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tachimichishrine · 4 months

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"broken and fixed again"

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dazai osamu x fem! reader {hospital AU}

warnings: nsfw ; literally 1 fingering scene the rest is fluff ; mentions of suicide; not an actual au just a scenario ; fluff but it's just complaining abt your joints ; reader teases the living sh out of him bc flustered and soft dazai needs to be more mainstream ; makes him wear a nurse outfit with the power of words ; slight tw blood and pain i love seeing the silly in agony ; intended lowercase ; cursing ; so so so self indulgent i just got my second surgery in the span of 5 months dw im fine just dramatic as hell and my hospital neighbors are all gilfs

"haaaaaaah..."

dazai wasn't on any pain medications, so there was no way he was imagining that sound.

"haaaaaaaaaaahhhh..."

the day after being shot by fyodor, he wound up in the hospital due to his inability to be cured by yosano. it wasn't a big deal; he'd dealt with worse before, obviously. you don't spend as much time in the port mafia as he does and come out fully unscathed, after all.

"haaaa-"

then a slumping noise as if a body collapsed onto the ground. he was still on bed arrest, but he was growing restless being locked in the room all day with himself. the nurse who was tending to him seemed to be rather cold, but he knew that she'd turn to puddy for him shortly if he actually tried.

he groaned a little bit while getting up, fingertips grazing the paper thin clothing they were given at the spot where the bullet had pierced him. softly footsteps fell on the squeaky clean floor, and his head peaked outside his doorframe to look around for the source of the sound.

you were on the ground with a walker collapsed next to you.

pleasantly intrigued, he shot a quick glance at your facial expressions to check whether or not you were truly in agony, which you weren't. in fact, you seemed just as bored as he did. your arms spread out your sides like wings and your legs were tussled awkwardly as he guessed you were trying to keep the cheap clothing from revealing your butt-naked figure.

"oiii, psst psst," he called out, hand flattened next to his mouth as if he were whispering to you intimately in the empty hallway.

you tilted your head backwards, looking at him upside-down with what was an inarguably listless expression.

"heyyyyy," you seemed to be almost slurring your words, and he guessed you were hooked on enough meds to make a small fortune if sold on the streets. "wh-whooo... who are youuuu?"

a few steps forward and dazai was standing over you. he carefully lowered himself, his eyes scanned you again and a smirk played on his lips.

"that's quite the act," he snickered, which caused you to let out a groan.

truth is, you weren't on enough pain medication to get to that high. however, it had been a week since you were admitted, and you were losing your mind doing nothing all day. the operation went well, but there was always a high risk of infection or post-op complications and they'd insisted you stayed 10 days for observation. you tried chatting with the nurses, tried exploring the place, tried sleeping to recover faster but every solution tired out after a while.

they gave you a few tools to navigate your surroundings, one of which was the damn walker. you'd done crutches and mobility aids before, casts, splints and braces, but no one liked the walkers. they made you feel like you were a hundred years old, and your body might as well be.

so, you decided you'd collapse and see what happens, how long it takes someone to come find you, rescue you and make your day just a little less boring. you settled yourself onto the ground, threw the walker and got comfy on the floor.

the man who approached you seemed a bit concerned at first, but he appeared to see through your games annoyingly quickly and called you out on it without even pausing to indulge. you let out a puffy pout and crossed your arms. "mannn, no one here is any fun."

you caught a glimpse of bandages wrapped around nearly every one of his extremities, almost like a decoration more than anything else. you slowly turned yourself and shuffled your body so you were sitting down facing upwards to look at him.

"what're you in for?" you asked with a snicker, getting over the fact your plan hadn't worked because he seemed to be relatively normal and you sure could use a conversation right now. "armed robbery? assault and battery? tax evasion?"

"you wouldn't believe me if I told you," he mimicked your expression, piquing your intrigue with a sly grin. you couldn't help but notice he was incredibly pretty, and you quickly developed another hospital crush; you roamed the hallways enough to identify the regulars but not enough to actually speak to any of them, and having stupid crushes on just about everyone kept your mind mildly active.

"what, you got jumped by an elite ninja squadron or something?"

before he could retort, clicking of heels resonated from the end of the hallway. the pace picked up when the nurse saw two patients laying down on the floor with a toppled walker, calling for some kind of a code. you giggled mischievously even when she realized you were fine and helped you up. the man who's been with you for a few seconds also received a verbal beating while responding just like you did.

your hands went to the metal of the walker, and you rolled your eyes while deciding you'd try to come back this way and speak to him again at night when they were understaffed and no one was going to pester you. you were barely beginning your plans to escape yet again when something deep within your body that had been altered recently felt like it burst. it didn't, but the pain and the sight of the blood you were coughing violently onto the floor made you rack your brain over the long list of possible complications.

fuck.

you fell onto the ground again, but this time it was painfully real. wafting in and out of consciousness until you couldn't tell if you were fainting, having a seizure or if something else had happened. the nurse turned around too late to catch you, but quickly yelled out that code from before and instructed the man go and get help immediately.

your body felt so broken.

you were never more pissed off to see the damn white drapes, walls and the same old view out the window accompanying that damn beeping.

your finger was clamped in some device reading your heartbeat, and a bunch of sensors were hooked up all over your skin. your head was groggy, a stiff pulsation throbbing at the back like you'd given yourself a concussion.

"mmmmn..." a languid groan was all you could manage; your throat was dry and you felt like you could eat the ekg right now. you wavering in and out of a daze for a few minutes while you tried both to fight off the sleep and fight off the day.

a knock at your door roused your attention once more. your neck hurt too much to crane over and take a look, but you could definitely hear the door closing.

"oh, it's you," you said, the bandaged man making another appearance. "sorry about today. I didn't mean to fake it 'til I made it."

the laugh at your own joke hurt your chest and you tried not to cough.

"it's actually been a bit longer than you think," he mused while sitting at the foot of your bed.

you hastily cut off any word that he was thinking of saying. "don't tell me! I have 3 days left before getting discharged, and I'd rather it come earlier as a surprise than right on time."

you did not ask him why he was here, assuming he must be in the same exasperated position. instead, you asked him your question again from the other day.

"or at least your name," you added. "I gotta know to whom I owe the honour of a visit. the nurses must really like you to let you pull a stunt like this."

he chuckled, mostly to himself. "oh, you've got no idea."

despite his weird way of talking like everything was a riddle and he was a spy of some sorts, the man - whose name you learnt was dazai osamu - was not so bad. he lent you his phone (you had no idea how he had managed to get away with this kind of thing) for you to call some close friends, and listened patiently while you told him how you'd ended up in this hospital bed. he however did not explain what happened to him, nor why he had all those bandages all over himself.

he didn't say much at all, to be completely honest. you blabbered long enough for the daylight to cease seeping in from your curtains, and it was dark when you were both laying down side by side in the tiny bed looking up at the ceiling in silence.

"thanks for stopping by," you hummed, eyes closed but a slow smile on your lips. "didn't think I charmed you that much with my hospital charisma. you should see what I'm like at full power."

you didn't need to open your eyes to know he was smiling back. "anytime, darling."

another chuckle at his words and another long pause. you didn't like the soft humming of the machines around you, but it was different when you weren't alone. heavy eyelids combined with steady beeping led you to start slipping asleep when he spoke up again.

"you wanna know what landed me here?"

damn him for choosing now to tell you. you stirred uncomfortably, body smushed against his while you tried to lay down on your side to face him, but it was incredibly uncomfortable and you quickly retreated back to the hellish laying on your back. you actions spurred him to continue.

"I was shot," he admitted nonchalantly. he seemed to be examining his nails and yawning like he wanted to emphasize just how much he didn't care much for the words he said.

"so my ninja theory wasn't so far off, then," you chuckled for a lack of a better response. "what'd the bullet pierce?"

dazai would never admit that he was mildly impressed that you didn't ask about who had shot him, or why. "the doctor said I'm a 'lucky bastard', because it missed all my vitals."

you have taken note of where the wound was, and confirmed again when he said that because he must really be lucky to miss out on death and major complications if he got shot in the abdomen and it missed all the important things in there.

"your doc sounds like they wanted you to have some damage," you remarked, gaze back on his face. maybe you were particularly tired, but his eyes felt so dreamy when he smiled. you decided you'd ask him out once you got out of the hospital.

"oh, she definitely did," he agreed, "but she's an old friend and I think all my coworkers were hoping for something more serious."

"kinda sounds like you did too."

he considered what to say; his double-suicide jokes felt incredibly out of place in this environment full of people desperately trying to cling on to life. even if you seemed to pick up on the general direction of what he was implying, he shook his head and turned it towards you.

"are you implying that I'm a masochist?" said with a sly smirk.

"are you denying it?" you mimicked his tone.

he did not, in fact, deny it. you fell asleep shortly afterwards teasing him about it, and he just took it with a stupid grin on his face. your head fell limp onto the pillow, and he only began to be convinced you weren't just pretending again when your jaw slowly dropped down to slightly open your mouth ungracefully and let out a soft snore.

he could've gotten away with falling asleep beside you, but he didn't know how his nurse would feel about seeing him in bed with another woman.

two knocks at his open door signaled your presence.

"no walker," he said, showing you that he was impressed with an exaggerated nod of approval. "next thing I know, you'll be running marathons around the entire wing."

you huffed proudly, thinking about flopping onto his bed but your body wasn't quite ready to be thrown around just yet. "ahh, I wish. I've been told I need to stay an extra week because of my little incident. how's your timeline looking?"

he put up a four, indicating how many days until he abandoned you. faking a sorrowful sob, you wrapped your hands around his leg and hugged it like a child trying to get their parents to stay. "nuh uh, you're not! what happened to 'til death do us part'? was I the only one who said those vows?"

"apologies, my dear wife," he bowed apologetically, snickering. "I guess I'll just have to injure myself to come back to you~"

your frown was instantaneous and serious as you scooched up on the bed. "hey, don't joke about that kind of stuff. my old roommate was recovering from an attempt and she had it rough. I hate it when people joke about suicide just to sound funny."

oh.

dazai was lucky that all the members of the ada were too busy to come and visit him, because judging by your reaction, you would genuinely hate him if they heard kunikida call him a suicidal bastard or ranpo ask him why he's in the hospital if he wants to die. you may have been faking a crisis playfully the first time you met, but he felt a little ashamed lying in your presence with how truthful you were about your emotions. he admired it, but didn't know if he envied it too.

"anyways, I have something for you," you winked at him, then reached into the sleeve of your hospital gown and pulled out a simple flower. it was disheveled and barely alive, but some of the colour was still there and your smile was bright enough to compensate. "ta da!!"

"I thought flowers were not allowed in this hospital?" he raised a brow, a subtle pink dusting his cheeks at the action despite his typical unaffected demeanor and the fact that this gift was incredibly insignificant. his fingers held the stem delicately as you seemed proud that he liked it.

"they aren't!" you beamed with a giggle. "kai - the boy a few doors down from me - his girlfriend brought him some and that one really mean nurse threw them out. I was walking by the garbage and picked the best one for you."

he watched you shift closer when you finished speaking and laughed. "trash flowers."

"reminds me of you."

"ouch! I think I'm gonna need more pain meds from that sting!"

you called him a goof and continued to tell him about the rest of the hospital lore. he had been holding the flower for quite some time, and you asked what he was planning on doing with it. he asked you to fetch him one of those ridiculously tiny plastic cups at the drinking water stations and fill it up. the dying flower sunk into the water delicately while positioned on his bedside table.

responding to your remark that the nurses will have to throw it out if he let it out in the open, he reassured you that that won't be a problem. he still refused to reveal to you his methods, though.

day came and went; you finally asked him if he'd be interested in going out with you once you were both recovered; he did you one better and kissed you under the moonlight.

you didn't care that the walls of the hospital rooms were thin; it was good when you were collapsed and the dull thud could mean the difference between life and death.

however, it made what you were doing even riskier.

"fuck... fuuuck, osamu take... mmn take it easy," you murmured against his lips, thighs parted as his fingers reached deep enough to get you shaking.

he was laying on his side, supporting his weight on his forearm while he buried his other hand into you with slow, calculated movements. neither of you were fully recovered and as much as you wanted to slam him against something and grind on him until he was a babbling mess, you weren't in a state to try just yet.

instead, dazai was spending his last night in the hospital making your thighs twitch and chest heave. things progressed fast after the first kiss, especially since the two of you had nothing to do all day but speak to the other. he occasionally got calls on his phone where he had to excuse himself to take it, but other than that you didn't have much else on your minds except each other.

he took you on a date to the cafeteria and offered you a fine dining experience (junk food he beat out of the vending machines) complete with the most exquisite wine pairing (a pack of juice boxes).

you took him on the next, sneaking into rooms where you most definitely weren't supposed to be wandering and broke into the nurse's lounge. you both stole uniforms and changed, although you had to admit he pulled off the dress rather well. you got him to throw on the tightest size he could fit into, and he did a little catwalk in his formfitting outfit. none of the staff caught you making out in the supply closet.

and the third day was simply another moment of lounging in each other's rooms and talking about nothing. he accidentally dozed off and woke up an hour later to your fingers tenderly running through his hair. he gave you the side eye, receiving a kiss on his temple as a response. dazai retaliated with a kiss of his own, and suddenly you were carefully trying to lay down on him to kiss him deeper, better, but your groans were of pain and not pleasure and he offered to swap positions.

and fuck, was this man talented. you were happy just looking at him and muttering about how pretty you thought he was, but he was a lot more sensitive to your little teases and fingers exploring the outline of his body than he let on, and he had pushed up the bottom of your gown to get in between your thighs.

"nnng... ahh, do that again," you rasped out as his thumb rubbed your clit with slowly, languid motions. "is this your... mmmnnn... your way of feeling guilty for leaving me haaah... here all by myself?"

"sorry," he quipped, albeit not looking sorry at all with that lazy grin as he looked at you through low lashes. "I haven't even left yet and you miss me."

your hips buckled painfully as a jolt surged through your body and made you muffle a moan into the side of his neck. "hey, I said take it easy. can't have me extending my stay just 'cause you fucked me good."

he promised he'd do his best, but only thrust into you with harsher movements once he saw you purse your lips to keep from whimpering. you called him a little shit, but that just seemed to make him even more smug.

a nurse heard you cry out, rushing to check up on you; they didn't see dazai hidden on the other side of your hospital bed while you explained that you just had a nightmare and woke up suddenly, promising to keep it down. they just sighed, walking out with a frustrated shake of their head as dazai popped back up and giggled along with you. you leaned your head over the edge of the bed, holding his face in your hands so you could kiss him again.

"miss, please wake up. it's time for your medication, and you have a visitor."

you weren't sleeping. how could you, when it was your first night not crawling into dazai's bed to talk yourself to sleep? he was finally recovered enough to leave, and all you could do was ask him for his number so you could call him once you were out. 3 more days wasn't quite bad, but it was already piled on top of the countless ones that had passed. boredom was even more bitter once you'd tasted the sweetness of a friend.

reluctantly, pills dropped into your hand were thrown into your mouth and swallowed dry under the watchful gaze of the nurse. he didn't seem to particularly like you, but you supposed he had a right to when you kept breaking all the rules they had.

"what do I have to do to be next?" a smug voice resonated from the doorframe, lanky frame leaning against the wood as he watched you swallow.

you felt well enough to get up and give him a hug, but he beat you to it and leaned down to kiss your forehead. he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked your hair out of your face with the kind of shallow loving nature he seemed to have on by default. it took a few hours together for that to wear off and for his actions to begin feeling genuine again, but you never commented about it. you supposed everyone did that to a certain extent and you were just a little hyperaware of his giveaways.

"I didn't think you'd come back this soon," you admitted, trying to scooch on the bed so he could sit next to you as you used to. he seemed however to shake his head a little.

"I can't stay long, dear, duty calls," he said, but the look you gave him showed that you didn't believe that one bit. it didn't take much for him to give in and curl up by your side, clinging onto your body with a childish expression on his features. "this persuasive with nothing but your eyes, did I ever tell you how incredibly talented you are?"

"you did not, in fact. please do it more often," you chuckled, ruffling his hair and kissing him on the crown of his head twice before pulling him into your chest, his nose nuzzling in your neck right under your ear. you swept your hand across your body to hold him, but your iv was still in and it nearly got tangled in your limbs as well. "if you've gotta go, then why are you here, osamu?"

he gasped dramatically, turning towards the entrance. "nurse, nurse please get me something to fix my broken heart! my sweetheart doesn't want me here! on my surprise visit!"

the nurse seemed like he really was about to come in, but much more likely to be in order to remove your problematic visitor than hand him a first aid kit and fix his "broken heart". you shushed him, laughing hysterically as he got all of his melodramatic needs out of the way, asking you if you've considered giving him your house in your will, asking how long you wanted him to mourn you. refreshing, he was refreshing. a breath of fresh air after all these stuffy hours spent in the hospital.

"do you really need to go?" you asked, cradling his cheek with your palm and rubbing slow circles with your thumb. "have you just come to remind me what I can't have, osamu? how cruel of you. you may have been the one shot but I'm pretty sure you just twisted the knife in my back."

he enjoyed your playful banter, but this time a more serious look was on his face. you tilted your head to the side, watching him curiously, trying to analyze his movements and figure out why he was acting weird when suddenly, he grabbed the trashcan from next to him and coughed into it.

"oh my god— osamu, hey, oh fuck, that's blood..." you swore to yourself, calling out loudly for the nurse as well as pressing the emergency button you had on your bedside while you got to his side and held him softly, unsure what to do. he always seemed so above all of this, the treatment, the pain, the entire hospital even, that it felt shocking to watch him cough up more and more blood into the can, rasping without a single witty comment in between.

you combed your fingers through his hair, pulling all of it out of his face as if you'd both been hungover college girls waking from a rough night. the blood seemed to be easing up, but he was wincing and holding his hand to the spot where he said that he'd gotten shot.

