him? Make your dream a reality?”

You let out a little laugh— there was no way Yunho was real, but sure, you could go hunting for him.

There was a brief moment of silence between you and your friend before you admitted in a hushed tone, “But… Sometimes… I wonder if the dreams are real…”

“What on Earth? What do you mean by that?” you friend asked, her eyes wide.

“Like, I’ll wake up with my back just sore as hell, or my neck kind of bruised—”

“Like a hickey?”

“No, just… Sore and barely bruised. It’s also, like, an entire area and not a small mark.”

“Girly, I think it’s your bed. Get some new pillows and a new mattress.”

“I should… But my mattress cannot be the reason why I’m exhausted.”

“Have you been sleeping?” your friend asked (dumbly).

“Well, obviously, because how the fuck else would I dream about this all the time?” you responded while rolling your eyes. “But… I think I’m just dreaming about it so much that it’s exhausting when I wake up because I wasn’t, like, fully asleep or something…”

“Like lucid dreaming?”

“Yeah! That. Like that. What should I do to stop the lucid dreaming?”

“I think you need to see a doctor. It sounds like it could be sleep apnea or something as well.”

You nodded and continued talking to your friend.

Meanwhile, Yunho and his demon buddies, in their demon forms, were watching you from a distance while eavesdropping on your conversation (incubi had impeccable hearing).

“Yunho, leave her alone. You need to stop with her,” San lectured his friend with a frown.

“It’s easier said than done—”

“No, dude! If you really love her, then don’t do this!” Mingi interrupted.

Yunho sighed and looked down. His friends were right. You were getting weaker by the day, and it was his fault. But, he loved you, and he loved making love to you, and at that point, he’d rather have you die because of him and not because of some other factor. More morbid thoughts filled his head as he pondered his relationship with you.

“How many times has it been, Yunho?” San asked with a heavy sigh.

“…I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?! Are you fucking nuts?!” San shrieked.

Mingi stared at Yunho. He knew that his friend was lying. He grabbed Yunho’s shoulder and said almost threateningly, “You know. You know how many times you’ve slept with her, so tell us the truth and stop fucking lying to us.”

“Eighteen times…”

San nearly lost his shit and berated the demon, but he held back. With a frustrated scream, San told Yunho to get his shit together before flying off.

“We just don’t want you to leave us, Yunho. Please leave that woman alone,” Mingi spoke to his friend softly.

Yunho bowed his head. He couldn’t promise a single damn thing, and Mingi knew that. Mingi patted Yunho’s shoulder and took off as well, leaving Yunho alone to stare longingly at you.

“Nngh, Yunho,” you whined as you felt the tip of his tongue roll around your clit.

Your dream was really catering to you this time. This time around, Yunho was so gentle— although, he usually is gentle with you— and really focused on you. He was eating you out, and you were trembling under his sensual touch.

Yunho pushed your thigh up so that your leg ended up resting on his shoulder as his tongue prodded into you. You quivered when you felt his tongue go deeper inside you and run up the walls of your cunt. When he slurped up your arousal fluid, you felt your face get hot. You were embarrassed for a split second until you felt his tongue flick your clit back and forth, causing that thought to leave your mind and focus on keeping it together.

Two of his fingers rushed into you, and he fingered you fast. There was so much friction happening between your walls thanks to his fingers that you felt like he was about to start a fire in your cunt. His tongue continued to go after your clit ruthlessly, and his fingers refused to let up as you felt yourself reach your climax. You grabbed onto Yunho’s hair and held him tightly as you let out the most sonorous, pleasureful cry while squirting several times, your ass and thighs shaking. You were still moaning and crying after you finished, the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his tongue and fingers not leaving you so fast.

Through bleary eyes, you watched a tiny smirk appear on Yunho’s face. He looked so pleased with work, his fingers rubbing up and down your folds as he felt up your wetness.

“Oh, God… Yunho,” you sighed as you flung your head back into your pillow, stars starting to fill your vision. “So… Fucking… Good…”

With that, you were out like a light. Yunho looked at you completely passed out, your hair splayed wildly, your bare chest moving up and down rhythmically, and your pussy still quivering, luring him.

He wished you were awake, but he didn’t have it in him to wake you up, nor did he have it in him to just up and walk away. You looked so fucking sexy to him— he finger-fucked you senseless, and it gave up a sort of pride to see that he was the one who did that to you. His boner was pressing hard against his pants. He needed to relieve it, and seeing as how your cunt was unsheathed and still soaking wet, he tentatively but ultimately used you to calm his throbbing dick down.

Already shirtless, Yunho just unbuckled and pulled his pants down. He moved your legs so that they were on either side of him, his cock resting on top of your stomach. He lifted your hips upwards, your ass barely on the bed at that point, before rubbing his length along your folds. You moaned slightly when he pushed the tip of his cock into you, but you were still asleep. Even when his cock entered you entirely, you had yet to wake up again. You were out cold.

Yunho felt so wrong fucking you, the woman he loves, while you were asleep, but when your pussy clenched around his dick, he gasped and shivered, all logic and reasoning leaving his head. He had to fuck you. He had to fuck you until your cunt was quivering and throbbing. He had to fuck you until he filled you up completely with his sperm, cumming more than several times inside you.

Without letting up, Yunho just kept thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into you sometimes softly, sometimes with immense force at different tempos and rhythms. His breathing was rough and ragged, and at times he wanted to stop, but your pussy was so addicting that he just couldn’t. Even after he filled you up to the point where cum was literally overflowing from your pussy, he wanted more. But, for the night, he had to stop. It was almost sunrise.

You were drained as fuck when you woke up the next morning. Your back was hurting, and your chest would hurt any time you inhaled too deeply. Something was wrong, but you didn’t know what it was. All you knew was that it was starting to scare you a little how adverse your body was starting to react.

San decided to check in on you one day. He debated changing into his human form, but the second he saw your physical state, he realized that he didn’t need to. He immediately departed for Yunho’s place to berate him.

“If you keep this up, Yunho, you’re going to die, too!”

San was walking, more like chasing, behind Yunho while lecturing him, Yunho walking away from his friend, trying to avoid the conversation. Technically speaking, he could just fly away, but San would follow even in the air, and he didn’t feel like using that energy to have the argument. 

“Since when do demons care about whether or not a human dies?!” Yunho shot right back.

“Because you love this specific human, and I know you! I know that if she dies, it’ll kill you! Do you really want to end up like Yeosang?!”

“Stop fucking bringing him up, San! Yeosang died because he chose to kill himself. I’m going to keep living after Y/N dies, so fucking leave me alone!”

“I seriously fucking doubt it, asshole,” San flew right in front of Yunho, getting the man to stop moving. “You’re such a sentimental bastard. There’s no way you would kill her without it haunting you forever. You would never be able to live with the fact that you killed the love of your undead life!”

“Just shut the fuck up, San! I know!” Yunho started crying. “I don’t want her to die, but I can’t… I can’t control myself! Every time I see her, I just want to make love to her all night long!”

“Then stay away from her! This world so big. You can fly to another country and make your rounds there! Forget about her. Let her go, and let her live.”

Yunho nodded slowly. San was right. He knew San was right.

“How many times have you slept with her, now?” San asked, afraid to hear the number.

“Thirty.”

“Shit… You need to get the fuck away from her. Right now. Go.”

San shooed Yunho away, Yunho taking off. San watched his friend fly away, praying to their demon overlord that Yunho would listen to him for once.