"osamu, baby, try to breathe for me. in through your nose, as slow as you can manage. help is on its way, they're going to find out what happened and you're going to be okay, alright? you can't die, we spent all this time discussing my funeral plans and not yours, so I'm not ready," you joked, partly out of habit but mostly because you wanted him feeling reassured as you held him and waited for someone to come in and fix everything.

he seemed to try to say something, but you clicked your tongue and wiped the mixture of saliva and blood from the corner of his lips with your finger. "don't try to say anything. store every asshole remark you want to make in your head and tell it to me later, once everything has passed. 'cause it's going to pass, osamu, it always does. you're going to be fine."

you glanced down at his shirt, noticing the widening pool of crimson in his chest, and hoped that you were right.

you were discharged, but feeling more sick than ever. pacing back and forth in the waiting room, you resisted the urge to go to the receptionist and ask her about his condition again, only to be told that a, you aren't immediate family and therefore can't be informed, and b, she didn't have any information about his anyways.

dazai had been taken into surgery to fix what sounded like ruptured stitches (he was pushing himself too much and they burst, according to what you understood) and you refused to leave without knowing how he was doing.

the wait was long, agonizing and you contemplated faking a relapse of your illness just to get inside and see for yourself, but quickly convinced yourself that you're not that desperate. yet. a doctor walked out, spoke briefly to the receptionist who pointed at you with a look full of attitude. you sighed out of relief, figuring this meant you were finally getting an update.

"so, the doctor told me that your surgery went well and you'd be alright in a few days if you actually followed their words this time," you finished recounting, holding dazai's hand and pressing soft kisses to his knuckles in between sentences. "then you, my sleeping beauty, took two lovely hours just to wake up. I slept a little while waiting, so if you find some drool on your sheets... technically, that's your fault."

drowsy, half-conscious but still able to weakly chuckle at your words. his fingers twitched a little in your grasp, so you just continued to hold him tenderly while he let out drawn-out gasps as he adjusted to being awake.

"try to focus on my voice," you offered, knowing all too well the experience of waking up and wanting to slither out of your body. "don't think about the pain, don't try to convince yourself that you're stronger than it. just listen to me, okay?"

he whispered a soft "okay" to let you know that he was going to try, and you smiled against the back of his hand.

"tonight, I'm going to stay here with you," you begun reciting, almost like a fairy tale that should've started with once upon a time. "I'll sneak into the cafeteria, talk to my guy to get you the good stuff, y'know the green jell-o that everyone is jealous of? tomorrow, I'll put you on a wheelchair and we can go terrorize the nurses again. the day after, we can just stay in bed and I'll kiss you all better so that the following day, I can give you a ride home and we can finally get the hell out of this boring place."

his grip on your hand slightly tightened, and you watched his face flush a soft pink. you checked his temperature, wondering if he was spiking a fever already, but realized it was the rosiness of a blush. you giggled at him and his flusteredness, holding him near and continuing with more tales of ridiculously detailed date plans.

he fell asleep again once you'd gotten to your plans on day 43, but you kept going until you got told visiting hours were over and you had to leave. you kissed his sweaty forehead and swore you saw him smile faintly as you walked out.

you did everything you told him you'd do.

you got him the treats he wanted, noticing how he was especially shy around you when you started bringing him the little trinkets. you bought him real flowers, too, making sure you hid them as well as possible from the hospital staff, but you were already professionals at this point.

after his incident, you learned about a softer side to dazai, one that led him to blushing and losing his words when you complimented him instead of responding with his own. you would surprise him with a spontaneous fashion show featuring the hospital's limited assortment of clothing options, or wearing the nurse's uniform again as you pretended to be helping him take his meds and reminding him to take it easy.

and he did. dazai finally listened, allowing you to pamper him and actually voicing when his pain was getting bad. he mentioned briefly, on a single occasion, that his past job involved a lot of physical pain, but you sensed that you shouldn't bring it up any further. you just let him fall asleep, over and over again, in your arms and never rushed him. the best thing was that you could pretend at work that you were still gone on medical leave, so no one bothered you while you stayed with him.

"does it bother you that I'm always around?" you asked softly on one occasion, helping him to and from the bathroom after spending nearly 30 straight minutes joking about piss kinks. "I don't mean to be too much, constantly by your side. I know some people get kinda annoyed when you care too much, too soon."

dazai, walking with his arm over your shoulder so you could support some of his weight as he made his way back to the bed, seemed to have his legs give out suddenly. your reflexes were fast, and you swooped down to catch him, his body arched backwards as you looked down at him like you had been dancing the tango.

the sneaky bastard smiled at you.

"you're cute when you worry," he said simply, and you briefly considered dropping him out of spite. instead, you kissed him and slowly brought him onto the bed. even more cautiously, you sat down on his lap, little to no weight actually being placed on him as you supported yourself on your parted knees. "hm? what's this? what happened to being worried about being too much?"

you ignored his taunt and sat there for a few minutes, just holding him, kissing him and whispering everything that went through your mind. "surely you aren't complaining, are you, sweetheart? yeah, I didn't think so."

it was harder for him to sit still than it was to endure the pain; he slowly got weaned off the medication, but at the same time he was strictly forbidden from going out, using his phone or seeing many people.

on the day of his discharge, you begged him to let you drive him home. he said that it wasn't your responsibility, that he would manage, but the man he was calling sounded like he wanted dazai to rot away in the hospital for the rest of his life.

"all of that because you don't do your paperwork?" you asked with a chuckle, sitting by his side with his belonging in a bag on your lap, waiting for him to finish his call with his friend from work, if you could call that friendship. "really, I told you that I don't mind. let me drive you home, I'm sure this kuni... kunikida guy will appreciate it. what exactly is your problem with that?"

"I like to maximize my time spent annoying kunikida," he explained sensibly with a grin, groaning slightly as he got up and sat back down on the wheelchair. you placed the bag on his lap and began wheeling him towards the exit while he continued. "it's been too long since I've been a pain in his ass, sooooo..."

"is that an excuse 'cause you don't want me seeing your place?"

he gasped loudly, gathering the attention of all that you passed by. "dear, I swear that I'm a good liar. how do you see through me so quickly?!"

"the same way you see through me, I suppose," you laughed softly. "and if you don't feel ready to have me so much as see your home, I don't mind, I'm a patient woman. get it? patient. it's a hospital joke."

your understanding of nearly every curveball he threw at you was too much, and quite frankly he couldn't handle it. every time he tried to push you away, gain some distance because you were getting too comfortable with him emotionally, too close to the parts of him that he didn't keep guarded, you somehow managed to take a step back without hating him or demanding more. he'd always been the type to let women fall for him, that's true, but you weren't asking for anything in return and he just didn't get it.

that was the reason dazai couldn't let you take him home, not because he was ashamed of where he lived but because your relationship was confined within the walls of this hospital and he was afraid of what would happen if you continued outside of them.

it was also the reason he found himself crying once you finally brought him to the front entrance of the hospital, about to check one more time with him that he refused to get a ride with you when you noticed his tears. panicked, you looked at his chest for signs of blood, his face for signs of fever or pain, anything physical.

"osamu, is everythi— nmmf!"

he'd never kissed you like that before, grabbing your face while you crouched down to look at him and just feel you, all of you, on his tongue. desperate and needy, like he'd never touched you before or like you were some kind of lifesaving drug (which you must've been: he hadn't thought about suicide in weeks, hadn't joked about it, hadn't asked someone to a double-suicide. the prospect felt so foreign, ridiculous when he thought about never seeing you again). in the middle of the lobby, you were practically making out all of a sudden which was why you had to pull away temporarily and look at him, confused.

you didn't ask him why he did that. you just laughed (he loved the sound of your laugh) and called him impatient. yet somehow, both of your gazes met and there seemed to be some kind of mutual understanding of the feelings involved. you were so genuine about your emotions that he both psychologically and physically broke.

he was silent as you wheeled him to your car, helped him in and told him to wait as you returned the wheelchair. he sat down, looking at the mess, the faint chaotic smell that somehow matched you perfectly and relaxed into the passenger seat. when you came back, asking him for his address, he opened his mouth meekly to ask if he could stay with you for a few days since he knew he would slack off on the meds and eat junk food if he was living alone again. he almost looked embarrassed as he asked it, looking down at his hands instead of at you.

he wasn't wearing his bandages. in truth, they'd been cut off since he had that emergency surgery, but he never put them back on. dazai told himself that it was because he liked to feel your skin on his, but deep down he knew that it was much more than that.

too quickly. dazai osamu fell in love too quickly and he didn't know how to make it slow down.

"osaaaaaaamuuuuuu!" you called out, trying to wake him up at 6 in the morning. "time for your medicationnnnnn!"

he pretended to snore, and you pretended not to notice his tricks.

you stood there, hand on your hip, sweaty as you were just back from your morning exercise. trying to keep your health in the kind of shape that you wouldn't have to go back to the hospital was nice, but the early mornings took a while to get used to. luckily, it helped that you had your snoring boyfriend as a natural alarm clock.

"oh, he's sleeping? that sure is a shame," you dramatically pouted, setting the small cup with the pills down on the bedside in fake dejection and loudly walking over to your bathroom. "I guess I'll just have to shower all alone..."

on command, the covers were thrown in the air, osamu yelling "I'm awake!" and swallowing the pills dry in a panicked frenzy.

it works every time.

he giggled, holding your hand once he got up in order to make sure you weren't joking and truly drag you to the bathroom. you barely managed to murmur a "good morning" before he was all over you, slowing down only when you told him to take it easy with a laugh.

you'd both met each other when you were broken, but right now you've never felt so whole.

#dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu x reader #dazai bsd x reader #dazai x reader bsd #dazai bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #down bad tm #im unwell for them

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whatsnewalycat · 6 months

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 14

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 14: Wish You Were Here

Chapter Summary: Dieter takes action.

Word Count: 9.9k+

Content / Warnings: dieter pov, implications of suicidal thoughts, swearing, alcohol use, airplane, uncertainty, parker/jackie, infidelity (not our heroes), thoughts of cocaine use/relapse, opera, fame, very vague understanding of the criminal justice system excuse that pls, bribery, lotta fucking dialogue, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, our boy is a big sappy mess and we love him for it

Notes: Chapter title from “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd. First and foremost, everything is gonna be ok, ok? I promise. Also, good news for people who like this story—since we’re nearing the end, I’m going to make it my primary writing focus for a while. Will be posting to AO3 later bc I can’t from mobile it’s a nightmare.

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— Dieter senses your absence before he even opens his eyes.

Oftentimes you wake before him, still weaning off your internal alarm of 5:30AM EST (not-a-fucking-chance o’clock PST). When this happens, you brew some coffee and drink your morning cup in bed, passing the time by reading, or fucking around on your phone, or writing in your journal.

Most of the time he opens his eyes and finds you deeply engrossed in one of these activities. Sometimes you’re cuddled up into his side, silently tracing patterns onto his skin. Even when you’re not in the same room when he wakes, he can still feel you, your life force brushing up against his.

But this morning is different.

Dieter winces at the morning light and sits up, rubbing his face before looking around the room. He clears his throat, then calls out your name.

It echoes back to him.

The silence that follows is eerie and distinct, its vacuousness an exclamation point that hurts his ears.

How can nothing be so loud?

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he goes to grab his phone off the nightstand and instead finds a note with his name on it. He sits there staring at it for a minute, rubbing the layered notebook paper between his fingertips.

The gears in his brain start to turn.

He looks at the armchair where your suitcase has been sitting the week and a half. It’s gone.

Understanding twists his guts bowtie.

Denying the cardstock confrontation, Dieter puts on a robe and searches the house.

He finds nothing.

Each empty room accumulates buzzing and hot beneath his skin.

He goes outside.

The patio, the garage, the driveway, the street.

Calling your name like a kid who lost his mom in a department store, panic building with every utterance, a desperate crescendo.

By the time he returns to the origin point, his thoughts are stumbling over one another trying to explain what the fuck could be possibly be happening, because this can’t be real.

It’s a joke, it’s a terrible joke that you’ll laugh about later—or, no, there was an emergency and you had to go—but wouldn’t you wake him? Wouldn’t you tell him? Maybe you went to the store and you’ll be right back. But why would you bring your suitcase?

He snatches the paper off his nightstand and unfolds it.

—

Dee,

I need you to know this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you as much as humanly possible, and then some. Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for not giving you a choice.

I love you with everything I am.

Until the next life,

Lua

PS: I stole some cash from your wallet. I’m sorry for that, too.

—

The words don’t compute at first.

He shakes his head and reads it again.

And again.

A thousand-pound weight drops his stomach to the floor. Adrenaline pumps through his heart and turns his limbs gelatin. Blood whooshes behind his ears, and—God, he’s going to be fucking sick.

The note wavers in his grip and the text starts to blur.

This isn’t right.

This can’t be happening.

He needs to talk to you right fucking now.

Overcome with this sudden rush of panic, Dieter grabs his phone off the nightstand, ignoring the barrage of notifications littering the screen, and calls you.

The line trills, and further away, he hears “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by The Velvet Underground and Nico play.

He follows the noise into the kitchen, where your phone buzzes on the countertop, displaying your contact photo for him. The one where you’re both mid-laugh with red lipstick and black face paint smudged all around your faces.

Your voicemail picks up.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

A tone signals the start of recording. Dieter clears his throat, then says, “Hey, doll. It’s me. This is probably stupid because your phone is here, but I don’t know,” he pauses to gather himself as everything around him becomes blurred by tears. When he speaks again, his voice is somehow gummy and ragged at the same time, “I don’t know what to do. You’re gone, and there’s this note and… Fuck, whatever it is, we can figure it out. Please, Louella—Lua, baby, I love you. If you hear this somehow, please call me.”

When he hangs up, all he can do is stand there, staring at her phone.

The air particles around him throb with this deep, dense sorrow that cracks him wide open and hollows him out. It’s heavy. Infinite. All-consuming, like loss on loss on loss on loss.

He knows, like he just knows things, that this is what you were feeling before you left. He knows you left your phone so nobody could find you.

Beyond that, though… It's a brick wall. He tries, although he doesn’t really understand what the fuck he’s doing, to send out some kind of a psychic ping. Sometimes he can get a sense of you this way.

This time he gets nothing.

He can’t hone in on anything, can’t even feel the rough edges of your life force. The string that connects your tin cans has been severed.

What the fuck does that mean?

The not-knowing makes him anxious. His imagination starts wander deeper into the dark forest, showing him taxis and mirrors and riverbeds and—

Your phone jumps to life.

It starts ringing to the tune of “Take Your Mama” by Scissor Sisters, lighting up with a photo of you and Parker.

He scrambles to grab it and answers, “Parker—”

“Dieter?”

“Is she with you? Do you know where she is?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t she with you?”

“No, I just woke up and she’s fucking gone and there’s this note,” he sighs and throws his hand out at his side, “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“A note, what does the note say?”

“Hang on, let me,” he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging through the pockets of his robe, “Here we go, ok…”

He reads it to Parker, who remains silent for a long while afterwards.

“Until the next life?”

The tips of his ears heat up, and he runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to anyone else this morning?”

“No, I just woke up,” he starts pacing the length of his kitchen island, explaining, “Last night we were talking about moving in together, having her come out here, and… I don’t know, did I fucking scare her off or something? She seemed into it, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe I was going too fast—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, ok, slow down, papi,” Parker interjects, “It’s not like that. Her apartment was raided this morning.”

Dieter frowns, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, some fucking journalist went poking around, talking to her neighbors and shit, digging into stuff about Ethan, their business, all that. He brought it all to the cops and demanded they do something about it, so they got a search warrant.”

Dieter stays quiet as his mind whirrs, trying to comprehend this information.

Parker continues.

“I went over there this morning, just to check in on the place, and it was fucking crawling with cops. I FaceTimed Lou and told her, then she hung up and I haven’t been able to reach her since. Figured she was talking to you, but…”

Poisoned words cycle through his head, begging to be released, but he traps them behind clamped lips.

“I called Reese to see if he knew anything, since he bumps elbows with a lotta those criminal justice guys, you know?”

“Reese?” Dieter furrows his brow, “Married guy? I thought you were done with him.”

“Yeah, well,” a sigh crackles in his ear, then Parker says, “Good thing I’m not. Turns out, he’s friends with the DA. He told Reese about the journalist shit, said they have a warrant out for Lou. Wanted on possession with intent to distribute and drug trafficking for the pot stuff, oh—and possession of cocaine, because apparently they found one of Ethan’s hiding spots.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

Hundreds of thoughts ricochet around his head screaming for attention. The whole goddamn dashboard is lit up and blaring WARNING WARNING WARNING—

The nausea returns. Dieter plucks a half-smoked joint from the ashtray on his countertop and lights it, then turns and slides down the cabinet onto the kitchen floor.

He takes a few hits, waiting until the overwhelm dims a bit before whispering, “Fuck, Parker, this is bad.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The skunky smoke burns his lungs as he inhales again, holding holding holding, then lets it go.

Things start to slow down enough for him to backtrack, “Did you say a journalist?”

“Yeah, Reese couldn’t get a name, but there was this guy outside the building this morning who was—oh, fuck.”

“What oh fuck?” Dieter wrinkles his nose at the roach and takes one more drag before stubbing it out on the shiny hardwood floor.

“It was that point dexter motherfucker that did your interview. That was the guy! And I was on a video call with Lou—”

Parker cuts himself off with a gasp.

I couldn’t make you choose.

“Oh fuck,” Dieter breathes, “I gotta call you back.”

He hangs up and trades your phone for his own, rejecting an incoming call from Darlene.

It takes him three seconds to find it.

Dieter Bravo Girlfriend Wanted On Drug Trafficking Charges, Claims In Email to DIRT: “He Was In The Dark”

The header presented at the top of the article is your mugshot from your previous arrest. Your eyes appear puffy and dull and hopeless. Below it, the article continues:

Dieter Bravo’s newest girlfriend reportedly has a warrant out for her arrest in relation to drug trafficking charges.

Early this morning, the NYPD hit Louella Friedman’s Downtown Brooklyn apartment with a search warrant. Friedman was not present at the time the warrant was executed, so no arrests have been made, but law enforcement sources tell us that she is now wanted by the state of New York on multiple drug charges.

This is not Friedman's first run-in with the law. Just days ago, she appeared alongside Dieter Bravo for an exclusive interview with DIRT, in which she admitted to being convicted of felony drug trafficking in 2018. She stated during this interview that she has “changed a lot since then … we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

The email we received from Friedman this morning paints a different picture:

“As you probably know, my apartment is being raided. I need one thing to be clear: Dieter is not complicit. He didn’t know about and did not take part in my illegal activity. He was in the dark. My mistakes are my own, and I ask that the blame be placed appropriately.”

It’s assumed that Friedman is still in the LA-area, as she and Bravo have been spotted out and about a few times this week. Before that, the pair were seen in New York, which leads us to wonder how much time the Academy Award winner actually spent in her apartment.