But of course, Yunho wasn’t going to listen. After all, his love for you superseded logic and reason.

You were losing it. You were so fucking drained, your dreams continuing to exhaust you. You kept thinking that it had to be real, that there was no way you body would be so worn down just by dreaming about sex. Yet, when you woke up in the morning, nothing seemed to be out of place. You looked exactly like you did before you went to bed the night before except with your hair a little bit messier and your clothes just a tiny bit wrinkled.

It was hot outside, and yet, you were shivering. After requesting the day off from work, you dragged yourself to the doctor’s office to see what the fuck was going on with your body.

“Well, Y/N. You’re fine… I don’t know what to tell you,” the doctor said while scratching their head— they were confused as well.

“There’s gotta be some sort of explanation!” you exclaimed. “You seriously didn’t hear anything wrong with my breathing? Because I have been having difficulty breathing, and I shouldn’t be shivering like this when it’s summer!”

“It’s baffling to me too, Y/N! I wish I could give you an answer for all this, but I seriously can’t find anything abnormal… Have you been sleeping well?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, that’s a start. Why haven’t you been sleeping well?”

“I keep having these… Dreams…”

“Nightmares?”

“No, it feels too good to be a nightmare…” you admitted before immediately clamping your mouth shut. You were already mortified that one of your friends knew about your sexual dreams, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself in front of your doctor. “The main thing is that these dreams are so hyperrealistic that they leave me feeling more exhausted when I wake up.”

“Alright…” your doctor scribbled on a pad. “I’m going to put in an order for this medication, so start with this, and if your sleep is still disturbed, then we’ll do a sleep study for you.”

You nodded and took the prescription from the doctor, and you thanked the doctor before you left the building. Immediately after leaving, you picked up the new prescription from the doctor and went home to test it out immediately.

The pills worked. About an hour after you took one dose, you passed out in bed. You were so knocked out that you didn’t even realize that Yunho sat on the bed and immediately started feeling you up. Although, despite the fact that you were fast asleep, that didn’t stop you from moaning when you felt his fingers run up your calf, along your thigh, and to your crotch.

“Y/N,” he whispered as he left soft kisses along your exposed arm. “Baby…”

He had laid beside you and was touching any and every part of you with a feather light touch. You smiled softly and turned towards him, but you were still completely asleep. Even when he brushed your hair behind your ear and ran his fingertips from your forehead to your chin, you remained asleep. Yunho trapped your lower lip in between his fingers before dragging you towards him, his lips overtaking yours. He was amazed when he realized that you were kissing back. You, fully asleep, were responding to his advances. It was exhilarating.

Yunho kissed you passionately for a solid several minutes before releasing you, a sigh escaping your lungs, and a pout settling on your face. You, unconsciously, did not want Yunho to stop. Yunho didn’t want to stop either, especially not while his crotch was getting tighter by the second. Sitting up to kneel, Yunho removed his pants, his cock springing out.

It wasn’t until that moment did Yunho feel like a real incubus. Usually, he would wake up whoever it was he was going to sleep with because he felt kind of uncomfortable making love to someone who was unresponsive (for the most part), but you could not be awoken. He spat on his hand and stroked his dick a couple times before moving so that his cock was positioned right by your lips. It was only when Yunho held your face with one hand and squeezed your cheeks did your mouth open properly, allowing him to slip his dick into your mouth.

Your tongue swirled around his cock the deeper it went into your mouth, and even half fucking asleep, you still gagged and stayed asleep. Yunho bit back moans as he felt you suck hard on him, and he had to control himself as he began to thrust gently into your mouth. You were moaning lightly with his dick still deep in your mouth, and the stimulation was too much for him to handle. Grabbing your head, he pushed you towards him and shoved deep into your throat, his cock twitching and throbbing as he came in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Yunho hissed as he realized what he had done after it was over.

He pulled out from your mouth and watched a trail of white connect your tongue to the tip of his penis. When you closed your mouth and swallowed, Yunho couldn’t take it. His cock stiffened almost immediately, and he desperately wanted to be inside you.

Usually, he would take your clothes off carefully, but Yunho couldn’t bear it any longer. He snatched your pants off and nearly tore your night shirt as he removed that as well. He left your panties on and just pushed them to the side quickly so he could be inside you as soon as possible. He groaned loudly as he felt how fucking tight you were despite him fucking you so many times. He loved your body so goddamn much.

As he rolled his hips into you repeatedly, he also massaged your breasts, earning sweet moans and sighs from you. It was a wonder how you hadn’t woken up yet. Even when he slammed his pelvis into you, you were still asleep. It turned Yunho on more than it should’ve.

“Y/N, baby, oh fuck,” Yunho bit out; he was so close to cumming.

Your moans had turned into whimpers and whines by that point because your body was also ready. Yunho came first, and he came inside you, only to feel your arousal fluid start to squirt out of you. As soon as he pulled out, you squirted and cried loudly, your entire body shaking as your orgasmed. Yunho for sure thought you would wake up by that point, but you were still fucking fast asleep. Those were some strong fucking pills.

The medication the doctor gave you was working— it knocked you out, and you hadn’t dreamt about Yunho since you started taking it, but you were still run down. You noticed that you were losing weight rapidly and that you could barely keep food down. You were dehydrated no matter how much water you drank, and the cherry on top to the whole goddamn thing was that you felt like you were dying, but your doctor said you were fine.

“Let’s get you on that sleep study, okay?” the doctor said. “Maybe we’ll get some answers from there. If not, we can go through more tests, but the sleep one first.”

You got set up for the sleep study and slept for the first time in a while without the medication the doctor provided, and you didn’t dream. Not once.

Yunho, in his demon form, sat in the room with you while you laid in the bed for the study. He watched the way your eyelashes would flutter, the way your lips would part slightly as you switched from breathing with your nose to your mouth, and the small, cute little freckles that he missed seeing when he was too busy fucking you. God, he loved you so much. So fucking much.

Mingi met up with Yunho the next morning, the two of them standing and watching the nurse take the electrodes off you.

“Yunho. She looks like shit.”

“Shut the fuck up, she’s beautiful—”

“She was beautiful.” Mingi interrupted. “You’re sucking the life out of her… What number have you hit now?”

Yunho couldn’t respond. The number was forty, but he didn’t want to say the number out loud because he hoped that he was wrong, that he hadn’t slept with you so many times.

“You know what you need to do if you want to keep her on this planet,” Mingi stated.

“I do.”

“Are you going to do it?”

A tear rolling down his cheek, Yunho turned to Mingi and shook his head. He couldn’t stay away. He loved you.

“You really are a demon, Yunho.”

You got the results back— they were normal. You were actually so fucking confused. How could you feel miserable but be completely disease free whenever you tested for anything? You scheduled a couple more check ups at the hospital, but you knew that deep down, there were going to be no results, that you were going to be labelled as fine. Still, you had to go through the check ups for the sake of going through them.

You stopped taking the medication by that point, wondering if the medication was actually making it worse. You hadn’t dreamt about sex with Yunho in so long, but to prepare, you studied up on lucid dreaming. If you dreamt about him that night, you were going to snap out of the dream. You were going to find natural ways to stop the dreams from keeping you up.

And so, you went to bed that night, fully expecting to wake up in your lucid dream.

It’s just a lucid dream, you told yourself when you stirred from your slumber. You knew the ways to wake up from a lucid dream, and you were going to put them to the test today, but when you saw Yunho, you couldn’t. Fuck, he was just a figment of your imagination— how did you fall for someone that wasn’t even real?