Bravo himself has a notoriously checkered past with drugs, and although his antics have been subdued since the “publicity stunt” for the movie Limbo (premiering next May), it wouldn’t be considered out of character for him to become knowingly involved with a drug dealer.

DIRT will continue reporting as this story unfolds.

—

The first person Dieter calls is Lincoln, who answers on the second ring with a cheerful, “Good morning, Dieter!”

“Lincoln, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m grabbing breakfast from that pla—”

“Change of plans,” Dieter leafs through the clothes hanging in his closet, “Get over here now.”

“What about—”

“Listen, I need you to get me the next flight to New York. And, uhh,” he rips a few shirts off their hangers and tosses them into the open suitcase on the floor, “Clear your schedule for at least two days. I need you to housesit.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dieter ponders the question for just a moment, long enough for a sharp ache to pierce through his chest, then says, “Hurry the fuck up, ok?”

He hangs up.

The second person he calls is his lawyer.

When he tells the guy about your situation, he says, “Well, it sounds like there’s enough room for deniability, I don’t think they’ll bring charges against you—”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter scoffs, “What about her, how could she get out of this?”

“With all due respect, Dieter, you’re my client, not her.”

“Come on, man. What if, you know, I was in her situation?”

On the other line, the lawyer sucks his teeth, then says, “Well, theoretically speaking, you would be looking to either turn yourself in or see if you could get the charges dropped.”

“How would one get the charges dropped?”

“The District Attorney would need to drop them.”

“Uh-huh,” Dieter nods and rubs his lips, then queries, “And if—you know, like you said, theoretically—if he were to be convinced to drop the charges—”

“See, that is a tight line to walk, and one must tread very carefully, you understand? Many methods people attempt to use in persuading district attorneys, for example, bribery or blackmail, get sticky quick. They offer the wrong amount of money, or don’t get enough dirt, or what have you, then they’re in a world of hurt.”

“Well, sure. Those people don’t use their head. But if someone wanted to just… sit down and talk to him, would that automatically raise a red flag?”

“Depends. If someone of similar notoriety as you reached out to him to set up a meeting, it might raise a red flag. But if they happened to run into each other… probably not as much.”

“I see.”

The front door swings open and he looks up, expecting to see Lincoln, but instead locks eyes with Darlene. She’s holding a phone to her ear and says, “Yeah, he’s here.”

“I gotta go,” he says, then hangs up the phone and greets Darlene, “Hey.”

Her heels click-clack on the floor as she strides over, taps on the screen of her phone, and says, “Ok, Mark, you’re on speaker. Dieter’s here.”

Darlene sets the phone down on the counter and starts rummaging through the leather bag hanging off her shoulder. The phone speaks:

“Dieter, we need to talk. Is Louella there?”

“No.”

“Is she going back to New York?”

Not sure how to answer the question, Dieter rolls his eyes, “Is that what this is about?”

“Yeah, look, this isn’t good. I’ll cut to the chase. If you endorse her claim and cut ties, we can keep you on, but if you don’t, we gotta let you go, bud.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Darlene answers this time, “We’re serious, Dieter. The optics are terrible—”

“The fucking optics, un-fucking-believable,” he mutters, pushing off the counter to pace the kitchen.

“Is it really unbelievable?” Darlene blinks, her scathing gaze steady on his, “Coke head dating a felon who’s wanted on drug charges? You don’t see how studios will react to that?”

He doesn’t answer. She continues.

“If you release a statement corroborating her story, explaining how you didn’t know, and things are over between you—”

A groan of agony rises in his throat.

“—it will work. She gave you an out, Dieter. Take it.”

His nostrils flare. Heat rises to his face and he hisses, “You never liked her, did you?”

Darlene scoffs, “What?”

“Did you even give her a chance, or did you just write her off the second you met her? That shit weasel from DIRT is the one that set all these fucking dominos up, did you know that?”

“No, of course not—”

“Dieter,” Mark sighs, “This isn’t personal. Look at the facts. You’ve done three stints in rehab just within the past decade. Beasts of the Bubble depicted you as a drug addict—Christ, you overdosed in that hotel. You just got divorced, had a ton of bad press from that. Now you’re in this very new, very serious relationship with a widowed felon. And, what, a week after swearing she’s a law-abiding citizen, cops find enough shit in her apartment to issue a warrant for her arrest? Do you know how that makes you look? Does it sound like you’re a person anyone could trust to sign onto a project?”

Dieter presses his palms against the kitchen counter and leans over the phone, “It sounds like you’ve already made a choice, Mark. You wanna drop me as a client, just fucking do it.”

“If you make a public statement saying you were shocked to find out that she took advantage of your vulnerable state, you’re not using, blah blah blah, this could go away relatively quickly. Most likely she’d be painted as a con woman or gold digger or something along those lines, which makes you the victim. Granted, that makes you look a bit like a sucker, but we can live with that.”

The nausea returns.

“I can’t,” Dieter shakes his head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t live with that. Saying that she tried to steal my money—god, not a fucking chance in hell—”

“Of course, you wouldn’t say that,” Darlene cuts in, “People might infer that, is all Mark means. You know how this works—”

“Yes, I do know how it works. And no, I can’t. I won’t. It’s all fucking bullshit, the whole thing. Darlene, you’re bullshit,” he directs his voice to the phone, “Mark, you’re fucking bullshit. Fucking… optics and public opinion and the two of you trying to stage direct my fucking life—my life. Mine. I am my own person. And I love her. I’m going to find her, and fix this, and spend the rest of my fucking life with her even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else but us.”

Darlene holds up her hand, “Dieter, you’re making a mistake—”

He laughs.

It booms, dry and humorless, through the house.

She jumps in surprise at the noise, then looks at him like he’s fucking crazy. Which is fair. He sounds fucking crazy.

But for once, he feels completely sane.

His spine straightens flag pole and he shakes his head, “Trust me, Darlene. I’m not.”

They sit there, staring at each other in a silent standoff. Her hazel eyes flick around his face, then drop to the phone.

“Mark, I’ll call you back.”

Darlene ends the call before Mark can respond and stomps around the dining room table to a solid oak credenza, popping the top off one of the decanters of booze.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need a drink.”

“It’s 10am.”

Whiskey sloshes into the crystal tumbler. Darlene glances over her shoulder at him, holding up the bottle in question. He sighs, which she interprets correctly as a yes, and pours a second glass.

Dieter murmurs a thanks when she returns and hands it to him. He takes a big swallow of the liquor. Leaning back on the counter beside him, she does the same.

“How’s she doing?”

His stomach twists.

He takes another swig and shrugs, then digs the note from his robe pocket and gives it to her.

She reads it, then passes it back and empties her whiskey down her throat.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he mutters into the tumbler as he drinks the remaining booze in one large, burning gulp.

“So you don’t know where she is?”

Dieter pinches his eyes closed, tilting his head up at the ceiling, and shakes his head, “She was gone when I woke up. Took her suitcase. Left her phone, funny enough.”

After a brief silence, she tells him, “I didn’t know David was looking into her. Even if I did, I would never try to get her in trouble. You know that, right?”

He shrugs. His shoulders weigh a million pounds.

“Look,” she sighs, “Maybe I don’t see whatever it is you see in her, but I do see that you love each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’s turning herself in?”

He furrows his brow and looks down at the floor, shaking his head, “No.”

Dieter breathes it in, that palpable emotion still clinging to the air. He sinks into the dense, dark feeling—blackest ink in the world—letting it carry him downstream. There’s a glimmer of something. A spark of you.

He speaks it out loud.

“She’s in the fucking woods now.”

“In the woods? Dieter, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, scrubbing his face with his hands, “I don’t fucking know. I’m scared, you know, with the note…”

He doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t speak it into existence, maybe it won’t be true, that you’re looking for a place to die. Like how dogs do when they’re ready, crawling off into isolation to protect their loved ones.

Darlene stays quiet.

He swallows hard and starts pacing the kitchen floor again, running his fingers through his hair, “If I can get the DA to drop the charges, maybe it won’t be too late. Maybe I can fix this. But I have to find her, too.“ A hot rush of frustration overtakes him. He slams his fist down on the countertop with a thud and barks, “FUCK!”

“Ok,” Darlene turns to face him, placing a hand on his arm, “It’s gonna be ok—”

“But what if it’s not?”

Emotion clouds his vocal cords and vision, warping both into a wet, smeary mess as he says, “What if she fucking—fuck, Darlene, what if she goes through with this? I can’t do this without her. I won’t.”

“We don’t know that this is a suicide note—”

His whole body twists up into a snarl, a guttural moan rising from his throat as the idea shreds him to bits. He shakes his head in protest, because he does, he knows that’s what this is, but he can’t fucking bear to speak its name.

Darlene watches him unravel for a moment before taking the crystal tumblers back to the credenza for a refill. When she returns, she holds one out to him and asks, “We need a plan to track her down. Have any ideas?”

He rolls his head on his shoulders to look at her, glancing down at the cup, “We?”

She nudges him again, so he takes it and sips while she grimaces, “If I didn’t raise hell about the interview and get David in trouble… who knows, maybe we wouldn’t be here. I doubt he was looking to write an exposé on her before that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he shrugs, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Still, I’m… sorry,” she stares down at her glass and swirls the amber liquid around a bit while telling him, “The contract, too. I’m sorry about that. Like Mark said, it’s not personal. It’s business.”

“I know.”

“You’re sure, though? That you don’t want to corroborate her story?”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to throw the love of my life under the fucking bus, Darlene.”

She holds up a hand in defense, “Ok—”

“Even if that’s what she wanted me to do, no fucking way. She’s a good fucking person and I won’t sit here and agree with people saying she’s some fucking lowlife, because she’s not—”

“Ok ok ok—Dieter, I understand. I was just making sure.”

He huffs and takes a drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over them. The booze starts to course heat through Dieter’s veins, sedating his agitation, making his head swim.

“If you’re not my publicist anymore, why the fuck are you still here?”

“Because I’m still your friend.”

He looks over at her, meeting her hazel eyes, and senses sincerity.

His jaw works back and forth. He takes another drink, then tells her, “I’m going to New York to meet with the DA. Lincoln should be here any minute, he’ll stay here in case she comes back while I’m gone. I’m gonna have him try to track her whereabouts, see if she left any breadcrumbs—”

“You have a meeting with the DA?”

“Not… necessarily.”

“Then, what—” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “I don’t wanna know, do I?”

“Doubt it.”

“Right,” she sighs, shakes her head, then starts pacing, “Well, if Lincoln is here, he can call around to places, but I’m assuming you don’t want him to leave the house? In case she comes back?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll help follow up. Call around, and if needed, go to the places she might be. See if I can’t track her down.”

Hope swells in his chest. His posture softens, and he nods, “Thank you.”

She waves him off, “You said she left her phone, right?”

“Yeah, uhh,” he pulls it from his robe pocket and stares at the lock screen, “I felt, I dunno, weird… about going through it. So I haven’t yet.”

Darlene holds out her manicured hand, so he gives it to her.

“Zero two one four eight eight.”

She types in the passcode and starts tapping around as she paces, sipping her whiskey every now and then.

Meanwhile, Dieter finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass, wavering back and forth on whether or not to pour another. A hungry buzzing works through the tendons in his neck. There’s an old, familiar voice at the back of his head, urging him for more more more, begging, pleading for sedation, anything to make these big feelings less so.

Booze would be great, but you have the morphine, too, or the coke, fuck—now would be the perfect time for coke. It would straighten out your thoughts. Sharpen you. It could help you, Dieter, really. Help you clear your head and get to the bottom of this fucking mess, it could be the thing that saves her—

“She made an outbound call this morning,” Darlene murmurs as she punches the number into her phone, then raises it to her ear.

Dieter hears the faint voice from the speaker answer, “Hollywood Checker Cabs, how can I help you?”

She snaps her fingers at Dieter and pantomimes writing. He scrambles around the kitchen trying to find paper and a writing utensil while she asks, “Hi, my friend ordered a cab early this morning and I’m trying to track where she might’ve been dropped off, can you help me with that?”

Dieter finds a notebook on the counter. He pulls the pen from its spine and writes down your phone number and full name, then slides it over the island counter to Darlene, who nods and reads your phone number, then says, “Yeah, she called at 5:32, the pickup is—yep, that’s it, that’s her.”

She grabs the pen and starts scribing. Every few seconds she murmurs an uh-huh or ok.

Behind her, the door to the garage swings open and in comes Lincoln, carrying a brown paper bag and a backpack.

Concern creases his forehead as he approaches, and drops the paper bag on the counter, whispering to Dieter, “What’s going on?”

“Shh.”

Darlene glances up at them, then back at the notebook, and nods, “That’s incredibly helpful, thank you. Appreciate it.”

When she hangs up, she says, “The driver dropped her off at Union Station around 6:30 this morning,” then continues typing in her phone, “From there, she could’ve taken another taxi, or a bus, or a train—”

“She took a bus.”

Lincoln asks, “Who took a bus? Lua?”

They both ignore the question. Darlene blinks up at Dieter, and before she can question him, he shrugs, “Gut feeling.”

“Gut feeling,” she snorts, shaking her head, and tosses her phone in her bag with a sigh, “Well, I’ll drive over there and see if she’s still there. When does your flight leave?”

Dieter looks at Lincoln, who perks up and pulls out his phone, “Let’s see… A car will be here in… fifteen.”

“I’ll call you when I know more, ok?” Darlene says as she pulls her purse up onto her shoulder. She regards Dieter for a second or two before patting him on the shoulder, “We’re gonna find her.”

He doesn’t trust himself to verbalize the uncertainty churning in his guts, so he acknowledges the sentiment with a flaccid smile and a nod, thinking, “I fucking hope so.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, love. I’m, uhh… leaving you an update, I guess. I’m going to New York to sort this shit out, talk to some people, see what I can do. But if you get this somehow, please, baby… please come home. Ok. I love you, bye.”

—

Suspended miles above the Midwest, with Dieter packed in a tin can alongside all the other mouth-breathing sardines, the in-flight WiFi goes out.

He tries watching a movie, but none of the information computes. His mind keeps wandering to you. What you’re doing, where you are, why you didn’t just fucking wake him up and talk to him.

Seconds twist under his skin.

The minutes lodge inside his throat.

The tiny screen could be showing him fucking anything, and his demeanor wouldn’t change a drop.

Tight-lipped. Hostile. Dead-eyed.

That’s what he gleans, anyway, from the way people react to his presence. The downcast glances and wide berths. How the flight attendant doesn’t even try to protest when he requests four mini-bottles of vodka.

Wincing with every swallow, Dieter drinks them and scrolls through his text history with you. It’s not uncommon for him to do this while idly passing the time alone, within the past few months especially.

Re-reading each conversation, admiring the photos and screenshots, allowing himself to daydream about you… usually, he finds it comforting.

This time it’s different.

It’s steeped in the knowledge that he may never receive another message from you.

Flipping his phone face down on the little shitty tray, he looks up at the Q*bert air vent and releases a big sigh. The thoughts of you creep back into his brain. He doesn’t shoo them away, though. It’s fucking pointless.

Please understand that I couldn’t make you choose. That burden shouldn’t rest on you.

A burden.

What a load of shit.

As if he wouldn’t let hellfire lick his bones to dust for one more earthly second with you. As if you don’t revive him every single time your lips meet his. As if he could breathe without you in the atmosphere.

Of fucking course he would choose you.

Over anything, really. Especially acting. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he needs. It’s all just stupid Hollywood bullshit anyway. Being owned by a dozen different people at any point in time. Everyone trying to get their finger in the goddamn pie. He’s tired of being a billboard first and a human second.

The more he thinks about it, the madder he gets. He douses his stomach with vodka, thinking about the fame machine, how it chewed you up and spit you out in no time at all.

He resents the public spotlight. His whole adolescence, he dreamed of having a successful career as an actor. He worked hard and got lucky and his dreams came to life, and now, well… he’s right back where he started.

Watching, helpless and terrified, as the person he loves gets pummeled half to death.

—

Dieter leans on the doorframe and gives apartment 14C three firm knocks.

The blaring music inside cuts. Parker stomps up to the other side of the door, “Who is it?”

“Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?”

A thunk sounds from the deadbolt, then Parker swings the door open, propping a hand on his hip and shaking his head, “Santa Claus? Really?”

His face is fully dragged up in the style of Jackie Lantern, with blue eyeshadow and hot pink lips and harsh contour, while the rest of him is Regular Parker, with sweatpants and a baggy Bikini Kill t-shirt.

“Ho ho ho,” Dieter enters the cozy, dimly lit apartment and pulls him into a one-armed hug, “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” Parker mumbles as he wraps his lanky arms around Dieter and squeezes, “Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me too, bud,” Dieter takes a step back and ventures into what looks like a new-age opium den.

Incense and pot smoke cloud the air. A loom-woven tapestry, depicting a unicorn standing triumphant in a field of wildflowers, takes up almost the entire wall behind a well-worn sofa. On the opposite wall, at least 50 framed bug specimens hang on display.

Between the deep-seated couch and the TV sits a big octagonal coffee table, its glass top all littered with books and water bottles and cannabis paraphernalia.

Dieter, finding none of this surprising, looks around and nods, “Nice place.“

Parker bolts the door closed and turns to scan Dieter up and down, “Nice suit.”

“I hate this fucking thing,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to make more room inside the jacket, then points to Parker’s sweatpants, “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Shade,” Parker scoffs and starts off down the short hallway into his bedroom, “I’ll be ready in a minute, help yourself to whatever.”

“Where do you keep your liquor?”

“On top of the fridge.”

Dieter wanders into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey from its home, then starts flipping through cabinets. When he finds the one with cups, he calls out to Parker, “Want a drink?”

“Lord, please.”

He unscrews the cap and pours two generous servings. Before returning the bottle, he takes a pull off it. The cheap booze burns the whole way down, settling like fire in his belly.

Parker comes stomping back into the room, clawing at the back of his blue sequin gown, “Do me a favor, love, help me zip this?”

Dieter signals for him to spin around, then guides the zipper up his bony back as Parker asks, “Any updates from your neck of the woods?”

He taps on his shoulder, giving him the all clear.

Parker turns and leans back against the galley kitchen’s countertop opposite Dieter, who hands him a drink.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, takes a sip of the shitty whiskey, then explains, “Darlene was able to convince the security team at Union Station to let her review footage from this morning. At 6:30 this morning, Lua boarded a Greyhound bus that dropped her off in Fresno around 11:00. Darlene couldn’t get much over the phone from them, so she’s driving up there to raise hell, see what she can find out.”