And yet, your heart ached when you saw him sitting on the edge of your bed. He looked so sad. Why was your lucid dream doing this to you?

“Yunho?” you whispered gently.

Yunho turned his head.

“Oh, Y/N. You’re awake?”

“I’m… Awake?”

You couldn’t process the words— Yunho fully embraced you tightly, his arms squeezing you to the point where you definitely could have broken a bone. He dug his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply, making you tingle all over.

“I miss you,” he whispered sadly.

You were rendered speechless when he dropped his head into the nook of your neck and left a soft, sensual kiss on your exposed skin. You felt yourself get swept away in his affection when he lifted you and laid you down on the bed so that he was pinning you down before immediately running his hands up your shirt.

Yunho was urgently trying to get you out of your clothes. He should’ve taken his time with you knowing that it was going to be the last time, but the fact that you were actually awake this time made him overly eager to be intimate with you. He got you out of your clothes in record time, his hands roaming your body immediately.

You moaned loudly and flung your head back as you felt his mouth meet your breast. While his mouth worked on your breast, his fingers moved down to stroke your— you didn’t realize that you were so completely wet— cunt, his finger brushing along your clit several times. You were whining and rocking your hips gently as his fingers teased you and his teeth tugged on your nipple.

“You like that, baby?” Yunho, after leaving your nipple with a slightly painful suck, asked you softly.

You nodded, words still evading you. Your brain was starting to go numb with pleasure, and truth be told, you felt as if you were nearing your climax in record time. Yunho, however, noticed your eyes start to roll back as you suppressing your incoming orgasm, so he stopped. He wanted, nay, needed to be inside you and feel your walls tighten around his throbbing penis.

Yunho leaned away from you to remove his own clothes, making you miss the warmth of his physical contact. Your arms reached out for him silently, and that’s when you noticed that Yunho’s face was twisted into a painful frown.

“Yunho?” you whispered, a word finally leaving your lips. “What’s wrong?”

Immediately shaking his head, the frown left, and Yunho smiled at you, but you could tell that his smile was fake. You knew him well by that point, and that smile was definitely not how he usually smiled at you.

But, you didn’t get time to press further. Yunho was completely naked and about to make love to you. He pinned you on the bed once more and rubbed his cock against your clit a couple times.

There was a little nagging voice in the back of Yunho’s mind, and that voice was a mix between San and Mingi telling him not to fuck you. And he seriously didn’t want to because he wanted you to stay alive for him, but the thought of not being able to sleep with you ever again also drove him insane.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Yunho whispered.

You didn’t know what Yunho was apologizing for— you thought it was because he thrust into you so hard without warning, but it was really because he was sorry for what was going to happen to you after. His cock went deep inside you and nearly hit your cervix, but Yunho controlled himself because he didn’t want you to cum so fast. He wanted to fuck you for as long as humanly possible. He wondered if he could just keep his penis inside you until the end of time, that way you could stay alive, but he was itching to move.

Your back arched with every stroke of pleasure, and you felt yourself get lightheaded as euphoria approached. The way Yunho was rolling his hips into you made you feel so fucking good, so fucking sexy, and you wanted more and more. You held onto his shoulders and pulled him towards you, connecting your lips with his, and you kept your hold on him as you desperately made out with him.

You missed Yunho too. Although it was just your brain, you missed having such satisfying sex with him. He made you feel incredibly good when he ran his hands along your waist and over your hips, and his long cock filled you so well that you felt like your cunt was truly made for him.

“Oh my God, Yunho!” you stopped kissing him and cried out when you felt his waist start slamming into yours. “Faster!”

Yunho shivered. Hearing you order him around nearly made him cum. Nonetheless, he listened to you. He thrust into you as fast as he could, making you feel like his penis was going to pull your insides out with his speed, girth, and power. You felt your head press further back into the pillow below your head, your hold on Yunho getting tighter to the point where you were definitely leaving nail marks in his skin.

“Fu-uck,” Yunho bit out. “I’m cumming.”

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, especially not after seeing you all sexy and disheveled under you. Shutting his eyes tightly and letting a singular tear roll down his cheek, Yunho released his load in you, his white and sticky cum filling you up.

The feeling of Yunho’s cum spurting into you was the final thing you needed to bring you to climax. As soon as he pulled out, you came loudly, your cry echoing loudly in the room.

What Yunho feared happened almost immediately. Your hold on him weakened, your arms slipping to your sides. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and brought you up, desperately praying that if he did anything, you wouldn’t pass. He kissed your lips, ran his hands through your hair, placed his hand over your heart, but nothing. Just as it was for centuries, forty-two was the unfortunate number, and the two of you had reached it.

You felt your conscious slipping from you, and as your eyelids grew heavy, you noticed that Yunho’s form had suddenly changed. He went from being the tall man with the fair skin and soft brown hair to this red skinned, horned devil with scales covering his body and wings sprouting from his back. He looked like himself, but it was a horrible terrifying version of himself with solid, black eyes, fangs, and long ears that stuck straight out of the side of his head. In other words, Yunho was a demon, and you knew that he was right in your last moments— you immediately knew that sex with Yunho was not a dream, and that you were most definitely awake every time you consciously fucked him.

His demon form terrified you to the point where you were able to let out a scream and try your best to get away from him, but you passed out before you could even push you away, and soon, everything faded to black for you. Completely. Forever.

Yunho, seeing that he had actually transformed into his demon self right before you fully died, was mortified. How could your very last memory of him be his true self and not the man of your dreams? He felt like in the most literal sense that he scared you to death.

Yunho finally understood how Yeosang felt. He stayed in his invisible demon form and kept an eye on your decaying body until someone discovered you. He followed you all the way to the hospital and accompanied your family as they set up a proper funeral for you.

During the entire funeral, Yunho wept. He had so, so many regrets. He regretted having sex with you so many times, he regretted not stopping before he hit forty-two, and he regretted not telling you that he loved you. He did not, however, regret falling in love with you. If he could, he’d do it all over again.

Yunho seriously could not move on after you. He found some people to help him elongate his life, but he couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing that he killed the love of his life. San and Mingi did their best to help Yunho keep it together, but the same way Yeosang had vanished, Yunho did too. There was no point in staying around if he couldn’t be with you.

[dreambunnynotes]

daily note: january 27th ❤︎

hello angels, long time no see! it's so nice to be back; i took a little break from tumblr for my mental health and i now feel reinvigorated, rested, and ready to document my daily progress. let's get into my first reflection of the year!

accomplishments:

worked for 2 hours on bookbinding; i completed a hand-bound notebook i had started yesterday and them got to work on a trickier hand-bound journal afterwards!

figured out how many books i would like to make in time for an upcoming market i am doing with my sister, and planned out my daily quota in order to reach my goal by the date

answered a few asks on my law of assumption tumblr; this is something that stressed me out for awhile because i have around 70 asks that i need to answer, but i figured out i could answer three asks a day and empty my inbox within 3 weeks, which seems like a really reasonable goal! speaking of determining my goals, i...

figured out a goal-setting system that actually works for me! it gives me self-imposed deadlines that are actually effective, and it cuts the goals up into short enough time frames that it makes them seem doable and exciting. i actually figured out this system a few days ago, but today i was able to implement it and it felt really nice! i'll try to make a post about it sometime soon if others are interested.

visited with my nephew and other family members

cleaned out my pets tank and did a complete overhaul of the soil that was overdue

listened to a bunch of edward art videos while i did bookbinding!

returned to this lovely tumblr to make a daily reflection at long last!

final thoughts:

that's all for now sweet peas! have a great day, take good care of yourself, and i'll see you tomorrow for my updated 2024 goals list and what i have accomplished so far since my last update! mwah ❤︎

[radiowallet]

Home

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

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For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled. 