The words come out dull and matter-of-fact. Offline, disconnected from the treasure chest labeled LUA.

Parker studies him, “How’re you holding up, papi, you doing ok?”

“No.”

He stares down into his cup and thinks he should probably say something else, but comes up with nothing. It feels both pointless and too painful.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

When he glances up at Parker, and their eyes meet, he recognizes the melancholy there. His own, reflected back at him.

He shifts a little and adds, “After we get this part over with, though, maybe we can… I don’t know, get hammered, cry about it. Drown our sorrows or whatever. If you want.”

The corner of Parker’s hot pink lips turns up in a smirk and he chuckles, “Long as we don’t get arrested doing this stupid ass shit, I will take you up on that.”

“We’re not gonna get arrested, I promise. He’ll take the offer.”

“And how do you know that?”

Dieter could make a reference to The Godfather here, or mention the thick wads of cash lining his Armani suit, but thinks better of it. Probably best he doesn’t know.

Instead, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“You know we wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Then trust me, we’re gonna be fine. Just follow the plan.”

Parker snorts and shakes his head, muttering something about ‘you cryptic ass motherfucker’ into his glass as he takes a sip.

Dieter drinks, too, then tells him, “I like your dress.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, eyes flicking to the clock on the stove, “Fuck, I gotta finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.”

“Can I pick out your hair?”

Parker groans a little, feigning annoyance. He pushes off the counter and starts towards his room, “Fine, but I reserve the right to veto.”

—

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. I’m uhh… in New York, at Parker’s place—”

“Who are you talking to?”

“I’m leaving her a message.”

“Give it, I wanna say something.”

“Just hold on—”

“Hey Miss Lou, I love you, I miss you, and let me tell you, your boy is a goddamn mess. And, um… so am I. I’m worried about you—we’re worried about you. Just… let us know you’re ok, ok?”

“Me again. We’re gonna go fix this. I love you, Louella. Please come home.”

—

Instead of conversing en route to the Metropolitan Opera House, they pass a flask of whiskey back and forth and occasionally sing along to the music on Jackie Lantern’s “PUSSY POWER” playlist.

Although neither of them mention it, Dieter knows they’re essentially doing the same thing. Hyping themselves up. Trying to ban the performance anxiety from their brains as they get into character.

By the time he and Parker arrive at Metropolitan Opera House, the booze has fully assimilated into Dieter’s bloodstream.

Thank fucking god.

It grinds down the coarse edges of reality and allows him to slip effortlessly into a familiar skin.

Dieter Bravo: Washed-up Actor.

Dieter Bravo: Party Monster.

Dieter Bravo: Brazen Jackass.

A carefully curated persona so convincing, it had him fooled for years before you coaxed the real him out of hiding.

That guy, the real him, or whatever the fuck, is not the right man for this job. Too soft. Too emotional. Guy is a pansy, he would fucking cry or make a scene or something.

Seriously.

He has no jurisdiction here.

Here, in this glitzy opera house, among the other black-tie patrons who regard him and Jackie Lantern with a kind of grotesque curiosity that guy couldn’t fucking handle.

But, Dieter Bravo: Attention Whore?

Eating. This. Shit. Up.

“Literal fucking pearl clutching, ho-ly shit,” he murmurs to Jackie’s big, white blonde afro wig as they walk up the red carpeted stairs into the lobby.

It opens up into a huge space that reminds him of a cave.

Brightly-lit, thanks to the starburst chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like stalactites, but a cave all the same. All four stories of shining white marble look to be hollowed out over centuries. Smooth, curved staircases flowing into terraces, filled with hundreds of well-dressed people and the abstract murmur of their conversations.

For the millionth time today, he wishes you were here.

You would be awestruck, gazing around with starry eyes that would make him appreciate its beauty that much more. You would look at him, in that way you do, and everyone else would melt away. You would smile and make those crystal chandeliers look like bare fluorescent bulbs. Put the goddamn place to shame.

“Whaddaya think, sugar? Get a drink?”

He glances up at Jackie over the rim of his sunglasses and tosses his sloshy head back and forth, trying to gauge how drunk he actually is, then shrugs, “Fuck it, why not.”

She leads the way while Dieter follows in her wake, delighting at the number of people who ogle Jackie, with her big hair and her commanding presence and her blue gown, shimmering aqua and cyan and turquoise in the light.

Only a few people seem to notice him trailing behind her. Fewer yet glint any tell-tale signs of recognition. The little upright jolt. The furrowed brow leaping into a surprised expression. The whispered “Is that who I think it is?” to the person beside them. Or, his favorite, the scramble to grab their phone and snap a photo.

They order drinks and find a tall table in the corner to lean against. From this vantage point, they survey the crowd for their subjects.

“How much does your man know?”

“My man,” Jackie mutters to herself with a little scoff, glancing down at her martini, “He’s not my man. I’m just a rental.”

Dieter peels his eyes away from the crowd to look at her, “A rental?”

“Not good enough to invest in long-term.”

His head rocks back in understanding, and he frowns, “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Off and on for two years.”

As she says this, she looks up, flicking her eyes around the room. Then she zeroes in on something. Her posture perks to attention. That little glint of recognition.

Dieter follows her gaze to what can only be described as the most average looking white man in Manhattan. Dusty blonde hair, athletic build, black suit.

He would’ve completely overlooked the guy if not for the precision of Jackie’s stare.

Well, that and the fact that you’ve gone on your fair share of angry rants about the man, which involved you showing Dieter his Instagram. This is how he also recognizes the mousy woman standing at his side.

“He brought his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you two me—”

“Nope.”

The sullen aura radiating off her makes Dieter tick his jaw back and forth. He looks between her and Reese, then asks, “Does he know the plan?”

“Kind of,” she shrugs, “Bare bones, enough to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Uh huh. How did Reese know about Mr. Lindorm’s uhhh…”

He scrunches his face up and turns his wrist around, trying to find the right word.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, “Proclivities?”

“I was gonna say fetish, but sure.”

She lands a playful smack on his arm, then sighs, “Sometimes it’s best I don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask don’t tell, good policy.”

This earns him a side-eye with very little humor attached. Sore spot. Fuck.

“Look,” he leans harder on the table, “All I’m saying is you could do better. No doubt about it. You uhh… I don’t know. You deserve someone who loves you so much, they would pluck the stars from the sky and craft them into a crown for you. Not someone who keeps you a secret.”

“Craft them into a—?” She blinks at him, “Ok, papi, what the fuck’re you talking about?”

He tries to formulate an answer, to figure out where the fuck that came from, but admits, “Fuck if I know.”

“I’m cutting you off.”

“I am not that drunk.”

“Better not be, cuz it’s fuckin’ showtime. Here they come.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He looks to the source, flicking his gaze up and down Reese’s neat tuxedo.

Reese extends his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m Senator Reese Bernard—”

“I don’t endorse political campaigns, sorry.”

He starts to turn back to Jackie, who mirrors the action, then Reese, right on cue, says, “Oh, no. Nothing like that, I’m just a big fan. Could I buy you and your um,” his eyes shift to Jackie, “Companion a drink? Maybe pick your brain for a bit?”

Dieter finds himself slightly surprised with Reese’s acting ability. That is, until he remembers the man acts every single day of his life. He raises his eyebrows in question at Jackie, who holds his gaze and shrugs, “Fine by me.”

“Alright, yeah.”

A boyish grin spreads across Reese’s face, then he turns to the little mouse of a woman behind him and murmurs something to her, jerking his head towards the bar.

She nods and walks off as Reese joins their table, glancing between Dieter and Jackie, “Well, this is certainly a way to shake things up at the opera, huh? Kind of exciting,” he settles his gaze on Jackie, giving her a charming smile, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, love,” she tilts her head at him, batting her lashes.

The way they look at each other, all goo-goo eyes, inspires Dieter to finish his drink. When he slams the empty glass down on the table, they both jump, snapping out of their nauseating little bubble.

“When’s our guy supposed to be here?”

“Ahhhh,” Reese frowns at his watch, then starts searching the lobby, “Should already be around somewhere. We always meet him and the missus over here for a drink before the show.”

“You guys do this often?”

He shrugs, “Every couple of weeks or so. Not really my cup of tea, or his even, but the gals love it.”

“Cute,” Dieter mutters.

Jackie shoots him a look, then asks Reese, “Do you really think this is gonna work?”

“Oh, definitely, definitely. The guy is smart when it comes to law, but thinks with his dick when it comes to most everything else,” he smirks at her, “And you’re just his type.”

In response, Dieter grunts and searches the room. His head feels weighted, brain sloshing around in the sea of alcohol he consumed throughout the day.

Maybe he should switch to water for a while, slow down this freight train.

Or maybe we should go in a different direction. Try to get a hold of something that will straighten us out.

This thought overrides his entire body, blaring and hot and uncomfortable in his veins, and he wonders if that’s why it’s called an impulse.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better?

His leg starts to bounce. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that he promised you he wouldn’t use cocaine again. Reminds himself of what you said in return:

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Your voice in his head makes his heart flutter, while the content of your statement sits heavy in his stomach, warring with that concentrated dose of urgency buzzing through him.

“There he is,” Jackie murmurs into her wine glass, “Over by the stairs.”

Jerking to attention like he fell asleep at the wheel, Dieter follows her laser-focused gaze to a distinguished salt-and-pepper man posing for a photo with a tall blonde woman.

The way they stand next to each other, all rigid and precise, their perfect, practiced smiles spread wide beneath dead eyes… it strikes him as familiar.

Middle-aged Barbie and Ken.

A fair comparison, although she looks closer to 20 than 40. Either that or she has a stellar plastic surgeon.

There’s something else, though.

It’s in the way they take a big step apart when the photographer gets his shot. How they seem to be bickering at each other out the side of their faces between fake smiles.

Anika and Dieter.

He studies them with a morbid kind of curiosity, wondering if that’s what they would have eventually been like if they tried to make it work. If, almost a year ago, he would’ve gone home to her instead of boarding that plane to New York.

They would’ve fought about it. Maybe they would’ve cried and had make-up sex. He probably would’ve gone to rehab, and couples counseling, and, hell, maybe they would’ve had a kid or something. Things would’ve felt real and good with her for a while.

But it would have faded.

After a while, he would have strayed again. He would have started getting high and fucking around all the time. He knows this like he knows you’re alive, like he just knows things, certain and right at the very core of him: He never would have found peace until he found you.

Instinctually, he wants to say you changed him, that you made him want to be a better man. But it dawns on him, with stunning clarity, that you didn’t. You didn’t change him any more than an astronomer changes the universe when they discover a star.

Which is to say, darling, that you just brought him into focus so he could see himself for who he really is.

Anything else would have been a plastic, miserable cohabitation.

As this sinks in, that hungry buzzing in his chest wanes. He understands that he can’t break his promise to you. More aptly, he won’t, because he’s not that man anymore.

—

Sometimes things go sideways.

For instance, sometimes the love of your life thinks that disappearing is the best solution to both save your career and evade a second felony.

Sometimes, though… the universe aligns in your favor, and a plan goes off better than you ever could have imaged.

Sometimes your girlfriend’s best friend’s boyfriend’s wife, who Dieter eventually learns is named Rachel, runs into her friends, Mr. and Mrs. District Attorney, on her way back from the bar and invites them to join your table.

They introduce themselves as John and—no fucking joke—Barbara Lindorm. Just as Reese predicted, John is captivated by Jackie the second he lays eyes on her. He occupies the open space next to her and laughs at her jokes, frequently splitting off into quiet little side conversations, where Dieter hears him ask where she’s from, what she does for a living, and whether she and Dieter are dating—which is great news, because it means he has not placed him as Dieter Bravo: Louella Friedman’s Meddlesome Boyfriend.

If Barbara notices her husband flirting, she doesn’t let it show. Dieter surmises it’s because he’s doing a bit of flirting himself, letting his gaze linger on her longer than appropriate, complimenting her dress, her hair, her nails. Not because he’s interested or anything, but rather to provide a bit of a distraction while Jackie reels in her husband.

It’s a little fucked up, sure, but you’d understand. Think big picture, baby. The greater good or whatever.

At one point, he sees Jackie pull out her phone and tell John, “Oh, I have to show you this picture from my last show, you’ll love this.”

This is the move. The part where she shows him a typed out message telling him to follow her at intermission.

Dieter calls attention to the other side of the table, asking Reese, “So, what, do you guys have regular seats or something? Since you come here so often.”

Reese sees the setup and nods, “Oh, definitely. A box, actually, they’re great seats—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, slamming his palms down on the table, “Hold on, I’m getting a crazy idea. The other couple we usually come here with dropped out at the last minute. Do you two want their seats?”

Dieter glances over at Barbara, meeting her demure gaze, while he hears John murmur to Jackie, “You’re right, I do love that.”

“Why the hell not,” he licks his lips and shrugs, departing from Barbara’s eyes to meet Reese’s, “Let’s keep this party rolling.”

Reese grins, “Fantastic! Ok, do you guys wanna go now, or…?”

The lights wax and wane in brightness a few times, signaling curtain call, and Dieter smirks, “Lead the way.”

—

While waiting for the gilded curtains to part, Dieter flips through the program for Ariadne auf Naxos, tuning out the meaningless chit chat taking place around him.

He skims the synopsis provided, mostly just trying to look busy. One sentence catches his attention.

Ariadne is alone in front of her cave.

He tilts his head at it, lingering for a moment before resuming the skim. His eyes snag on the words stars vanish, then backtrack to the beginning of the sentence.

Entranced by Ariadne’s beauty, Bacchus tells her that he would sooner see the stars vanish than give her up.

Like he did with the last line, Dieter stares at it, slightly stunned. He shifts in his seat, glancing around before leaning over the program to re-read the opera’s synopsis from the beginning.

The passage briefly recounts the story of Ariadne, who assisted Thesus in escaping a labyrinth because she loved him. They were betrothed, and Ariadne left her family to be with him. On the trip home, Thesus abandoned her on a remote island while she was sleeping.

Ariadne woke and found herself alone on the beach. Heartbroken, she longed to die. When Bacchus arrived on the island, Ariadne first thought he was the messenger of death, then mistook him for Thesus. Bacchus explained that he was neither, he was a god. They fell in love and rose into the heavens.

Dieter sits back in his seat and fidgets, trying to find comfort despite this goddamn suit jacket, all stiff and tight with wads of cash. Despite the painful parallels his mind keeps drawing.

You are fucking everywhere.

The opera. The crystal galaxy chandeliers that hang from what looks like a bright white tunnel into the afterlife. The scalloped ceiling, backlit with a warm, golden light, reminding him of goldfish scales.

Are they signs or is he just losing his fucking mind?

“Probably both,” he mutters to himself.

Jackie looks up from her program at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

He shakes his head, nervously tugging at the whiskers that sprout from his jawline.

Before she can prod him further, the chandeliers float up into the white abyss and all of the lights dim, then the curtains part.

—

As soon as intermission starts, Jackie is on her feet.

John waits one cool second before excusing himself and following her into the hall. Reese hears this and turns around in his seat, asking Barbara how she likes the show so far. As she leans forward and begins to answer him, Reese locks eyes with Dieter and gives him a wink of approval.

Dieter nods and rises to his feet, then slips into the hall, weaving his way through the crowd.

See, when Jackie used to work catering gigs here, she got to know a member of the opera house staff who showed her a few private rooms that aren’t necessarily secret, but aren’t exactly advertised, either. They’re reserved for VIPs, when they want them, but mostly remain unoccupied during performances.

He follows the path Jackie mapped out for him earlier today to an unlabeled door on level three. Inside, he hears a familiar giggle and knows it’s the right one.

He pats down his suit jacket with both hands, double checking that he didn’t somehow drop all his money en route, then grabs the doorknob, twists it, and pushes the door open to reveal the smallest Victorian parlor he’s ever seen in his life.

It contains an antique sofa, a coffee table, and an armchair in the corner, and still feels cramped. The back wall is entirely occupied by a mirror. Probably an attempt to make the room look bigger.

On the ornate red sofa, Miss Jackie Lantern and Mister District Attorney are so busy making out, neither of them seem to notice his presence.

Dieter makes a point of closing the door with a loud bang. John jumps up and starts scrambling away from Jackie, his face all covered in hot pink lipstick, stammering out clichés, “I can explain, this isn’t what it looks like—”

“Save it, that’s not what this is,” Dieter waves him off as he approaches the couch, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

“What is this, then?” he looks from Dieter, who shucks off his jacket and sits down beside him, to Jackie, “A three way?”

Jackie sticks out her bottom lip in a sympathetic manner, shaking her head.

“This is an opportunity.”

John turns to him, narrowing his eyes, “Explain.”

“Well, see,” Dieter tosses his jacket on the coffee table, “I’m going to give you a stupid amount of money, I mean—really, truly, a fucking obscene amount of money. In return, you’ll drop the charges against Louella Friedman.”

He studies Dieter carefully.

“You and I both know that warrant was bullshit. Based on witness statements obtained by fucking paps, really?” Dieter clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head, “That man is a gossip monger with a grudge. Zero fucking credibility. It wouldn’t hold up in court. It would be a waste of everyone’s time and money. This is an opportunity to cut through the red tape and get a little something for yourself in return.”

John sits back, crossing his arms. He frowns at the jacket for a while, seemingly running calculations in his head, then asks, “How much?”

“Hundred thousand.”

His eyebrows make a surprised jump. He presses his knuckles to his lips, considering this. His leg starts bouncing. He looks between Dieter and Jackie, these quick, sharp glares, “I don’t appreciate being set up like this.”

Dieter nods in acknowledgment. Jackie just blinks at him.

He releases a big sigh.

Sitting up, he grabs the jacket and digs into one of the pockets, then pulls out a few $10,000 bundles.

As he inspects them, Dieter asks, “Well?”

“You two are good,” John chuckles, then extends his hand to Dieter, “I’ll look into her case for you, see what we can do.”

He takes it, giving him an overly enthusiastic shake, “Good man. Thank you.”

“Louella Friedman?”

“That’s right. I, uhhh—I put her info in the front pocket.”

“Got it.”

Dieter stands and looks at Jackie, nodding to the door.

“Thanks, Johnny,” she winks, then rises to her feet and starts towards the door.

“Thank you, Jackie,” he grins at her for a second before returning to Dieter, “And thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Dieter pulls up the sleeves on his dress shirt, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

John laughs at this, so Dieter feels compelled to clarify, “No, but really, the IRS might start asking questions if you do. So—don’t, ok?”

“Oh, well, yeah—”

Dieter turns on his heel and follows Jackie out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Johnny?” he raises an eyebrow at her as they walk away.

“He’s kinda cute. Good kisser.”

“Thinking about adding him to your roster?”

She snorts and gives him a playful shove, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

—

Within thirty seconds of entering the apartment, Jackie has locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running.

Dieter collapses on the couch and slowly dismantles the remains of his suit, unknotting the bow-tie, taking off his dress shirt, wriggling out of his pants, until he’s left in boxers and an undershirt.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, drains any remaining adrenaline from this evening’s success from his limbs.

Figuring it will take a while for the de-Jackiefication to take place in the bathroom, he checks his phone for updates, then decides to call and leave you a message before letting sleep take over.

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.”

“Hey, doll, it’s me. It is… just after midnight here in New York. Just wanted to let you know, I talked to the DA. He’s dropping the charges, because they’re bullshit, and uhhh… yeah. You can come out now, if you want. I… I miss you. All day I missed you. I wish you were here, and—listen, Lua, I get what you’re doing. You think you’re saving me or something by disappearing, but let me tell you, you are fucking not. Ok? I don’t think you understand… you save me every single day. Just by loving me. The acting, publicity, fucking—whatever, none of that fucking matters to me. I swear to god. You are—you are it for me. The end all be all. My sun, my moon, the stars, you are my whole fucking universe. You are… everything to me, Louella. I love you. I hope I see you soon.”

[ Next Chapter ]

#psychomanteum #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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shuadotcom · 1 year

Text

Irresistible | KMG (M)

Summary: You love Mingyu's hands and arms, especially when he holds you and touches you in the most sinful way.

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab!Reader

Genres & AUs: Smut, pwp, established relationship au

Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

Warnings: Fingering, a little dirty talk, body worship? (mc is in love with Mingyu’s hands and arms), public sex, outdoor sex (they’re in the woods 0/10 would recommend), pet names (sweetheart, baby)

Words: 1.2k

Note: A little drabble thingy I wrote in a few hours for Mingyu’s birthday! It’s not beta’d so please don’t tell me about the typos bc I’ll probably find them in like 6 months when I decide to randomly reread it lol. It’s also my first time writing a fic completely on mobile and posting on the app (very annoying btw 😒). I also have a different Gyu fic that I finished that I want to get beta’d before I post - hopefully in the next day or so! It’s a little fluff moment though and not like whatever this horny shit is lol.

Net tag: @kflixnet

Mingyu’s hands are one of your favorite things about him (and yes it’s a very extensive list). His hands are so pretty and always so warm. The pads of his fingers are calloused in the best way but also always so soft.

He’s an expert at holding your hands and loves linking his fingers through yours and rubbing circles into your skin. You love watching him use his hands. Whether it’s when he cooks and you admire the skilled way he handles knives and chopsticks, or when he’s typing on his computer or phone and you watch how his nimble fingers glide over the keyboard and screen.

You love when he’s gripping something, especially something heavy, and you get to see the veins under the skin of his hands bulge, muscles stretching and flexing, reminiscent of pathways on a map; a map that trails all the way up his forearms to his biceps. His bulky, sculpted, wonderful biceps.

Those are a favorite of yours too.

You know he truly puts in the work to make them as big and defined as they are and you appreciate the hell out of him for it. You appreciate how safe and sound you always feel when he traps you in those arms in a hug, holding you like the most precious piece of glass. The limbs are so sturdy, so easy to naturally grab onto when you’re out in the world, relishing in the jealous looks people give you because you’re the one clinging to him, digging your nails lightly into the arms of the Greek god you get to call your boyfriend. If it was up to you, Mingyu would wear nothing but sleeveless shirts and tank tops.

Just like the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing today. It’s black and soft between your fingers as you cling to it like a lifeline. His hands you obsess over so much are doing another thing you love - grabbing at your sweaty, bare skin.

His right-hand grips the leg you’ve thrown around his waist, helping to keep you upright and keep you balanced. His left hand is covered in your sticky wetness as he drags his index finger in and out of your eager cunt.

The bark of the oak tree you’re pressed against digs into your back through your shirt and your jeans are dangerously close to falling off the leg that dangles in his hold, but you barely register it as Mingyu’s finger brushes your g-spot.

“Fuck! Gyu…”

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

Your bottom lip, already red and raw from how hard he kissed you earlier and how much you’ve been gnawing at it, is between your teeth again and you nod in response.

You’ve lost count of how long he’s been teasing you and drawing out this pleasure. It’s been at least fifteen minutes maybe. Definitely too long to be doing this behind a cluster of trees in the park in the middle of the day while your friends wait for you a few feet away.

“I can’t help it, you look so fucking good,” he grumbled into your ear as he crowded you against a tree.

“I’m wearing such a normal outfit!” You giggled, but it was short-lived when he attached his lips to your neck and began sucking on the skin.

“That’s how much you drive me crazy. You’re fucking irresistible.”

“B-but we’re supposed to be getting th-the drinks from the car.” You could barely get the sentence out as Mingyu’s wide hand reached up, grabbing a handful of one of your breasts through your shirt.

“The drinks can wait. Wanna make you cum first.”

He had said that what seems like forever ago, and he’s been doing the exact opposite. Mingyu alternates between lazily rubbing at your clit with his thumb and fucking you with one finger, bringing you so close but not giving you enough to tip you over the edge.

“Gyu, please,” you breathe out, holding in a moan that wants so badly to tumble out. Your ears pick up the sounds all around you - the sound of voices, the rustling of the trees, a dog barking in the distance, and the obscene squelching of your juices as Mingyu shoves a second thick finger into you.

“Hmm, I suppose I should let you cum. People may come looking for us.” He’s almost noncommittal with his words, still only fingering you with minimal effort.

“Please, please, please,” you babble as your fingers grab at his shirt so hard that you’re sure it’ll be wrinkled once you’re done.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please, let me cum, Gyu, please!” You’re desperate and punctuate your whimpers with open mouth kisses on his chiseled jaw.

Your boyfriend gives you a devious smirk and you can nearly hear the gears in his head turning, deciding if he wants to keep teasing you or not. Mingyu seems to take pity on you though as he readjusts your leg around him, hiking it higher. Your eyes rake over the prominent veins in his biceps, the skin looking as smooth and tan as always.

Then he’s drawing his other arm back and starts thrusting his fingers into you so quickly it takes your breath away. Your hands fly to his shoulders, grasping onto him for dear life as Mingyu pistons his fingers in and out, curling the tips perfectly.

“Ohhh fuck, like that, fuck!” The words leave your mouth in between more moans of his name, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach.

“Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Gonna let go for me right here with all these people around?”

A mix of words that you can’t understand comes out of you. He adds a third finger at some point, making your eyes roll back at the delicious burn of the stretch. Mingyu’s thumb rubs against your clit roughly, the pressure being exactly what you need.

He knows you so well and always knows when you’re about to release, so Mingyu brings his mouth to yours, capturing your lips and sticking his tongue into your mouth as you reach your peak. He swallows up your cries of his name as your body shakes in his hold, the tree bark scratching against your exposed skin where your shirt has risen up your back.

Your lips stay locked as you messily make out with him, his digits slowing down to let you ride out the rest of your orgasm.

Eventually, he pulls away and you let out puffs of air that turn into whines of protest when the stimulation from his fingers becomes too much.

Mingyu eases his fingers out of you and holds your gaze as he pops them into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean and groans.

“So sweet. My favorite flavor.” If your skin wasn’t already ablaze, you know you’d be burning up due to his little show.

Mingyu gently lowers your leg and leans down to help you steady your weak body. He gingerly lifts your leg to put it back through your underwear and jeans, even wiggling the denim up your legs and fastening the button for you.

He brings his right hand up, brushing some of your sweaty hair back and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Now, let’s go get those drinks!” He flashes you his signature wide, puppy smile before lacing his perfect fingers with yours and carrying on with your original goal as if he hadn’t just had those same fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy.

Not that you’re mad about it of course.

#kflixnet #wkcnet #thekpopuniverse #kbookshelf #kvanity #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic

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babybluebex · 1 year

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ok so i tried to post this last week but i posted it on mobile and it got all fucked up bc tumblr mobile sucks, so let me try this again: tom grant being ready to defend you at the drop of a hat

it's been a long week at the resort park, guests making a fuss over nothing and making your job (and life, frankly) a living hell. the only reprieve is your boyfriend, tom— coming home to him is a breath of fresh air, and his smile when he sees you warms your heart.

he knows you've been having a rough few days, so he offers to treat you to a night out, a few drinks and a night away from those guests. he tells you to dress up real pretty so he can take pictures, maybe that black dress that you wore to your anniversary dinner? it's a little short, but that's ok; you know that tom would just give you his jacket if you get cold. tom would probably give you his jacket anyway, even though he's the one who recommended the dress— the man gets jealous rather easily.

and that's put to the test that night at the pub. it's a small seaside pub, nothing but out-of-towners and the occasional cornish customer, and tom helps you up onto the barstool with a gentle hand. he orders a pint and mumbles something about going to the loo, and he buries a kiss in your hair before he goes. your pints arrive while he's gone, and you sip at yours as you scroll at your phone.

and then: "you ain't from around here, huh?"

you look over. a guy, muscled, some sort of tourist, undoubtedly looking for something to occupy his night. not your type. he was talking to you, and you sigh.

"yeah, i am," you say politely, instead of ignoring him. tom will be back any second to save you . "i work at the resort park a few minutes away."

"but you ain't from cornwall, huh?"

you sigh. "no," you say. "But my boyfriend is."

"i don't see any boyfriend" the guy says.

"he's off at the loo" you tell him. "and he's the jealous type, so it's probably best if you leave me alone before he sees you."

"what if i wanna talk to you, though?" the guy asks, and you sneer.

"i'd rather not" you say. "thanks, but no"

"well, alright" the guy says. "don't gotta be a bitch about it. you're dressed like a slag, wouldn't want the likes of ya anyway."

"oi" you hear tom say, and you look over your shoulder to see him. his cheeks are red with anger, and you silently giggle at him. oh tommy, like a wiley little stray dog, always ready for a fight. "whatchu say 'bout my bird?"

"this is the boyfriend?" the guy asks "doesn't look like much to me"

"watch it" tom says, taking a step forward. "how 'bout you step off, mate, 'fore i do something you won't like?"

"'step off'? s'it the 90s?" the guy laughs, and you hold back your laughter. later, you'd tell tom that that did sound sorta ridiculous, but now wasn't the time. "don't want her anyway, she's all yours"

"right, s'why you even talked to her in the first place, cos you didn't want her" tom said. "piss off"

you smile all watery at tom as he gets up onto his barstool and sips at his pint, and he sorta grunts "what?"

"my hero" you coo and kiss his cheek and, when you look at him again, his cheeks are a different sort of red and his eyes have hearts in them. "defending me from some creep"

"s'all in a day's work" tom mumbles, and you smile. "what? m'i supposed to just let him call you a slag and get away with it?"

"you're so cute" you tell him. "your accent got all thick and you started talking all funny. you're adorable"

"oh, stop" tom says, and you kiss him again.

"never"

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #makeup 2019 #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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dont-eat-lint-rollers · 4 months

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my buddy convinced me to make an animal jam play wild account since it actually still gets proper updates and so far my feelings have been. mixed. overall i havent done nearly as much as anyone else bc my account has existed for maybeee 2 or 3 hours? so this is just my first impressions. im also kinda biased bc ive been playing animal jam classic for years and years and YEARS. back when 9 + 10 = 21 was still unironically funny and every cool kid in class read warriors. might update this post with extra thoughts as i go along! all opinions below the cut bc this is an absurdly long post

ive only played a few levels of overflow (and it might be because i played on expert because i Definitely have no overbearing hubris casting a shadow upon my better judgement) but the gem payout being higher than AJC for each level you complete is a very welcome change (2 gems times X number, seemingly determined by how long your path is, vs AJPWs i think it was like 5 gems times X number determined by how long your path is? either that or like 10. idk i blew a whole half hour on overflow alone and it was almost 6 AM by the time i finished so my brains kinda muddled)

also, membership has become far less of an overbearing nightmare monster for AJPW in comparison to AJC! thats a good thing! personally i think that membership just Shouldn't but thats because i think any monetarily-accessed subscription anythings just Shouldn't especially in this day and age. i got to go to the clothing store and buy things i liked and i didnt just have to longingly stare at the paywalled options like a maiden gazing out to sea and it felt great

dont like how theres so many fewer options for shopping for Like Everything but its a far more ambitious game than AJC what with everything being 3d modeled, and its got a younger target demo and theyre usually happy with whatever looks cool, so it checks out. haha. funny pun that was intended definitely. whats there is also pretty great and the den item options you get started off with are both way more cool and way more More than classic in its hayday. idk about the ajc starting den items now though i dug my old account from the ashes of who i once was when i decided to pick classic up again. i dont actually remember if you start with any den items in ajc now that i think about it i might be misremembering. that still means play wild has that point against classic though. shame theres no water animals but they could maybe possibly be added in an update pretty please wildworks if by some miracle youre reading this i am begging and pleadi

really my main issue so far is with how many things cost real-world money. theres next to nothing that requires a membership to even be bought aside from one members-only map location my buddy warned me about beforehand -- which, as a reluctant f2p since literally like 5th grade, ive been playing this game for Far too long, i do genuinely appreciate -- but boy oh boy you can sure tell this was mainly developed as a mobile game. there is so much pay-real-money-for-trinkets stuff and you just Cannot disable that menu. at least let me get rid of the little button that tells me i can spend the hard-earned bucks on moms credit card to get 1/4th the amount of animals of AJC man thats all i ask of this part

also this is largely unrelated but can i just say i DESPISE how many things are like "hi heres a welcome bonus :) oh but you need to pay like 3 bucks for it. yeah its usually 5 but for a Special New Player Like You? its a steal!" like thats not a welcome bonus thats an entry fee. i know thats like a paltry amount of money compared to most things Just Ever but its also coming from a guy whos family usually has zero money to spare

#champ talks #animal jam #animal jam classic #animal jam play wild #wildworks #aj classic #ajc #aj play wild #ajpw #im the worlds number 1 overflow fan btw can you tell

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pepprs · 1 year

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haven’t done these in a long while bc i stopped playing wobbledogs for like a month and a half but here are some of my favorite dogs i made this weekend!

this is suzie (brown body and yellow / pink head) and nip (yellow body and green heads) and they are besties who are also in love! suzie turned pink in adulthood bc she is blushing hehe :D suzie is descended from cub (a dog in one of my last posts) and idk who nip came from but i love him. one time suzie was flipped upside down on her back like a turtle and nip came over to try to turn her right side up again! they stuck very very close together all thru their lives which was very cute bc ive never seen dogs bond like that before!

this is ralphy and he is perpetually angry (antagonistic, unpettable, and food averse 😍👍). i forget what it was exactly that pissed him off (i think he like tripped over a piece of food or something as a puppy?) but he was angry literally for the rest of his life and nothing i did calmed him down. i tried praising him, scolding him, giving him toys, making him do commands, making him watch tv, mutating him, putting him in a zero gravity room… nothing. i ended up just storing him bc he was starting to make ME angry but i do appreciate his determination lol

this is shnitzel and as you can see they lived a very hard life. i don’t have any good pics of them unglitched but they were stuck in this deeply disturbing fold for much of their life bc they had two heads that were way bigger than their body which was a lot shorter and smaller than them. i ended up storing them and then bringing them out into a zero gravity room so that they would never glitch again but sadly they lived the rest of their life in isolation 😞

this is oinge!! i just really like how it looks hehe… its biggest accomplishment in life was being a very good digger after a lot of dogs who just didn’t care abt digging at all — it created some dens and also unearthed some seeds and toys!

this is chug jug (named while i was singing chug jug with you w the background music of the game while creating him lol). chug jug was pretty normal throughout his youth but when he became an adult his final mutation included becoming a deeply cursed and depraved individual. his head kept twisting on his neck (see pictured). he kept deliberately walking into walls. and worst of all… i opened the game to see him appearing to h*mp another dog. SICK and twisted.

MEET VICTORY ROYALE (who i mentioned previously bc IT WAS BC OF THEM that i got the one winged angel achievement thereby beating the game!!!!)! i also named them while singing chug jug with you and just casually trying to create a ratboy genius looking dog for the hell of it without attempting to get that achievement and when i saw victory royale my jaw genuinely dropped. fun fact they actually DO have two wings but both of them are on the same side (bc they have the double wings mutation) which is rly cool bc i was wondering if dogs like that still give u the achievement and it turns out to be true! victory royale didn’t have a very notable life but they started a trend and im excited to see their future descendants :~D

say hi to queeky!!! they’re my first dog w unsynced ears and i find them so endearing. i liked her coloring in her youth better (she was brown with a darker green body) but the magenta looks cool on them too! i wish i could add more pics on mobile i got such a cool photo from when she was a puppy of their double tail wrapped around their body w one tail on either side

AND FINALLY…. THE GIRL EVER…. MEET FAIRYBREAD!!!!! i am OBSESSED w this girl though i do wish her eyes had been a different shape and her colors hadn’t gotten so saturated as an adult… oh well. she is very cool and i love her :~D

#purrs #wobbledogs #i also completely revamped almost all of my rooms! i’ll try to post abt them later but they’re not rly done yet so for now you just get to #peek at them in the screenshots lol. i love this game and i can’t wait for the switch release 🤩

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

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⚞Aquarious Appreciation Askn't💀♒⚟™ (Shift 3)

Hello once again, Aqua. Aside from the usual love and appreciation, i wanded to actually ask you something.

Revolutionary, i know, but: how did you come up with your pfp? I'm curious.

Anyways, see you on Wednesday.

-Chief

CHIEF!