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter. 

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart. 

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms. 

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye. 

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek. 

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice. 

Be spontaneous. 

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could. 

Except Deiter Bravo. 

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart. 

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac? 

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart. 

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide. 

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.” 

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall. 

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside. 

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice. 

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks. 

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine. 

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.” 

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense. 

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.” 

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away. 

“You want to go.”  

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch. 

“I want to go with you.” 

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene. 

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow. 

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls. 

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs. 

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party. 

No. 

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress. 

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations. 

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town. 

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster. 

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him. 

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was. 

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention. 

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear. 

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.” 

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him. 

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him. 

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch? 

And why did Marcus care? 

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man. 

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight? 

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on. 

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it. 

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes. 

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality. 

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat. 

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again. 

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him. 

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit. 

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound. 

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.” 

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other. 

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious. 

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up. 

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg. 

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?” 

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror. 

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move. 

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man. 

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had. 

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.” 

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.” 

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same. 

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.” 

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”  

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream. 

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw. 

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley. 

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.” 

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light. 

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep. 

Home. 

[leafyaa]

Prologue

"What do you mean we're breaking up huh? Was I not good enough for you?!" You yelled as tears streamed down your face.

Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend of 3 years decided to break up with you. And did he have a valid reason? No, of course he didn't.

"Just shut the fuck up Y/n. Don't make this any more harder than it is. You're being so loud. I already told you we just don't get along together so that's final." Kunikuzushi's cold gaze watched over you as he walked past.

You clenched your fists in anger, wanting to follow him and punch him in the face for just suddenly leaving you. But you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

After all, hurting the one you loved the most was something you would never do. Even if the love was broken.

Kunikuzushi already left your apartment so you sat on the ground in silence. Feeling too hurt to even move around.

"Don't worry baby... It's- it's gonna be alright..! I'll be here for you and never leave you.." You cried out as you caressed your stomach.

Today was supposed to be a happy and eventful day. It was the day you were supposed to tell Kunikuzushi that you were pregnant. But instead it was the opposite of happy..

What happened to the words ‘I will take responsibility if anything happends.’ ?

"I'll never let anyone hurt you baby.." You promised to your unborn child of 3 months.

That's what you pledged 6 years ago.. But it seemed like fate decided it would be different.

"Hikari? Hikari! HIKARI!" You fell on your knees as you had been running for hours now. In search of your 5 year old child.

Multiple passersby looked like you were crazy as you ran down the road frantically but you didn't care. Hikari somehow left your side for a few seconds and now she is gone. But how? You taught her the dangers of strangers so why would she walk away?

You return back to the playground where you've seen her last and break down on a bench. The sun was going down and no kids were at the playground anymore.

You were all alone crying and having a panic attack. You were trembling and feeling dizzy as well as irregularly breathing.

You wanted to stand up and call the police to report Hikari missing but you stumbled forward and fell on the cold pavement.

Luckily someone was nearby to watch it happen and quickly sprinted towards you to help you up.

You couldn't see who it was that helped you because of your blurry vision but could make out that it was a male, judging by their voice.

"Miss? Can you hear me miss? Please-" The voice abruptly stops.

Or was it you that passed out?

A few hours later you wake up in a hospital with a stranger sitting next to you in a chair. He seemed to be asleep.

He had burgundy hair, tied into a low ponytail and wore a white tank top and some jogging pants.

For a minute you admire his beauty but you quickly change expressions as you realize what happened hours ago.

You frantically get out of bed and search around the room for a phone. Apparently, making so much noise that the male woke up from his slumber.

"Woah miss, calm down-"

"Don't tell me what to do!" You yell as you swat his hand away in a panic.

"Please wait- don't stress yourself, it isn't good for your health right now!" He quickly restrained you from moving around any further.

"Don't touch me!"

"What's going on?" A new face enters the room and looks at the male in annoyance.

"She's in a panic, so I tried to restrain her in order to calm her down, Sara."

"Let her go Heizou." 'Heizou' reluctantly let go of you and you glared at him. Still frantically looking around for your phone- or any phone.

"Miss, please tell us what is wrong. We can help you.." 'Sara' said as she looked at you gently.

Her eyes looked genuine as well as the words coming out of her mouth, causing you to break down.

"My- my child.. She.. She's gone.. Someone- someone took her..!" You started to sob and both Heizou and Sara looked at you in surprise and shock.

"Oh shit.." Heizou muttered out and Sara glared at him, mouthing him the words 'not the right fucking time'.

"Please give us the description of the child, last seen place and time and we'll help you out." Sara said with a serious, but gentle voice as she walked closer to you and held your hand.

After calming down you tell the two what happened and Sara scribbled down everything.

Sara left shortly after you finished telling your story while Heizou stayed with you. You found out the two were coworkers, but more importantly, from the Tenryou police department.

You were still somewhat emotional as you lay on the bed, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, not uttering a single word.

"I'm sorry what happened to you, miss.." Heizou suddenly says.

You still looked at the ceiling with a sad expression but heard what he said.

"I know it's hard for you right now.. But please don't blame yourself. I can see you're a good mother.."

Your head slightly shifts to his side and a tear falls down your cheek.

Heizou notices it and quickly wipes the tear away with his hand.

"Don't cry, miss. We will do everything in our power to find your daughter back. I swear.."

"Thank you.." You mutter words for the first time in a while.

Heizou sadly smiles at you and holds your hand to comfort you.

"I swear we'll do our best."

⇠ previous ⭒ masterlist ⭒next ⇢

Summary:

You've dated Scaramouche in your high school and college years but just as you wanted to announce your pregnancy to him he broke up with you without any reason. He left you to be a single mom for 7 years. But now that your daughter has been missing and abducted for a year and you've not been doing well and out of a sudden he showed up into your life again trying to apologize for his past mistakes..?

Taglist:

@swivy123 @kichiyoshi @wwwrizchan @k1t0 @killumeo @pinkdreamerbailifflawyer-blog @samarill @xiaotopia @aqualesha @eattingshits @omoriaddict

[possqueen]

help an unemployed trans woman get by!

hey so as i've been saying a lot i had to leave my job because my mental health was absolutely tanking from the sheer amount of stress and sensory overload there, and i was never able to get anything else lined up as i've been looking for a new job for so long and never even got so much as an interview that even trying to find something else would cause depressive episodes. so i'm trying to do art full time!

i have commissions open at the moment as well as a patreon where i post exclusive early access art, WIPs, music, and game dev insight/updates with tiers as low as $1. I also have a small Redbubble shop.

Commission info/prices

Patreon

Redbubble

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia! You said that you need another vacation after this vacation, so I am not sure, how puppy situation, even if it partual custudy, affecting you ( may be you in panic when he is there and then recovering when he is not, and then round and round? ), but really, If you need another vacation, I hope you know we will be here to support you for it!

It's been nearly 4 weeks now since we got Toby so I feel like I can talk about this with a bit of a clear head.