Aw SHUCKS-

I feel so ✨️💔😚☺️🤭🙈🙈🙈❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💖🥰🥰💝💓💕❣️💗😍😍💞❤️‍🩹✨️ WARM AND GOOEY LIKE A CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE WHEN SMONE ASKS ABT THE BLOG/NON-WRITING STUFF

like geeeezzz, u dont have to do all that for meee 😳😳 (–///// ^ /////–) ♡

LIKE GIVE MY CHEEKS A BREAK

So at first it was just cutie Aether bc i wanted ppl to just be blessed by cutie Aether just peeking over at you like

"hey, its me, babygirl aether. just checkin in, i made another post, arent i cute? whatcha doin over there? ♡"

But then we had an aesthetic overhaul this week bc my desktop was UNREADABLE, scroll a few posts down/non genshin writings

Bc someone was nice enough to tell me the issue (and bc im on mobile most of the time/even my laptop just shows my mobile site)

I didnt realize it was that bad- 💀

So Aether rlly started to stand out by the time everything else darkened down

So i was gonna edit him just pure Black and white at first, but then i was like, u know

Hes so blonde and his hair is glowing already, and my accent/only color now is yellow, plus

I think we all tend to see each others PFPs as how we all "look" to each other, and i thought itd be badass to be an all grayed out character, and it tied into the theme of "dead aquarius" like thats what my theme is

A dying star/dead constellation vibes-

(Reminds me too of Gaster's Followers from Undertale if u know what im talking abt)

So yeah, TLDR

he needed to fit in more,

I wanna be able to have a cool persona to draw

I gotta fit the theme of "dead aquarius" and nothing screamed "im a dying star" than that edit ver. I made of Aether, at least to me,

Oh! One last thing, sorry I ramble u prob didnt need all this-

I thought it was too late/didnt wanna lose anybody if my pfp changed content (NOT aether peeking over) and then they dont recognize me!

Thanks for asking.. 🥺 👉👈

ALSO THIS IS TOO MANY SHIFTS, UR WORKING OVER UR PART TIME HOURS EMPLOYEE-

☆

Safe Travels Chief,

💀♒️

#aquarius' sweet asker squad #aquarius' staff #Chief of sweetness #writing blog things #writing blog #my replies #aquarius lore??#yes my persona does have some lore actually #more than this #aquarius lore

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boypussydilf · 2 years

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katsuya and tatsuya for the relationships game rightnow. brothers time

i was gonna save this one for tmr but i probably wont fall asleep for a while anyway so lets GO BROTHERS time. its kind of hard to tell in mobile post editor but i think this post got kinda long so the suou brothers go Under The Cut

describe their canon relationship/dynamic

well for one thing they are brothers. this is not a strong start maybe i should’ve waited until after i got some sleep. ill get there.

tatsuya is so fucking pissed at his entire family all the time and actively avoids all of them i dont actually remember the reason hes upset with katsuya specifically now. but he is. hes like, That cunt. i think its not for any particular defined reason or action and just a consequence of Complicated Family Relationship

katsuya is so worried about his little brother all the time and just wants him to be, like, safe, and not blatantly in need of some kind of counseling. hejust does not really know how to show how much he cares and the way he does from tatsuyas perspective jusr comes across as like. overly strict. but katsuya is trying so hard to look out for him.

we dont know much abt what their relationship was like Before their dad got framed except for that katsuya was the one taking him to the like. summer festivals. like when tatsuya met the other kids and stuff. we dont get to see any of that in the flashbacks, which like, is bc katsuya isnt Relevant in IS, but. i want to see them baby mode. anyway point is they used to just hang out before Shit Happened

your ideal/headcanon version of it? how does it differ from how it is in canon & why is this your favorite version? any other alternate versions of it you enjoy?

i like them specifically for exactly how they are in canon i would change nothing i think. like yeah this is it babey

what do you like about their relationship, why is it interesting or enjoyable to you?

me when complicated family relationships. me when people care about each other but don’t know how to show it or also have so much conflict between them that they can’t. me when the innocent sin cast walks into the police station for the first time ans tatsuya and katsuya just have Family Drama in the middle of the building while all the other characters jusr watch and then decide not to say anything about it

what about the individual characters involved? what does this relationship mean to them, what makes it unique among their relationships?

like all sibling relationships its. This Can Only Exist The Way It Does Because They Are Siblings. but like aside from “theyre brothers” i cant think of a really stand out element about it. like tatsuya tries to avoid Most People and him avoiding his brother is not significantly different. the way they treat each other is, like, almost the same way they would for any other person they met who was similar, just, with a lot of History behind it so there’s different Context.

favorite interaction they have in canon

the scene where katsuyas shadow tries to get him to talk abt how much he hates tatsuya and katsuyas like Actually yeah. I do resent my brother and my family because i gave up my dreams for them. BUT I DID THAT BECAUSE I LOVE THEM FUCK YOU !!!!!

Also the bit at like the veeeeery end of eternal punishment where theyre hanging out on the beach and i dont remember the actual conversation they have at ALL, i just remember tatsuya lighting katsuyas cigarette for him and its like. Brothers are healing

favorite interaction they have in your head/a situation you want to put them in

I WANT TO SEE THEM POST-EP SO BAD. BOTH FOR THE POTENTIAL BEGINNINGS OF REPAIR TO THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND ALSO FOR KATSUYAS CRINGEFAIL ATTEMPTS TO EXPLAIN WHY TATSUYA JUST HAS A MISSING WEEK OF HIS LIFE. I want to see them start to get along again and I also want to see tatsuya go Why . is he being so suspicious. what the FUCK happened

#in summary: omg them #basilask

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fullsupersoniccircle · 2 years

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okay so, i’m closing in on finishing my current sonadow fanfic!! here it is in case anyone’s interested, i tag as thoroughly as i can so hopefully that’ll be enough for y’all to come to your own conclusions about going through with reading!

this post isn’t about the chapter that got linked above, that will be the first chapter, it’s about the most recent one i posted in which a baby shower occurs!! i rly wanted to elaborate on the gifts and that’ll all be below the readmore!

so for starters: i did NOT think the Babylon Rogues would appear at this point, i was more planning for the final chapter but i needed just a little more to happen in this one and here we are lmao. for those who may not be familiar this is what Wave gave to Sonic

i had nothing i was really going off of for the stroller Tails created other than him engineering the wazoo out of it, but shout out to Napstashook for bringing up the idea of a mobile in a comment! while it may not have been created by Eggman since i’ve had what he actually gifts planned since the beginning, your comment absolutely inspired me to have Tails gifting it bcs the idea of it was so cute!

a headcanon i have for Knuckles is that he has a couple different hobbies to pass the time while guarding the ME, and wood whittling is one that i see him doing a lot! also my family gifted blocks in this style to my cousin’s kid and they’re super fun, i figured Knuckles would do something a little more geometric rather than basic shapes!

i tried to imply it as best as i could, but Amy just literally bought any and everything that was cute to her. dino shirt? bought. frilly dress? in the basket. socks that come in a rainbow spectrum of colors? that shit is going to her adorable lil niece or nephew so they can be dressed in everything possible and have all sorts of fun baby photos to look back on later when they’re older. bonus: if their assigned gender at birth changes, they can pick the baby photos that they feel best about! that was the thought process i was going for with her

i was a little unsure for a while what the Chaotix would give, but then thought of how adorable it would be for Charmy to want to give the drumset he has in Heroes! (he absolutely has a more elaborate drum set at this point that is way louder lmao) Vector and Espio having practically raised the lil guy i figure they would value the memories they’ve created with him and would encourage Sonic and Shadow to do the same with their child

I was a lil stumped with Rouge, before applying the same sort of hobby headcanon for her except she absolutely has a collection of crocheted fashion that she rocks whenever she can, all of that cool bikini shit!!! also absolutely has her own custom blanket if she feels like hanging upside down to sleep. Shadow knew of the hobby and maybe even secretly hoped that she would make a baby blanket, but didn’t pressure Rouge. also my own dad has done the same multiple times for friends and family over the years having babies, idk how often other writers do it but i love just. taking tiny things like this from my own life and inserting it where i can. idk it just makes me feel warm and happy :) also a pic for reference for the blanket!

back at it again with the irl influences: i didn’t specifically want to name it but the book series Vanilla gives are absolutely these guys or some Sonic-World equivalent

this series and author is the S H I T. so fucking good. it’s my mom’s favorite and she gifted all the ones she had to the same kid who got the blocks! and i loved the idea of Cream wanting to create a plush, kind of like something her mom had made for her when she was a baby, to give to the new youngest member of this mashed together found family. also i feel like every Sonic fan at some point looked up making a custom plush version of their Chao on their SA1 or SA2 Chao garden saves

from the beginning i knew Omega’s gift would be something to the point like diapers, but only recently came up with them also vowing they would be the one to upkeep the diaper supply. this absolutely means that once or twice they receive a frantic message from Shadow in the middle of the night asking for more bcs both he and Sonic completely forgot to grab some bcs they are Just Tired. Omega dutifully follows through and accidentally intimidates the poor employee who’s running the 24/7 store alone that the robot had to go to for the specific brand of diapers that the organics insist on using

Blaze was easy to figure out from the start what she would gift, Silver was a little more tricky until i went with the mindset of what he would’ve wanted in his childhood. it definitely wouldn’t have been a magic cure all, but even regular white noise i’m sure would be preferable to the sound of exploding lava or whatever the fuck was happening in Crisis City. for those not entirely sure what kind of sling Blaze gifts it’s this sort of thing

with Eggman’s gift it was pretty set from the beginning, the Project Shadow files and some sort of toy which eventually i landed on the choice of a rattle! i just love the idea of him finding irony in giving the offspring of his worst enemy a toy with his own face on it that will inevitably be smacked against any and every surface or face possible, and idk if there is any actual rattles with a silencing option, but i thought that would be a neat engineering thing. also the panicked reaction of everyone hearing an audible click from something that Eggman created was too funny, and Sonic just casually okay with giving the toy to his child. super excited to explore more of the relationship between this mad genius and blue hedgehog kajfjf

so, i went searching for frames that honor babies lost via miscarriage, it was hard personally looking at them. not that i’ve had a miscarriage, but any loss of life is horrible. a lot of them were very religious-focused or morbid for my own taste, that’s great it’s helped so many others! i’m trying not to discount that, but so many of them just felt too much like a gravestone or didn’t match with how i’ve characterized Sonic and Shadow in this fic. i feel that neither would be all for something that felt so grief-ridden or weighed down by sadness, and would want something that helps to celebrate and remember Dusk and Dawn in a less flowery-poetry or religious sort of way. writing this whole part with the frame and how it resonated with Sonic is one of the few times my own writing made me tear up, most likely because of how it lines up with my own beliefs, and instead of thinking about how terrifying the nature of death is, to try viewing it in a more positive way

uhhhhh that’s it! hope this helped with visualizing the gifts if anyone was having trouble with them, or were just curious about the thought process!

#personal #the joys of writing #sonadow #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog

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commando-rogers · 1 year

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ignore for post that became a much longer rant than I expected and I’ll look up how to do read more on mobile and add that soon but tldr I love my friends and am so lucky and can’t believe I found them

had the most absurd day I’ve had in months but now I’m emotional bc I have a group of friends who I love so much and in our group chat we’re simultaneously committing to bits and making jokes and sharing life updates and sharing selfies and planning visits and offering help and giving advice and answering questions and asking questions and encouraging each other and god it just feels so fucking good to have a group of friends who are my FRIENDS and I know I’m their friend and we’re adults but we’re silly and I love them and we love each other and I cannot believe I was gifted with these people at the time I needed it more than I even realized and I even more so cannot believe that I kept them and we’re even closer now months later and I’ve grown so much because of them and in all honesty if I’m getting to the root of it, I just can’t believe that I’ve healed to the point where I was actually mentally and emotionally capable of making friends and keeping them. that sounds so stupid but it’s a huge deal for me and I’m not really religious but the way that they came into my life at the most dire time and are so incredible in the best most fulfilling ways makes me feel nothing short of blessed. it’s a group of 8 ridiculous people ranging from age 23 (me) to 35 and we only met a little over 5 months ago but I really think we’re gonna be friends for a long time and this is so amazing for me in so many ways. when I met them I was so numb that I didn’t even realize I was on the edge of feeling nothing at all and they made me feel so much and literally healed me and they don’t even know it, and I didn’t know it til I moved away but we all text almost every day and in less than a week we’re all getting back together again!!!!! so soon!!! and then a little over month after that we’ll be together again!! and then again a month after that, twice!!! because we met doing a play and a bunch of them have booked more plays and we’re so happy for each other and so determined to stay friends that we’re planning group outings for every single one. and if I’m being honest, I’m almost certain that the first time I book a play in New York City, they’re gonna plan a group trip and travel multiple states to come support me too. and I know that that “almost” only comes from my own insecurities, not from any semblance of doubt. this post became so much more than I meant it to but I can’t comprehend how much these people healed me and helped me grow and they’re so FUCKING weird and ridiculous and I love them SO much. and I don’t think I’m romanticizing it because of my own mental shit, I really think they all love us that much. and I’m so emotional because this feeling is new for me. I have my individual best friends who i adore and would give my life for, I’ve had groups of casual friends before, I have groups of lifelong friends who I also adore more than anything and are my lifelong best friends forever and would die for but I’ve never had a group like this. and I’m so emotional because I think during the months leading up to meeting them I realized how I never had that and how badly I needed that to survive. literally to survive, I didn’t realize that til about a month ago when our show ended and I moved. not that I was gonna die, I absolutely wasn’t in any danger, but I was mentally numb and I wasn’t living. and they made me remember what living is and realize that I wasn’t feeling anything and realize that I felt happy again. I’m emotional because i thought I was a broken person who didn’t know how to make friends. and now here I am I’m so fucking lucky and I love them and I’m seeing them in six days and I can’t wait, and they don’t know how grateful i am and how much they did for me but I love them

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yamagucji · 3 years

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some tips for writing blogs, especially those who are just starting out. these are some things that works for me and may or may not work for others.

how to add a read more link on mobile

type :readmore: on a free space, then hit the enter or return button

personally i think they’re very helpful because it lessens the space you take up in your dash, and might encourage more people to rb

+ you can also add this on a spot where it gives a sort of cliffhanger, essentially making people want to ‘read more’

headers, banners, and dividers

though not necessary, it’s good to have a title for your work. make sure it’s bold and doesn’t blend in with your notes (aka pairing, warnings, etc.). this also helps when someone wants to look up one of your works in your search bar

i don’t really make banners or covers for my works. but some good apps that i know of would be picsart and canva. if you’re looking for ideas, i definitely recommend going into canva

wondering how to make those really small, thin dividers? you can make them using picsart! to make a divider hit tools > free crop > brush > size (adjust it to your preference > then draw a line along the edge of your photo > save

using the divider you just saved, go back to picsart and edit it again > draw option > hit rainbow square at the bottom left corner > hit suction/droplet symbol right below the check mark > color in the white spots bc for some reason picsart glitches and makes dividers look white-ish

new blog? just opened an account?

this is gonna sound really frustrating. but... tumblr needs to check if you’re a bot or not. what does this mean? it’s likely that your first few posts won’t show up on the search bar. you may not even get to edit your header/pfp yet ://

this happened to me and there was no visibility on my account at ALL. what helped me get ‘verified’ is that i followed a LOT of accounts, liked a bunch of posts, made some posts here and there. now that lets tumblr know you’re not a bot

visibility

the tumblr tagging system usually only allows the first 5 tags in your post to show up. so, what can do you about this? only use FIVE or less tags in your post. wait about 15 minutes or more until you can add some more tags in your post, and they usually all show up like that

another important thing about using tags is not to generalize! especially if you’re using a popular tag. but also don’t specify it too much where barely anyone looks it up. for example, if you’re writing a gn piece about oikawa, i recommend you use the tags such as: oikawa x reader, haikyuu x reader, oikawa x gn!reader, haikyuu headcanons, etc

a good rule of thumb is to use character x reader tags first, then leave the full name or fandom tag last

FOR NSFW: tumblr doesn’t let any tags with nsfw show up. so, give your nsfw works another tag. maybe #namegetspicy idk, you figure it out

FOR WARNINGS: especially if you’re a dark content creator, i highly encourage you to add tw:xyz tags. if you already have a warning note at the top then that’s great. but even better for readers who prefer to actually block these tags that way they never get to see it

another important thing to note is that people have different timezones. it helps if you rb your work at a different time of the day, in case people missed it! (icymi) i’ve noticed that reblogging helps to make your post show up in the tags

interaction + feedback

first and foremost, you are not obligated to write for your followers, and neither are your followers obligated to interact with you. remember that everyone has their own individual lives, and they have their own things to do— so do you, too.

make friends! become mutuals with other writers, visit their ask box. i know it can be daunting having to initiate these things, but you might just turn out to have fun! you can’t expect people to interact with you if you’re not interacting (back). it’s... kind of a two way thing yk? no need to be afraid to interact with other writers. oh, and rb other writers works!

pspsps join tag games or do ask games. it’s fun and very interactive

it never hurts to ask for feedback. i usually do this in a more subtle way because i don’t really expect a full on analysis on my works. maybe a little, is this okay? or feedback appreciated. sometimes it takes a little bit of coaxing for the silent readers

formatting your posts and blog

i generally put in the title at the top in big, bold letters

then comes the header/divider. helps to make the post more... visually appealing ig?

it’s important to add warnings (if any) and the pairing. the audience is not all female, and it might be a little frustrating for male readers having to find out its an x fem reader piece like halfway through your fic

if you have multiple works posted, it’s really really helpful to have a navigation page!

you can organize the posts you make with tags! for example, if you’re shitposting, you can use a specific tag for that. if you have a nsfw related post (ESPECIALLY when your blog is open to the general audience) please make a tag for it

themes + colors

if you have a color in mind but don’t know which direction to go from there, i recommend looking up color + aesthetic

looking to use the same color? download a name color app that’ll give you a hex code for any color you want to use. then, you can type in that hex code for when you’re choosing a color for your tumblr bio

wondering how to make your header image small like mine? just choose a photo for your header and turn off the stretch image option

want to use a different text color that tumblr doesn’t offer? it’s not as complicated as you think. you’ll have to go on a desktop to do this and do some html (but trust me, it’s not very difficult). look up “HTML noob but trying my best - how to use colored text on desktop”

^^ i don’t have the link for the color text tutorial so you can try looking it up

how to make an aesthetic navi and masterlist

step 1: decide a theme! if you’re stuck, think about a character + color/season/mood or look up “[insert] aesthetic” to find some inspiration. or you can try looking at other blogs too

step 2: find a color scheme! it’s easier if you choose fewer colors. if you want to use the same color for both divider and text, download a color name app in order to get the hex code of that color.

step 3: add categories to your navi! most navigation pages include a link to masterlist, about/byi, and rules. your navi should have a title that indicates that it’s... a navigation page. you can add thin colored dividers with the same color to make it easier for followers to navigate

step 4: you can choose to create a ‘cover’ or a picture for your navigation and masterlist! again, i recommend you use the canva app as a starting point

extra: search up emoticon symbols to spice up your titles!

reminder for you as a writer

you’re not obligated to do any of these things. i’ve noticed that we tend to build pressure on ourselves when it comes to content and interaction. remember, this !! is !! for !! fun !! when you realize that it’s no longer fun, then know that it’s time to take a break. and there’s nothing wrong with a bit of self care.