(Talk of like an actual PTSD meltdown beneath the read-more, including self-harm mention - nothing graphic. There's zero obligation for anyone to read this, especially for folks who don't think authors should ever be honest about being people with issues):

So, I've been kind of quiet about aspects of this, but I have like severe treatment-resistant PTSD and C-PTSD, and puppies specifically are one of my triggers (especially if I'm responsible for them). The reason for that is kind of awful, and I don't really want to talk about some of the things I've experienced/been through that led to that, so let's just move onto the next part. You're kind of right anon, there has been panic while he is here lol.

As a result, I had a severe meltdown the first time I tried to adopt a dog many years ago now. Could not last 24 hours, needed weeks/months to recover.

But I've always wanted to share my life with a dog and I've been in a somewhat better space over the past year or so, and I thought I could maybe handle it better. I told myself 'if I can just get through that 24 hours I'll realise it's okay and it will all work out.' Anon I cannot tell you where this thinking came from, but it was wrong. Idk why past me was kind of naive enough to think this way but here we are.

No, after that 24 hours, it got temporarily better, and then I slammed into consecutive meltdowns, each one worse than the next, until the people around me were afraid for my life. I am still recovering from some of the harm I inflicted on myself during the last three weeks and likely will be for some time to come. The combination of a really intense PTSD relapse, as well as not being able to handle (as an AuDHD person) intense changes to my schedule basically compounded and I broke.

I made the decision to rehome Toby, and first contacted the people around me. Glen's mum said she wanted a dog, and had been specifically looking into dogs like Toby anyway, and so we decided this would be best because then I could still be involved (I love Toby to pieces).

After getting some space, I finally started to adjust, and have gone back to having Toby about 4~ days a week, with a view to going to about 6 days, with one day spent with my mum, or Glen's mum.

Today is the first day I was able to handle having him on my own for around 9.5 hours. And I'm here and able to write about it, so that's progress. He'll be here all day Sunday, and then Tues-Weds-Thurs-Friday. And from there a decision will be made as to where I'm at with my mental health etc.

I'm a bit more hopeful now that I might be able to keep him, but my PTSD is still very very bad. I'm having some nights where I'm simply not sleeping until 7.30am (even if he's not here), and my hypervigilance is crazy. Like, I am having so many auditory flashbacks it's stupid. So this is why I've been saying this break hasn't been very restful or productive. Because my mental health tanked like I detonated a landmine inside myself.

I didn't actually plan the two week break for Toby! That was just a coincidence honestly.

Unfortunately I have a lot of health conditions that respond very poorly to stress, so I'm dealing with those now too. And then additionally, in all of this, I had a breast scan / mammogram / ultrasound that has confirmed a suspicious lump I found a couple of months ago (breast cancer runs in the family), and I suspect I'm going to need a biopsy. I'll find out on Monday if that's the case. That's been in the background and hasn't been helping.

There's some other stuff going on that's not really worth talking about because these are the main things, but that's a good picture I think. It turns out 'just getting through the first 24 hours' doesn't magically make a severe PTSD trigger go away. And that forced exposure is not 'exposure therapy' - that's just reinforcing a trigger.

Anyway! I feel like I'm through the worst of it, and I am seeing glimpses of how my life could be richer if I keep getting through this. But...that's why I think another break. *smiles tiredly.* I have to wait a bit now for the PTSD / C-PTSD symptoms to settle down, and I also need to see what's kind of worsened after this. Realistically, with a relapse to this degree, it could take between 3-6 months to really start recovering, or to at least get back to where I was before December.

I hope with all my heart I can get there with Toby by my side. I love him so much.

(I want to add that Toby has never ever been in a position of harm at any point, and in fact I probably put myself in harm's way for his sake, because I wanted to provide solid continuity of care - in case anyone was worried about that).

Er so yeah! But I've picked up my writing again this week and have been able to do some like...things I'd been neglecting, and I feel more human again, I just hope I get some sleep tonight

[bumblebeerror]

It’s been on my mind today but I need you to know.

Hitting 25 has been one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I don’t say this lightly - I lost my father who I loved dearly at age 18, I grew up a bit above the poverty line and now only *just* live above it. I’ve been treated for severe mental illness and learning disabilities since I was a child, starting at 6 years old. I have a physical disability and chronic pain. I have had some bad fuckin times, I’ve been through my share, and I’ll go through more I’m sure.

But I can tell you I feel so much better mentally at age 25, unable to stand for more than an hour or so without severe pain, on a consistent schedule of prescribed pain pills, discovering just how hard I was masking some pretty serious autism, struggling with my ADHD meds being less effective, and only leaving the house three total times a week because I’m immunocompromised than I was at age 13 when “all my problems were school”.

Because at age 10, nobody close to me had ever died before. At age 11, I had never lived in a new place before. At age 12, I had never felt so cold and empty and tired. I’d never endured my peers teasing me for crying about a death in my family. At age 13 I had never felt like I wanted to die before then, like the world was on fire, like it was ending. At age 14 I hadn’t known what it felt like to have period cramps so bad my mother sent me to school with a muscle relaxer and still had to pick me up by lunch, to have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that being a girl was a lie and I was a liar. At age 15 I’d never had people remind me so viciously that I wasn’t like them, I’d never felt so throughly upset by the idea of one more person calling me she. At age 16 I’d never had my heart broken before, I’d never dealt with a friend turning on me completely. At age 17, I’d never had my family feel so broken. At age 18, I’d been petrified of the idea of my father dying, and he did. At age 19, I’d never actually thought about how I would kill myself before. At 20, I’d never gotten drunk before. At 21, I’d never gone inside a bar.

You get the picture.

Your teen years suck because you’ve never done so much shit, and on top of the terrifying experience of doing it all for the first time, you also have all your peers picking at you for doing it wrong the first time. Your teen years suck because they are chaotic and new and stressful and you don’t know how to handle them yet. You’re not supposed to know yet.

Hitting 25 was the realization that I wasn’t going to just up and die, that now I have to actually plan. I have to do taxes, and that I actually know how to. That I have to care for my pets and I know how to. That I have to drive to work and do my job and I know how to.

25 was what made me realize that I had things I was supposed to be around for. People and pets who relied on me, who loved me and needed me and wanted me.

That I can have a panic attack and know that I’m having one. That something can piss me off and I know I can take a moment before I respond. The awareness that I do not have to do everything for the first time all the time anymore, that I know stuff, that I’ve been around the block and can use those tools is INVALUABLE. The fact that I can look at my intrusive thoughts and, if I truly wanted to, CHOOSE to indulge them? That I can sit here and be the cat that doesn’t wish to go to the vet and the concerned cat owner?

It changes everything.

It was the realization that I am the one punishing myself. That I can and should respect myself as a person because it means I can respect more deeply the care that other people have for me. It sounds so stupid when I explain it but it’s absolutely a whole different ball game.

The fact that I think the only thing that could severely tank my mental health is if I were to become homeless in winter or actively abused or something similar should speak volumes to you what I mean when I say that not having to do everything for the first time all the time is a huge mental weight off you.

I promise. It will feel better when you are 25. I promise that even if it isn’t fixed, it will be easier. And if I’m wrong when you hit 25, you can come yell at me about it. Probably I’ll still be here.

[creature-wizard]

When positive affirmation culture can have negative effects

There was a time when I decided to try this whole reality shifting thing because if there's one thing I will do, it's try random shit for the absolute hell of it. (And with the way I can get fixated on Current Events and spiral into obsessing over whether I'm Doing Enough even though my mental and physical health is absolutely tanking, I need to give myself regular distractions.)

So by "reality shifting," I mean that thing where people go to bed and try to hypnotize themselves into experiencing a "desired reality." This often included popular fictional settings like Harry Potter, My Hero Academia, or the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Of course, I wasn't buying into the wackier pseuodoscientific claims that some of the more... cultish people in this movement were making. However, I had full faith that people were experiencing something.

So I did everything people said to do. I created a DR, I used various shifting methods, I used subliminals and affirmations, and...

Well, not a lot happened.

I was easily able to reach the first "shifting symptom" of feeling floaty, but beyond that? Not much happened. Whenever I reached the point where I "should" have entered my DR, my brain would careen wildly into... something, anything else.

I kept at it for months. Again, I had full faith that these techniques would give me results similar to what other people were reporting. I had no reason in the world to think that this would be a thing that I, in particular, wouldn't experience.

I talked to other people about my problems shifting and many of them suggested things like listening to subliminals with affirmations in them, reciting positive affirmations, and all that. In other words, they'd made up their minds that this was a faith issue, and they couldn't see how this could possibly be anything else.

Hey, so remember that thing where I said that I can obsess over whether or not I'm doing enough? Yeah, this stuff low-key fed that particular anxiety. I was anxious that I just wasn't trying hard enough somehow, even though I was doing everything exactly right.

It was a source of stress, sadness, and self-hate.

Finally I had to step back and say, "No. There's nothing wrong with what I'm doing. There's nothing wrong with my mindset. The issue is my brain isn't wired or chemically balanced for this."

Well what do you know, the self-hate and stress went away.

You know what I've found? Big grandiose affirmations aren't shit compared to simply allowing for the possibility that a thing could happen, while also accepting that it might not, and accepting that the journey, the experience, is ultimately more important than the final outcome. Because when you do this, you give yourself permission to go for it, and you give yourself the capacity to not hold it against yourself if things don't work out.

Because not everything is a faith issue and believing that it is, is incredibly toxic. You will hurt yourself. You will hurt people around you. I grew up in a church that tried to make everything a faith issue, and that shit was so, so toxic. It was spiritual abuse.

Sometimes you can have faith the size of a mountain, and that mustard seed still isn't gonna budge.

[undeadorion]

I am so fucking pissed right now, I'm going to fucking fist fight my doctor!

I've been seeing this doctor since 2019. She's was okay. Not spectacular, but fine. She wasn't was willing to work with the transgender stuff and didn't (immediately) judge me for my weight. But it turns out she was only okay so long as it wasn't an on going thing she had to address over multiple visits.

Like I spoke to her about my anxiety, she gave me some meds that helped immensely. Once I didn't explode from the meds, it wasn't mentioned again and things were fine.

But then I got super sick for a full fucking YEAR and she wouldn't take it seriously. I've talked about it before, but it started with me asking if maybe I had either fibromyalgia or ME/CFS. They're both disorders of elimination, so she agreed to help me figure it out and started sending me to specialists.

Only a few months into this journey is when I got INTENSELY sick with that cough that wouldn't go away. She noted that my blood pressure was super high, too. It hadn't been during one of my regular checkups and she was the one who noted the correlation between my blood pressure being high when I was sick, but normal when I wasn't. She chalked it up to the effort of coughing making it high. Not the fact that I was also experiencing a chronic shortness of breath. So she gave me a high blood pressure medication collad Losartan and thought it would improve things. It didn't. And all through this my fatigue and cough just kept getting worse.

I got sick in August and it wasn't until the following May that she finally sent me to a pulmonologist (lung doctor) for a cough so intense that it was affecting my bladder control when a super strong coughing fit hit. It was a nightmare. I only got part way through the stupid long history of what I'd done and experienced to figure this cough out, and she stopped me to say it was likely asthma. That fucking fast.

The delay isn't the only reason I'm furious. It's the meds. Losartan didn't do a damn fucking thing to bring my blood pressure down. That only came down back to completely normal once my asthma was under control, because bronchitis had left me in a year long asthma flare. It took about 6 months for it to fully calm down with 2 inhalers and a pill. My cough never fully went away, but it stopped being such a life altering problem.

The only problem was, I still didn't feel better. For a while my fatigue levels improved, but then slowly declined again. I started having trouble sleeping and weird cramps and aches. Then due to a fluke with my pharmacy I didn't have the losartan for over a week. I'd slowly started feeling better but I'd chalked it up to a recent reduction in stress of having settled into a new job. But then taking it again after that break, my health immediately tanked. My back and calves all severely cramped up. Then I remembered something I'd spotted on the bottle (I'd recently changed pharmacies). The label didn't just say Losartan, it said Losartan Pot. Pot as in POTASSIUM. Which was caushing the muscle cramps because I had too much of it in my body.

I then looked up the side effects. Fatigue. Cough. Shortness of breath. Cramps. Are you fucking kidding me?!

I poked around a little more. While losartan isn't outright dangerous for people with asthma, it should not be the first choice for high blood pressure medications due to it causing bronchial spasms.

I stopped taking it immediately. And just a few days later, I feel like a completely different person. A week ago, I could do a single minor chore before I needed to lie down. Cooking a meal would wipe me out completely. Today I've already cleaned up the kitchen and gave the pantry a rough re-organization and partially cleaned up the pile of stuff accumulating around my desk because I was too tired to take care of it before. And I'm nowhere near needing a nap.

But that's not all. Let's rewind to a few weeks before I made this discovery. I finally had a follow up with my doctor following my ashtma diagnosis. She didn't look at my vitals at all, and she certainly didn't compare them to my last visit. My blood pressure came down from nearly hypertensive crisis to pretty much normal, and I'd lost 30 fucking pounds. And she couldn't give a fuck.

I told her about the pulmonologist SHE sent me to, and her response was "So you think you have asthma?" Then she insisted I stay on Losartan. Which I now know was a terrible call to make. I even talked to her about the fact that my fatigue was still keeping me from doing the bare minimum and she just brushed it aside. Like, excause me? That's a big fucking deal and the reason I keep coming to see you. To solve this problem, because this isn't normal! She went so far as to ask why I'd even come in if all I had was to tell her I had asthma. As if that didn't fundamentally alter everything we'd been doing. She then refused to diagnose me with ME/CFS, even though she agreed I likely had it. And had no answers as to what else could be causing my symptoms, but I coud use that "label" if I wanted to. Then proceeded to not include any of that in the notes, but did note that I'd said I'd intentionally not exercised out of spite for a shitty cardiologist she'd sent me to. Like quoted me, verbatim. Nevermind that was how I lost the 30 fucking pounds.

The nail in the coffin, however, is that my sister dealt with the same thing. We ended up with the same doctor by pure chance. She was in constant pain and had constant health issues, and our doctor just refused to do anything about it and kept brushing it off. When my sister finally got to a specialist, it turned out to be a serious issue with her gallbladder that required fucking SURGERY to fix.

I've already started the process with patient relations, and it sounds like they're taking it seriously.

I'm just so fucking furious. This has been such a long fucking journey, and to have a fix work in a matter of days is so surreal.

On the bright side, I can at least finally move on with my life. After being sick for nearly 2 years at this point. I first got sick in August of 2022, catching something that led to bronchitis while sitting with my sister in the ER for her bruised rib (she thought it was broken because a spoiled brat of a kid kicked her in the sternum while throwing a tantrum). It's now May 2024. I managed a lot in that time, but holy fuck.