^^ c/p from this post lol

at the end of the day, follower count and interaction doesn’t define you. again for the love of beings, you’re here on your own accord.

will be adding more if needed/asked.

#cupid; talks!#cueuepid

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silverrstarrr · 3 years

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extra hand

Update note: Happy spring break loves! Here's a smut I never finished but I still wanted to post it. I'll be taking break from writing eren. I recently started simping for geto Suguru from jjk so😩

Okay, so this is my first smut. I'm just experimenting and playing around with things. I WOULD LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, but don't bash me bc I'm a little sensitive and then go off 🥲. Song? Um, don't get mad at me but killshot by Magdalena b. slowed n reverb and no guidance remix, slowed n reverb.😕🦴

Pairings: erenxf!reader, smut!

Warnings: fingering, swearing, idk??

"Fuck!"

You tossed your phone onto the nearby bed in the spawn of annoyance, watching the mobile device bounce up a few times, then settling down into the soft comforter. Why were you irritated? It was because he hasn't texted. Eren Yeager haven't texted you back.

Your relationship with eren was a toxic one. You weren't the type to romanticize or fetishize "toxicness" but here you are, putting yourself in one.

Eren was your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend? The both of you used to talk, met at a dumb frat boy party. This should have raised red flags immediately but you guessed the alcohol was to blame for it.

You guys had a small heated makeout session in one of the corners, away from the crowd. Sadly your friend was vomiting all over the place and had to take your leave.

Slowly you started seeing each other on campus and exchanged numbers. He'd always flirt with you, crack small jokes and was a good listener.

Sometimes he made small gestures and teasing comments that made the tension between you two, very heavy.

You started talking to him more than usual. you were sure eren only gave you his number to call you anytime he was in the mood, which happened often. It was obvious he's been with other women before cause, phew, he knew how to put it down.

Despite being fuck buddies, he was always down to chat and talk about things. You adored everything about him. How unkempt his hair was, the way he'll always ask how you were feeling and was willing to help you–his beautiful jade eyes.

Anytime you were upset with him, he always knew how to catch your attention again. From all this, you caught feelings. Real bad. But eren didn't feel the same, well so you thought.

Eren was walking around campus with another girl, arm slung around her shoulder, him whispering sweet nothings in her ears as you watched her face get red and started laughing. He even took you on small dates to restaurants and hanged out at his dorm.

You stood there dumbfounded. He played you. You guys were never a thing, you didn't understand why you thought you'll be different, he's a fuck boy after all.

He hit you up later that night, wanting to have a sesh in his car. Your emotions were spilled all over the place. you messaged him back questioning about the girl he was with. You sounded so desperate and you hated it.

From the way you were texting he knew you've caught feelings and automatically cut you off.

You were shocked, you hoped for him to just clear things up and tell you those overly used line: "she doesn't mean anything". You know, what most guys tell their girlfriends after being caught cheating.

But that was 4 months ago. He recently got in touch with you two week ago. How dare he just try to slide back into your life as if nothing happened? you were beyond pissed but you still messaged him back anyways. What the fuck? You're just going to get hurt all over again. You guys were chatting for a good week and decided to meet at his dorm.

"Hey y/n, long time no see, huh." He said

you clicked your tongue. "So you just ghost girls out of nowhere and hit them back up whenever you feel like it?" you were absolutely irritated, you wanted to punch his stupid face.

Eren rolled his eyes and let out a tiresome sigh. "It's whatever, get over it. I messaged you back, correct? You should be happy."

He was high. You could already tell by the way he smelled and the reason why he texted you out of the blue.

"Fuck you, Eren." You stormed out of there with your blood rushing. You were so angry but wanted to cry so much. "Whatever"? Was he serious?

You immediately called an uber and went home.

You rented out an apartment with one of your friends from high school. They were out most of the time so you never really saw them.

Automatically, eren was blowing up your phone with text messages. You didn't answer them, and kept him on delivered.

Which didn't last long because early on, on Tuesday, you messaged him back.

He was obviously upset you left him up and dry for a week but got over it.

Now, you're here. Waiting for his reply once again, your last text message was three days ago. It was currently Saturday night, 6:48 pm.

He hasn't responded since Wednesday. Was he going to ghost you again? Maybe he found another girl to mess with? bzzt bzzt You instantly whipped your head back, and stared at your phone's now lightened screen. You had a notification,

From eren.

Unlocking your phone, you checked what he sent.

"Can you come over?"

"pls?"

You read, then reread, then read again. He wanted you to come over? he's doing it again. He's fucking doing it again. He responds three nights later, what the fuck.

You didn't respond at first. Just staring at the open conversations.

You guessed eren saw that you read his text and three dots appeared on the lower left, he was typing.

"y/n, I know I fucked up but please can you respond at least?"

Your thumbs swiped against the keyboard.

"say what? what do I owe you a response for?" You sat down on your bed as the blue bubble sent.

"my phone got messed up, I dropped in it in the rain on my way back from practice. It cracked really bad"

You studied the screen not knowing what to say. You couldn't tell if he was lying or if it was true. But it did rain on Tuesday, so his story wasn't completely untruthful.

"I'll be over in 10"

That's it, you gave in to him. You're just setting yourself up again for another heartbreak.

You decided to prepare yourself. This was going to be a long night

—

You had your jacket on as you stepped out the door. It was still winter, luckily the piled up snow died down.

You quickly jogged to your uber and entered inside. the driver took off shortly after you came in.

The drive was pretty short, he was only ten minutes away. you wished it was longer, so you could lecture yourself for the decision you made.

You hoped out the car and went inside the boys dormitory. His dorm was on the left wing, so you proceed towards that direction.

Eren shared a dorm with Armin, you hoped he was there just in case a heated argument happened because you had a feelings one would come.

Arriving at the hall where all the rooms were at, you walked down the hall checking the numbers, so you'll know which one was his.

You despise that you remembered it as you stood in front of his door.

You pulled out your phone to shoot him a quick "here" to notify your arrival.

Not too long after, a tall brunette opened the door, he immediately grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside.

The room was dim and dark, other than the dark purple LD lights.

You felt your back make contact with the door behind you, he snaked his free hand around your waist. He pressed his lips against yours, you could feel his impatience as he tilted his head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss.

He pulled away ever so slight and licked the bottom of your lip asking for entrance, so intoxicated by his lust you simply obeyed and parted your mouth slightly. His warm tongue slipping in exploring every inch of your mouth.

You ran your other hand over his black t-shirt trailing up to his neck soon afterwards interlocking your fingers in his brown locks. Although the kiss felt rushed it still made you melt, and gave a small throb down in your area. You slightly tugged on his hair earning you a groan into the heated kiss.

The butterfly’s in your stomach were going on a rampage and your heart was beating out of your chest. He slightly pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths together.

"...eren," you moaned slightly.

He was looking down at you, you were so stunning beneath him—face already flustered from one kiss. he wanted to here his name once more.

traveling down to your neck, he started showering it with wet kisses, and continued traveling down. He reached your collarbone and gave it a small bite, as the skin turned red, your grip in hair grew tighter. You were a mess, already ready feeling slick in between your legs as you rubbed them together, desperate for any sort of friction.

eren slid his hand upwards from your waist to your shirt, his soft hands grazed your bare skin—rubbing slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

you released another breathy moan as he continued at your neck. Hearing you moan was a blessing to him, he couldn't stop thinking about you ever since your last encounter.

He wanted to defile you, run his hands all over your body, touching placing only he knew he had access to—having your fingers intertwined in his long locks as he heard dumb founded mewls, begging him to stop teasing and give you what you wanted.

He pulled himself away from your neck, leaving you stunned at his sudden stop.

" why'd you st-" you were cut off by the jerk at your arm once again. He was taking you to his room as you trailed behind him, not saying a word.

Reaching his room, he pulled you inside, his lips crashed against yours once more, he kicked the door with his foot and closed it, locking the knob.

Your mind was fuzzy, you felt so heated and felt your pussy clench against nothing. You wanted him so bad, his impatience was rubbing off of you. But you couldn't bring yourself to tear away from his mouth, his lips felt so soft against your own. It made you feel wanted by him again, as if he never ghosted you and needed you this whole time.

Your back touched the soft mattress of his bed as he climbed on top of you, you were going haywire. you gave in to him with no obligation whatsoever and was dominanted in response. you can't say you didn't expect this from the moment he decided to text you.

His hands slithered up your shirt, pushing it up, grabing a hold of your breast through the bra. you smiled at his eagerness to touch you, how long has he been like this? using your elbows to support you, you raised your upper back from the bed as his other hand came around and unhooked your bra.

The butterflies in your stomach wouldn't stop, the warmth from his body felt attonishing against your own. sloppy kisses smothered across your lips, each break releasing a moan from one another, hearing throughout the room.

You laid back down as his hand large hands began fondling with your breast, your nipples were already hard from all the foreplay.

Eren hips started to grind against your pelvis,

"Fuck..." he moaned out, his face was already red, blushing like a dumb teenage virgin.

You break the kiss and sat up to remove your shirt, eren gave you space to do so–moving back a little. You tossed it on the floor, on the otherside of the bed, along with your bra, which was sitting next to you since eren took it off. You knocked you shoes off as well.

You immediately leaned towards eren wrapping your arms around his neck, lips already on his own, making him fall towards your direction—giving you a chance to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back made contact with the mattress once again and you moved your hips, grinding your heated core against his crotch.

"Dammit y/n...fuck, I can't stand this...when you do this to me."

Eren followed the same action as you. Releasing small moans and you both continued to dry hump one another.

You tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. You didn't like it when you were the only bare and he knew this, a small chuckled erupted from his throat as he got on his knees–hands grasping the hem of the shirt, tugging it over his head.

You laid there in awe, he still kept his shape after all these months. You guessed those practices were really paying off. Your hand trailed up his torso, feeling his sculpture chest beneath your palm. His skin was so soft, you drifted your hand back down, passing over his abs.

"You like what you see?" he said smirking down at you.

"Shut up." you spat out.

Eren moved back down to your chest and took a hold of your breast, bringing his mouth to your nipple–while his other hand supported his weight. He gave it a long lick eyes flickering up at you, checking your reaction. His mouth was warm, his heavy breath touching your skin while he decided to play with your nipple.

You released small grunts as his red tongue swirled around your perked bud, closing his mouth then releasing it—leaving kisses and bite marks all around your breast. You were prepared for all the purplish marks you'll in the morning, you prayed you had your ointment at home.

Using his other hand, he slid his hand down your stomach, earning another moan from you. His touch felt so ethereal, this was what your body was craving for all these months.

His hand slid past your joggings, making contact with your cotton underwear. He dipped his fingers between your lips, gathering the slick that was leaking from your heat. His fingers brushed against your clit, as you moaned his name,

"eren—hnng, stop teasing—"

His only response was a smirk as he released his lips from your nipple with a wet pop sound.

"look how wet you are for me, hm? what happened to that attitude that you're so keen of?" his index finger continued to rub against your entrance, your clit getting some friction in the process. His middle finger plunge into your hole, sliding is easily from the lubrication of your wetness as he began pumping his finger in a steady motion, each stroke going deeper and deeper, stretching you out.

"nnghh—fuck eren..." your voice pitched at a higher tone for a moment.

you haven't felt like this is a while, his long digit fitted perfectly into your hole.

"hm? look how tight you pussy has gotten without me, can't wait to feel you around me."

Eren pulled his finger out, using his index to spread open your lips, then gathered some more slick as both fingers went inside.

He was prepping you up for his length, since you haven't had sex in a while. His fingers started to scissor you, both spreading out in your core—stretching you out even more.

Your hand immediately went for his hair and tugged at it with a grunt, eren moaned at your aggressiveness with his brunette locks.

"s-stop...mfhh." another soft mewl escaped your lips.

Eren pulled out his fingers and rested them in your panties.

"Stop?" He knew what you meant, he always does. his eyebrow turned to an arch, waiting an answer.

"m'didn't mean for you...to," you couldn't form a sentence, your mind was so hazy from the heated atmosphere between you two. you wanted his touch again, you hated the feeling of you clenching around nothing.

eren gave your chest a few pecks, then one at your neck close to your jaw.

"use your words, y/n." man, he was enjoying this too well. He missed this part of you so bad, having you a complete mess under his touch.

"I want you inside of me." The last word was spoken in a lower tone, you were embarrassed. Never knew you'll hear those words come from your mouth again.

"Good girl." He bought his fingers up to his mouth as he sucked on them, swirlying his pink tongue around his digits while directly making eye contact with you. Releasing them with another wet pop, he start to work on his joggers.

Moving off of you, he swing his legs to the edge of bed, pullng down his gray sweats as it hits the floor–slides it across the floor. He did the same with his boxers.

You did the same, taking off your bottoms along with your damp panties, placing it over with your other clothing.

erens cock slapped against his abdominal, precum already dripping from the slit of head.

He gave himself a few strokes, groaning loudly as he shifted back to your direction. Settling between your legs, he uses his hand to trace his pink tip between your folds, slipping between your lips constantly—gathering lubrication.

"m'mfgh...stop teasing eren," your chest was heavy with anticipation, you wanted him inside you so bad. His free rest on your bended knee, his fingers drawing circles.

"shhh, y/n—I know." He coos.

Finally, he dipped his cock into your seeping hole as your velvety walls draw him in–not giving him a chance to adjust from tight you were. You both moan in unison, feeling contentment, getting what you guys wanted you at last.

" hnng, you're so tight...shit," erens eye closed shut while he pushed the rest of his length inside you. Even after stretching you out with his fingers, you were still tight and eren enjoyed every second of it.

Once he was in all the way, his cock was a snug fit—he waited for you to adjust so he could move.

Your chest now heaving up and down, you give a little nod—signaling it was okay to move. Drawing his hips back, he slid out of your core completely and immediately thrusted forward entering back to your wet core.

Eren began thrusting into you at a steady pace as his both of his hands grabbed your legs, resting them behind your knee.

You knew it'll be a long night.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

update note: HAHAHA IM BACK GUYS MORE FANFICS. I'm finally on spring break 😭

#x reader #anime #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #aot x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager #eren jeager headcanons #armin x black reader #eren aot #eren yeager smut

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sunshine--writes · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound

header image courtesy of one of the biggest Lady Dimitrescus simps i’ve ever met.

This is the first and last time i will ever write anything so be prepared. Also i’m not the best writer so some parts might be very rushed and sloppy sorry. Idk how to post on tumblr either and also i’m on mobile so sorry for weird formatting issues :)

A little background I wrote this as a presentation thing with my friends so it’s not gonna be good. Also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so sorry i guess?

Warnings: NSFW of course, uh very kinky probably, swears in this warning, f! Reader, reader is a vampire pls let me have this, IT MAKES SENSE FOR THE STORY PLEASE LET ME HAVE THIS, vampires need sleep i guess idk just fuck let me live, fluff at the end bc im a whore for that kinda shit, probably ooc for Lady Dimitrescu but like idk her character other than dom mommy milkers so, blindfolds, binding arms? what is it called??

All of your senses returned to you very slowly. You didn’t know where you were, or why someone had taken you in the middle of the night, but for some reason you felt safe. You could feel the cold damp floor of the cell you could only presume you were in and you could smell rotting flesh and the wet metal that surrounded you. You could hear the dripping noises of falling water coming from somewhere in front of you, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching. The only sense you never regained was your sight. You could feel the soft fabric that covered your eyes and made a reasonable guess that your host for the evening had blindfolded you.

“Have you awoken my darling?” Ah, speak of the devil. The person that belonged to that sultry voice was one Lady Dimitrescu -- the countess that you have met with several times before and every encounter has somehow ended the same way. You remember the first time you met the 9 foot tall woman. It was 1920, and as the child of a wealthy eastern european count, you were required to attend the galas that were thrown. During one such occasion you happened to run into Lady Dimitrescu, and had unfortunately uncovered her secret. At the first sign of danger a normal person would have run, but who were you to judge? After all, aren't you two essentially the same?

That was the first night, and the begging of a long mutual relationship between the two of you. A whirlwind of passion, anger, misery, and lust was the only way you could describe these past decades you have spent with her. Everytime you left her embrace, you couldn’t help but long to be in it again no matter how angry you were. This on again off again relationship had persisted through generations, and you would be damned if you would give up now. She had introduced you to your friends who had shared the same beliefs, and made you feel welcomed. She had been there during the downfall of your family's power, and she was there for every milestone. You had to admit, your life was tied to this woman if you had liked it or not. Every night you spent apart was agony, and every moment you spent together was bliss. You have eternity, so what's the use in spending anymore time apart?

This night felt different. It wasn't normal for her to seek out your company, so why has she all of a sudden? And since when has she been this gentle? If it was like any other night she would have already had her way with you and thrown you to the side. Tonight was definitely different.

“My dear turn towards me.” She demanded, and you obeyed, crawling your way to the direction you think she might be in. You found her in the corner of what you think is a cell. You could tell she was sitting in a chair so you sat on your knees in front of her.

“Ah, isn’t this better darling? Everything is as it should be.” You could hear the sound of her claws extending -- and then you felt as she dragged the nail across your cheek, across your lips, and down to your chin.

“My love, head up. This way I can see your beautiful face.” She spoke as she lifted your head with her sharp claw. “Ah this beautiful face, the one that has tormented my dreams for far too long. Isn’t this much better?” You nod, what does she mean tormented her dreams? Over these past years you understood that this relationship was not one out of love, so you never gave yourself hope that she might feel the same as you. Even as her words sounded like a declaration of longing, you refused to dream. An intimate relationship with her, even one without love, was enough for you. As long as you could remain at her side for the rest of eternity you would be happy.