[iantimony]

2023 year in review roundup

wow!! what a fucking year!!! goodbye and good riddance! happy first day of 2024!

this year i did 37 tuesdayposts! there were 53 tuesdays so that's about 70%! some of them were on fri/sat instead as shabbosposts but i think posting on tuesday or even monday does just work better for some fucking reason. maybe because friday and saturday are days that i am most likely to do New Activities for making/playing/watching/reading??? and so on monday or tuesday i can recap the just-finished weekend. shrug! we love tuesday so it's fine.

listening listened to all of twilight mirage and a little over half of partizan! shrieking shack podcast, just king things, well there's your problem, miscellaneous music (maneskin probably a notable winner in there)

reading a lot of little articles. a little tgcf. SO much fanfic. 'every heart a doorway' (bad). 'birthday of the world' le guin (good).

playing a little disco elysium. a little minecraft. a little nier automata. a little hadesgame. a LOT of pokemon go. and i got into magic the gathering this year!

watching a lot of youtube videos. so many gd youtube videos. evangelion, history of the world part ii, cunk on earth, vox machina animated series, cowboy bebop, first season of peaky blinders, the new tgcf donghua season!

making i did very little drawing/painting/illustration beyond life drawing a few times...however i was very prolific in crafting! i also theoretically made valentines gifts. i do not remember what they were tho lol.

fiber arts: i completed a big embroidery project (fermenting dregs album art hoodie), quantum shawl, mesh market bag, case for my knew laptop, finished that blue tank top even though i hate it, fixed the lining on my yellow knitted cowl, made a little knitted headphone top cover that i will probably redo differently, headband ear warmer for my roommate's mom, and FINALLY i just barely finished the scarf for my SO before the end of 2023!

print block carving: wristwatch print, gavelbocken holiday card print

misc/writing: some songxuexiao fencing au. some harrowhark abhorsen au. neocities website!

and so much pottery! this is all of it, barring the things i already gave away as presents before this photo (two pots and a little box and the little raven guy), but wow! that's so many fuckin object!

misc what a fucking year. some bad! had to file a big car insurance claim! got really sick while abroad and that persisted for a long fucking time! mini summer breakdown! some good stuff too - passed quantum mechanics FOREVER good fucking bye, did my first successful academic conference, finally started feeling better around the end of the year! learned my lesson: it's not fuckin worth stressing yourself to death over, and also i can't just Be At Home Aimlessly for months any more. it's bad for my mental health.

reviewing 2023 resolutions and goals --> I’d love to start writing again and play more horn but we’ll see i basically didn't do any creative writing at all this year barring a few lines of fanfic ideas (the abhorsen/tlt crossover one) HOWEVER i READ a lot of fanfic to marinate in and i played a LOT more french horn!! i joined the little youth orchestra which is like, uber goofy, but it means ive been playing on a regular basis again!

--> I also wanna listen to more weird music, and invest in actually owning some files, especially for some of the lesser-known bands and through bandcamp and stuff i spent all year meaning to do this and kept pushing it off so it rolls over into next year.

--> I really want to kind of dial those [unhealthy coping mechanisms] back again, focus more on existing in Reality and more in each moment, which hopefully will also help with some of the skin picking and other anxious habits that resurfaced. maybe more yoga, maybe re-establishing a meditation process lol lmao. nah. but definitely rolling it over into 2024.

--> I would love to think more about my fashion and how I present myself too, and work on making and tailoring more of my clothing in general actually not bad! basically zero tailoring but i did a pretty good job wearing some cute outfits.

--> I’ve been pretty good about being active so I’d like to keep that up, I still can’t do a pull-up but maybe this is the year! (lol) I should also start doing some minor exercises for my shitty arthritis toes to keep those okay once again: lol lmao. health issues had me really regress in some of my gains goals. plus side is toes are doin pretty normal.

--> a lot of last year was kind of a wash regarding research so I’m really looking forward to refocusing on that and really getting things moving. oh it moved! in a good way! i'm making good progress and hopefully i will keep that momentum going!

--> finally! I want to get back to tabletop! I miss doing it so much! it fell by the wayside for me because of how busy and overwhelmed I was, especially this past fall semester, but I want to start running and playing games with my pals again a little! i should have been putting these in playing as i went oops. the tabletop group i've run was a little fallow this year due to at least half of our group, including myself, not being in Tabletop Mood but we've played a lot of res arcana and other such games instead.

i had a few other resolutions in my digital planner on my ipad that didn't go in the writeup last year: namely, practice languages more (i did practice my mandarin a little but did not really learn any hebrew or korean unfortunately) and establish a non-software component of my research (nope, not in the cards, but i'm hoping to do something else this summer to let me get better with physical data/setups), and finishing the masters degree requirements (that will be the end of this upcoming spring semester), but overall i really did hit most of my resolutions and goals! even with being ill for a while! (except the finances. i am simply not looking at them <3)

2024 resolutions and goals

definitely some rollover! i will format this to hopefully be a little easier to respond to next year:

- get back on a regular workout schedule: swimming 1x a week, weights once or twice a week. would like to try and work towards my One Pullup goal again. would also be cool to try and work towards a hand/headstand. - try and be more mindful. i'm going to continue the grief therapy but also think about meditating more, doing more yoga, and so on. - there's a gallery on main street that solicits work from local artists for bimonthy themed exhibitions and i really want to submit at least one thing to it this year! the one due by end of january is themed 'florals', and the one two months after that is 'layers', so i'd really like to submit something to one of those. - more weird art! use that big canvas i bought in literally 2022! paint!!! - finally put together that travel journal from korea & japan (and also scrapbook-ify the papers i have leftover in a pile from that) - also, maybe do current scrapbook a little different? might need a new binder at the very least. - hang up that expensive quilt i bought in august - speaking of quilt: do some hand quilting, english paper piercing! i have so much fucking fabric! - find a new apartment to move into that hopefully won't suck! - try to secure some sort of summer internship or project that will let me develop some new skillsets that i might not be getting with my current research - finish the masters degree - write...a paper? for the work i just presented??? - keep tweaking neocities and make some more pages - keep track of recipes this year as well in my making section

i might start a little spreadsheet this year to keep better track of all my stuff because i really did Not want to go through all my separate listening and reading sections and extract what i liked the most, etc. this post required me to first back up a few extra early tuesdayposts from this year to dreamwidth, and then skim all of them to accumulate the above, and that was kinda a pain. and i love an excuse to start a new spreadsheet.

we did it! happy 2024! i don't think i have anything else to add to this wrapup but if i think of something i'll tack it into the upcoming Normal Tuesdaypost tomorrow! good job good night and good luck everyone!

[koinotame]

\o/

hi! it's me, nana / koinotame!

if you're wondering why i went inactive and then deleted, my mental health kind of (really) tanked... and i ended up deleting my blog in a fit.

it's getting better bit by bit though! and i've been wanting to get back into writing (and talking abt my unhinged/yan ideas i can't really talk to anyone else abt), so. here i am! for now, at least

as for my previously posted writing, there's some good news and some bad news: the bad news is that everything i wrote directly into tumblr (99% of snippets, a lot of ask answers, most exact content warnings, etc) is gone. the slightly less bad news is that iirc there were very very few posts of mine that weren't reblogged by anyone at all, so they're probably still out there? feel free to send them my way if you find any and i'll rb them. @/midnight-remembrance also has reblogged a couple of them! there's a couple snippets i have saved in some places, so i might repost those on my own as i find them, but there's very few of those. the good news is that anything longer (proper writing — oneshots, hcs, yan alphabet responses and so on, prompt responses, etc) is safely backed up where i originally wrote it! some of it is also on my ao3, which is the same username. feel free to send me asks about any you'd like to see again and i'll repost them! i might not post them if i feel too embarrassed about/wish i hadn't posted them, and i might rewrite/heavily edit some of them, but i think there's only a handful that fall into the former category and none of them were particularly popular. either way, no harm in asking!

as for some other updates: i'm a little divided on whether i want to keep posting explicit nsfw or not so we'll see. i might just keep it out of main tags. idk yet. regardless of what decision i make, this blog is still strictly 18+ and that will not be changing. since we can reply from sideblogs now, this is a sideblog and not my main now. why? sometimes i prefer to check up on a blog frequently instead of following them for a couple of reasons, but this felt very awkward when they were following me. so this being a sideblog relieves a bit of that stress. if this makes it sound like i have severe brain worms, it's because i do. to that effect though, if we interact every so often feel free to consider us mutuals regardless of whether or not i'm actually following you =w=b tbh i.............. am not really into genshin anymore. i might post about it here and there but i just Do Not (really) Care about it anymore. scara aside to some degree i also have no clue what's going on post inazuma lol whatever projects or commitments to writing or etc i had made beforehand. i forgot all of them so just pretend that never happened ok? ok i'll also probably be posting more sparsely, but we'll see! and (this is obviously the most important bit) i have no clue where i put the mika edit so we're back to my og classic pfp. the header scales terribly and is temporary, please ignore that too

all that aside, as a treat for anyone who sees this in time,

*roughly 6/22 done, but fairly quick to write. roughly one paragraph per character (sneak peek line: "it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that.") **more realistic isn't quite the right word(s)... probably won't post this one to the main tags regardless. won't be doing all of the characters (only important/relevant ones) and won't be writing more about/expanding on, so this one is just like. a one off experiment sort of thing. overall less violent than most takes on the au + leans a bit (or lot, depending on how you look at it) more on the religious aspect of self aware aus. i wrote a couple paragraphs a while ago, then rewrote them, but i'll only finish/post them if there's interest for it (sneak peek line: "aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace.")

i have one other new thing immediately ready for posting that'll get posted in a couple of days but that one's pretty silly

[willowpenguinwritting]

Party Girls inspired oneshot.

Rebbeca Allen sighed as she typed a message to Tori asking if she wanted to meet her partner. Raine danced past her in her slippers before looking at Becky's gloomful stressed look, so pinched Becky's chin and kissed her cheek. Raine was her pansexual partner and her sunshine. Raine could light up everything wherever they went. Becky's phone buzzed to see an excitable message from Tori. Yes, an excitable message from Victoria Spring, seemed unbelievable. Then there was another buzz with a message that explained Micheal had sent that and they were both free to meet at a restaurant for dinner. Becky typed back frantically smiling through her still-bitten lip when she heard a clatter and rose from the sofa she had been slumped in.

"Raine? What was that noise?" Becky asked as she entered the kitchen pulling her hair to rest on her shoulders. Becky glanced to see Raine in the splits on the floor picking up a bunch of cutlery. "You and your spoon juggling need to be kept under tighter control." Becky giggled. Raine nodded as she threw the spoons into the air before jumping up and catching all the spoons in a bowl. 

"Spoon?" Raine asked Becky presenting the bowl to her girlfriend.

 Becky picked up a spoon and twirled it between her fingers before answering with a short and sharp "Raine No, Put them back in the drawer properly."Raine sighed as she placed the spoons back in the cutlery drawer. 

"So do I get to finally meet Spoldren?" Raine asked Becky who nodded in response. 

"We are meeting them for dinner, now will you allow me to dye your hair again?" Becky asked.

Raine nodded and headed to the bathroom where they had hair dye galore and sat in front of the bath whilst Becky sat at the edge and slowly and carefully dyed her hair. The aim was red highlights, instead, the whole thing went a bit red. "Ummm oops." Becky laughed. 

"What have you done to my hair?" Raine inquired, her dark hair didn't suit been dyed very many colours because of the shade. 

Becky sighed "Lorraine don't be annoyed."

"You used my full name, am I going to be annoyed?" her girlfriend asked fearfully. 

Becky shrugged, "Well I think it looks nice, the red makes your hair look alive."

"I suppose it is ok," Raine responded as she looked at it in the bathroom mirror.  

Becky grinned "You look beautiful bubs," Planting a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. Raine laughed as she pointed to the cherry-coloured mark that Becky's lipstick had left behind. "Ooops?" Becky tried to suggest she was not expecting anything less than a mark. She pulled out a makeup wipe and wiped her girlfriend's cheek. 

"You need to either stop wearing lipstick or stop kissing me so much." Raine giggled from the tickling wipe.

Becky posted "How about no to both?"

"I need to get dressed." Raine started the obvious as she was still standing wearing a duck onesie and bunny slippers. 

Becky looked at her "Yep, you do. Remember we are going to a restaurant so that means your frog hoodie is off the options list."

"Homophobia at its finest," Raine commented raising her eyebrows.

Becky frowned "I hate you."

"I love you too," Raine called out as she left the bathroom and entered their bedroom. She gazed up at the painting next to their bed. It was two foxes painted in the Bisexual and Pansexual pride flag colours, their friend Frances had painted it for them. She pulled open the wardrobe and went along her assigned side, She pulled out a deep red blazer and trousers and a black sparkly tank top. She placed it to one side as it was for later she needed to look formal so she pulled on her bright pink tracksuit and headed into the dining room.

To say Becky was nervous would be an understatement. There were things from her past with Tori that she did not want to be brought up. In her head she had a mental list of things not to mention, this included Tori's brother Charlie and his mental health. If she mentioned that she was certain that something could instantly feel that something would go wrong.

For most of the rest of the day, Becky was a bit uncertain and anxious. She had been more anxious about other things than this but it was still a bit of an uneasy thing to do after not seeing Tori for so long.

When the hour of seven arrived the pair got into their shared car and began driving towards the restaurant. Becky's worries had not exactly faded in fact they had increased at the discovery of the restaurant being called Black Jack. It was another card game. Named ever so similar to the group who set fire to her school in year twelve. Raine grabbed her hand and stroked it delicately.

"It will be ok Becks." She said with a smile that she hoped would relax their girlfriend slightly.

Becky nodded with a half grin as they got out of the car. "Come on let's head in,"

The pair entered the restaurant to be waved over by Victoria and Micheal. It was an odd awkward pause before anyone actually said anything.

"Well hello, it's good to see you both." Micheal grinned.

Becky bit her lip unsure if this was the truth or not. If it was he was certainly acting odd, to say the least.

"Hello," Rainne said with a wave. Becky exhaled as Tori responded and started a discussion of how work was and all that jazz and adult talk that teenage Tori would have rather died than listen to or join in on.

"So Tori are you still going to have lemonade to drink?" Becky asked her feeling more comfortable now.

Tori laughed "Obviously I am."

When a waiter came to collect all of their orders for drinks Micheal shot Tori a look which he got an elbow to the stomach for. "Please just let me say it." he pestered.

"Fine." Tori groaned.

Micheal's face lit up and he turned to Becky "I can't believe Tori has a gay best friend."

"He told me he has wanted to do that for a year now," Tori informed the table.

Becky laughed "God I was so stupid back then."

"You weren't stupid," Rainne told her.

Micheal laughed "She was."

Tori just let out a loud heavy sigh. They all fell apart laughing after the argument had settled with yes Becky was kind of stupid in their past.