She sighed, “No matter, tonight is somewhat of a celebration, and as I am in a good mood I have sought you out. So where shall we start?” You hear the claw retreat back into her hand and her start to stand up, towering over you. “Lets get you out of these clothes hm?” She grabs you by the neck forcing your body down to the ground, cool gloved hands start roaming all over your body, loosening and untying the thin clothes you wore to sleep that night. “Ah beloved, how I had missed this.” Her mouth descended onto your neck where you could feel the warmth of her saliva as she sucked on that tender spot. You whimpered, moving closer into the bigger woman, although this isn't the first time she has marked you like this, it still sends tingles down your spine. Your hands started to roam as Lady Dimitrescu moved her way from your neck to your chin, and finally to your mouth: enveloping you in a deep kiss. Your back arched to be closer to the woman on top, deepening the kiss. You could taste the reminisce of blood and the sweet wine she had been brewing for years. Tonight really was an important celebration. You couldn’t control yourself as both of your bodys moved in tandem, your hands moving down her back.

She pulled away, leaving you gasping for air, “Now now my dear, you know the rules. No touching without permission. Now let's get these hands out of the way hm?” You could feel as the warmth from her body moved away, leaving you semi-naked on the cold floor. You couldn’t tell where she had gone, nor how long she was gone for -- every minute without her felt like agony anyway.

Her footsteps finally came back, “On your knees,” she demanded, and you moved without hesitation. “Both arms behind you.” Again you moved without thinking, obeying every word. You could feel as some soft fabric was slowly wrapped around both of your wrists and then tied, you could guess that it was the same silk as the one around your eyes.

“There, isn't that better darling? Now lay back down, I will loosen you up.” A claw extended and you felt as the rest of your already loose clothes were torn off, including your slick underwear. “Hm?” she laughed, “Already ready for me?”

“Yes mistress.” you nodded, spreading your legs slightly.

“Darling you know I love it when you call me that.” Gloved hands traced their way from your neck, to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally rested on your thighs. “Hm? What should I do darling? Shall we continue?”

“Yes mistress.” You begged, wiggling your body hoping for her hand to end up in that place you wanted it. You begged for her to give you release, begged for the thing you missed the most over these years.

“Hm? Shall I grant you your requests? Maybe you should beg some more first.” Her hands suddenly moved, finding their way back up to your breasts, hands playing with your nipples. You squirmed, wishing that the woman would give you what you wanted.

“Please mistress,” you begged, pushing yourself onto her thigh. Your cries fell on def ears as she continued to play with you. You started grinding on her thigh, pleading with your mistress to take you. “Please Lady Dimitrescu, please help me.”

You felt her hot hands finally leave your chest, “Fine, I shall grant this one request to you my beloved.” Suddenly you felt a gloved finger push its way inside you, forcing itself deeper in, her other hand went back to playing with your breasts. You gasped, moaning as she started moving around slowly inside. You tried to move yourself down onto her hand, allowing sweet relief. Her unoccupied hand made its way up to your neck and she started choking you.

Her tempo picked up as another finger made its way inside. The sounds coming out of you were ungodly, she had you crying out in pleasure. “Do you like that my dear?” she called out from on top of you. You could only nod your head and cry out something akin to the word yes. She was moving even faster and you could feel the pressure inside of you about to explode, you begged your mistress to please release you, but she wouldn’t budge moving faster than she had ever moved before. You were moaning and screaming in pleasure, you silently thanked whoever was up there that you were in a castle otherwise you would probably have a noise complaint by now. Her movements had you writhing around, grasping for anything with your bound hands. You brought your legs and wrapped them around her, opening yourself up for her. You were desperately grinding against her hand, your walls tightening before you could come.

“Eager now aren't we, well my love shall I let you come?” Although you were blindfolded you could see her smirking face. You called out between moans, crying for her to let you. You were begging and pleading, you must have looked so pitiful but in that moment you wished for nothing more than to come undone by this woman's hands.

“Lets see how loud you can be.” You felt your walls close down on the fingers inside of you as you screamed out in pleasure, the pressure finally being released. You could feel your juices coming out as orgasms wracked through your body. The pleasure was too much for you to handle and before you knew it you passed out.

***

You awoke in a very comfortable bed, the feel of the satin sheets under you cooled your body and sent shivers all over. You had realized that both the blindfold and your arm restraints were gone, and your body had been cleaned up from last night's activities. You were wearing a thin nightgown that only accentuated how cold it was in this room. As you looked around you finally saw the face of the sleeping woman next to you. Strange, you had never awoken next to her, no matter how vigorous the previous night's activities were she always left before you woke up. You giggled quietly to yourself, last night must have been a special night indeed. You saw sunlight streaming in from the large windows on the northern wall of this bedroom casting itself onto her. She had never looked more beautiful in your long life. You reached out your hand and started softly stroking the woman's face and hair, careful not to wake her. You traced your way from her forehead down to her lips, pausing there slightly. Last night was different, it wasn't bad, it was in fact very good. It was just something you never thought would happen for the both of you. As you look at the face of sleeping Lady Dimitrescu in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would be like if you two had a different kind of relationship. Your thoughts were cut short when you felt two arms snake their way around you and suddenly you were pulled into the woman's arms.

“What are you doing awake so early my little dove? You should rest some more, last night must have been very taxing on your body.” Lady Dimitrescu spoke. You were shocked to say the least. Over the decades you have known the Countess, you have never been in her arms like this. This is what you had dreamt of for so long, wanting to feel true, romantic love from this woman, and now that you are here you felt as if you could cry.

And cry you did. Before you could stop yourself you felt the tears falling down your face and onto the clothes of the woman holding you.

“My beloved what is wrong?” Lady Dimitrescu frantically spoke as she tried to wipe the tears out of your eyes, “What is the matter? Please tell me.”

“It’s truly nothing,” you finally croaked out after minutes of sobbing. You must have looked ridiculous like this. How could you really think that she would love you like you love her. You are nothing compared to her.

“If you are crying then of course something is wrong. Please tell me darling, I hate to see you so sad.”

You hesitated. Was it really alright to tell her the thoughts that have plagued you for generations? You didn’t want things to change between the two of you. Even if you were just treated as a play thing, as long as you could stay with her you would do anything. “I love you. I have loved you for years, and you will never reciprocate how I feel. I am nothing to you other than a toy you can throw away at a moment's notice. But still I wish to stay by your side, even If I am nothing other than that. Don’t let my feelings change our relationship. I only want to stay with you.” The tears came back but you wouldn’t let them fall. You were stronger than that.

You felt her hold on you tighten as she brought you closer to her, lips brushing over your forehead and over your eyes. Her mouth moved around your face, kissing away your tears.

“Beloved who ever said I never felt the same way?”

to those liking this at 2 am: 📸📸📸

#lady dimitrescu #x f!reader #vampire reader #smut #blindfold #binding #idk what else to put in the tags #mommy issues #big mommy milkers #sub! reader #dom lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #you can treat this as a y/n but i never said a name so idc #lady dimitrescu fic #what game is she from?#resident evil?#i don’t remember #i’m not a writer

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metalbuckaroo · 2 years

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Hiya Darcy!!!! I see the hate anons are at it again and I am going to go on a tangent because guess what? I love pointing out haters’ mistakes, it’s a wonderful kind of irony.

First off, hate anon, starting off a new paragraph when someone speaks is not grammar, it’s formatting. You going to bitch about someone’s writing at least get your issue right.

Second, there’s this thing called writing style and every author has their own and when it comes to fanfiction, or fictional writing in general, their style trumps almost all those little rules your English teachers taught you in school. Their goal is to tell a story and not every character is going to be sophisticated and know and speak/think in “basic grammar” as you so eloquently put. It would be really hard to distinguish characters from each other if they all spoke the same way or didn’t have emotions in their voices. When you are upset or mad, do you speak “correctly” 100% of the time? I’m guessing not.

Third, technically a lot of people on this site (and others) don’t use correct formatting when it comes to fictional writing. Did you know if you’re writing fiction you’re also supposed to indent every new paragraph? And if it’s non-fiction or a report of some kind you leave the indent out? A lot of authors here do not have beta’s or someone to go through and find every little mistake like professional authors do. Almost everything you’ve ever seen printed in a book, newspaper, or magazine has probably had at least 2-3 or more people look and review it before it’s published. Also keep in mind, some bloggers do everything on mobile and between autocorrect and fat-finger typos, it’s very easy to not realize a mistake until after posting.

Fourth, you could have been a hell of a lot nicer than that. These authors are amazing and talented and providing content for your selfish rude little ass for FREE! FREE! You realize some of them are writing stories with more words than some of your favorite published series? Go look up the word count of them and take in just how much content these authors provide for fun. They don’t have to write and give us these wonderful stories, they do it out of the goodness of their hearts and because they love these characters and love to write. Assholes like you have driven away more talent than should be allowed because you can’t be mature enough to mind your own business or provide constructive criticism, if you truly can’t help yourself.

I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all” if not you have now. On here, my take is “If you don’t have the balls to criticize off anon, fuck off entirely.” Have a good day.

Darcy, you’ve already had people come to defend you so I’m not going to reiterate (they are right though, you’re a wonderful writer). Your style is unique to you. Every writer has one and I can always tell when something was written by you because of the style. You are giving us amazing stories and I get so excited when I get mentioned in something new. There is nothing wrong with how you write. Frankly I can’t recall ever coming across any blatant grammatical errors in your works. And I’m one of those that has a horrible habit of correcting people in real life when the use the wrong form of a word or the wrong word entirely (I’m getting better about it 😂). Please don’t let this rude anon’s words bring you down.

Stay warm in this winter weather we are having (I got more cold and ice than snow, but not a fan of either🥶)💕💕💕

Well said bby, I think sometimes it’s forgotten that most blogs do this as a hobby and for fun. Not bc they’re publishing a book that will be in stores.

Much love my darling 💙💙

#darcy answers

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bluebuckstallion · 3 years

Text

the sun will rise again - mlp fic

part two this is part one! part two and so on will be updated/reblogged when they are out! contents: aj and big mac are like. 13 and 15. big mac realizes she is a trans woman, and is guided by applejack, but there is much more to it than just that lol. its also a little hard for her. sappy, feel-good, tough internal conflict but overall happy fic. paragraph one is previewed here, the rest is below the cut! (note: i am aware my blog makes posts a little hard to read bc of a glitch, i am trying to fix it at the moment, i apologize D: i rec reading it on tumblr mobile or highlighting the words as you read, im sorry!)

Big Mac shuffled his hooves awkwardly. Racing thoughts fought furiously, cluttering his hurting head, and he put a weary hoof against his temple in an attempt to clear the fog. No avail. It was as strong as ever, the rushing current of rip tide sweeping him in the more he struggled. He insisted he'd never felt this way before, trying violently to shake away the thought, it made him shudder. But deep down somewhere he knew, he couldn't hide this strong feeling he'd become so familiar with. It felt like home, but he was trapped inside with the windows boarded and the floorboards were so old they were making him fall through with every step, and there were thick dusty cobwebs everywhere he tried to rest his burdened hooves. He couldn't leave. Outside of his overflowing head, there was a faint knocking at his door, though he had tuned it out completely. His thoughts whirled, and everything was making *so* much noise, the ceiling fan, the electricity in the walls, the birds outside, even the trees being rustled by the evening wind. Everything was so loud, and so muffled and far away, so close and inside his ears, they twitched eagerly trying to bat the harsh noise away, all collected into one horrid ear-piercing amalgamation of staticy sound. His fur was disturbed by his blankets, and his teeth felt uncomfortable as they grit desperately in an attempt to relax, his eyes were dry despite how much and how hard he was blinking, it felt like even the smallest thing would throw him overboard in this thundering storm of unsettlement. -

The knocking got louder. "Big Mac!" The sound was lost in the chaos of it all, but it prevailed. "Big Mac!" There it was again. It didn't quite reach him yet, though. But my, was it there. Incessant. Pounding. Oh, the headache of it all. Just adding to the pile. It hesitated. "Big Mac." The gentle coo reached him, piercing through the overwhelmingly loud silence in the air, he felt this odd choking sensation in his throat when he registered the voice, so familiar and so loving. But would it continue to be after this? The thought scared him. Fear struck his spine in striking bolts, waves of dread sulked, creeping in and making their nest in his aching body. He was so tired of coming back to this again and again, but it plagued his mind like a cold. He realized his internal monologue had been ongoing - even though it hadn't really spoke - but alas he had been lost in his own downward spiral of paranoia again, and had forgotten to respond. "Yu- uh- eeyup?" he stuttered out like he was drowning, he felt and sounded like a silly foal learning to walk for the first time again. He pushed his hoof lightly against his throat, shocked at his own lack of voice. Usually he was calm and confident, knowing what he wanted to say, despite how little it ever was. However he feared this would give way to his sister finding out, that she would know something was awry with him. "Can I, uh, come in?" the voice questioned. He nodded, then processed he had forgotten to use his words, and managed a sheepish "Yup." "Uh, okay." She responded equally as softly, her voice leaving a tinge of confusion to be interpreted. Applejack trotted in, her hooves making the wood beneath her creak as the old house settled. She nudged the door shut behind her nonchalantly with her back hoof, not taking her gaze off of what was ahead of her. She made a gesture towards Big Mac's bed and tilted her head, knowing he was a horse of few words, moreso when he got this way. And goodness, how he could manage to get into his own head. Applejack understood the feeling, more than he was letting on. Applejack got up and sat down awkwardly, glancing at her hooves as they, too, dragged over one another slowly, she never did like eye contact. Big Mac was more fidgety - he was straight-up restless, as he clapped his hooves together ceaselessly, clicking them atop one another with a hard "Clink." The silence was substantial, but it wasn't like it bothered them, usually. It drove Big Mac up the wall, he was sweating buckets thinking about what Applejack could possibly say. *Did she find out? Does she know? Does she hate me? She hates you. She knows and she hates you. She'll never forgive you. She'll never see you the same-* his thoughts were cut off abruptly. "So, big brother," she chuckled stiffly, "what's on your mind?" Blunt and to the point. She looked upward briefly, catching a glimpse of his face, caught in an uncomfortable twist as his mouth hung downward and his eyes sunk, staring blankly ahead. Neither of them looked at the other, but this again, was not unusual. When she said 'brother,' the word stung like a mosquito bite. It was barely there, but just enough to irritate him. And it grew bigger the more he picked away at it and gave it the time of day. Maybe if he just ignored it it'd heal itself, he thought. Her words in general hung high above his head, and he had forgotten to respond with the way he was over-analyzing it a million different ways inside. What was on his mind, besides this scary, burning question gnawing him alive? He gave a lackluster response to divert any inkling of anxiety, "Oh, nothing," and with that he kicked his back hooves loosely up, and they swung back down heavily in the empty air. What else could he say? The silence sat for a couple of seconds. Too long for Applejack's liking, she was growing a bit impatient with his lack of answers. She looked up and moved her head upward in tune with her eyes, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other as her lips pouted and she let out a quick exhale. She looked down at her teetering hooves again. "Nothing..." she repeated, tapping her hooves together about three times, give or take, she wasn't paying attention. "Oookay.." she said in a quiet tone, and the cadence in her voice had shifted after this minute or two of waiting. She scratched the back of her ear. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself." She looked up and beamed what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, which came out rather awkward. It fell just as awkwardly. She wasn't the best at conveying emotion, but neither was Big Mac. They had that in common. "Ok, I'll spit it out, rapid-fire," she said funnily, holding her hooves up and moving one in front of the other and back again in tune with the quirky enunciation of the last word. If nothing else, she was making an attempt to lift his low spirit. She inhaled, "Is it about me? About Ma or Pa? *Granny?* Baby Bloom?" and with that she exhaled overexaggeratedly. It took a second, but the half-smile she had faded from her face as he stood there saying nothing, simply folding one hoof over his other arm, rubbing it rigidly and looking away, and what she hoped was not true, had hit her. It was about himself. "Oh.. brother," she whispered to him, "You can tell me anything," she reached her hoof up toward him, pulling it back when it was halfway there as she winced at his lack of response, not even a lean-in to her gesture, but she continued anyway. She gingerly put her hoof on his shoulder. Becoming more confident with her comforting, she rubbed his back gently. "So it's about you?" He took a second, and nodded somberly. "Hey, that's alright. Tell me what's on your mind for real now, when you're ready. If, you're ready." AJ's voice, he found, was quite calming. Big Mac shot a glance at her timidly, then down at her hooves, and back up at her, but he couldn't look too long in order to stop the waterworks from coming. He gulped dryly and looked at the wall, and after the ceiling. He watched the fan dodder decrepitly, but so sure of itself, it's purpose, rotating on it's axis, again, and again, and again. He wished he could be so sure of himself, he wasn't sure if he ever could be, though. And here, he found himself envying the rotating of a ceiling fan. What an interesting moment, he thought sarcastically to himself. Was this really where he was at? He zoned out briefly, watching the blades go in circles, and then snapped himself back to reality with a hard blink, a downward motion of his head, and a squeezing of his hooves. "I..." he started softly and then trailed off. He sighed in dejection. "I- Well, I am me. But... I'm not. I look in the mirror, and it's not me looking back. I know that sounds... stupid, but it's not me. It's not like it isn't who I am, it's just not me. And I, don't know why. I mean I think I do, but I don't - sometimes-" He took a second to collect himself and inhaled, exhaling sharply after, he put his hoof firmly against his chest, as if almost trying to coax the words out. "I'm me, but I'm not. I'm not who I'm meant to be, I, I was born wrong. My body is wrong," he shook his head, like trying to shake the bad thoughts away. "It's not mine. I was born with something wrong about me, outside, inside I'm me, but outside I'm not. But - I'm not bad or anything, it's just that there was something different. And, you know that funny feeling of those butterflies in your tummy when someone you like says your name? I'll get that, but I won't recognize my name as mine, but I do get that feeling when...ponies accidentally call me what they call fillies, even though they don't mean to and fix 'emselves right after, and they act like it's so wrong, but I still get that funny feeling of, goodness. It catches me off guard in the best way... my heart skips a beat. And I know I'm s'posed to like girls, but there was something wrong about me lovin' 'em... it feels like. I feel real guilty-like when I start getting all lovey about one. It feels like I'm not allowed, like there's somethin'.." he teared up, "different. About me." He emphasized the last word quite significantly. He began to finish, not wordvomitting as much as he was before, instead saying it slowly, as if he was really trying hard to get his thoughts out. "I- I think, I think if I were born in the right body I'd be happier, but I don't want to change me, I just...want to change how people *see me."* Applejack raised her eyebrows and looked down, pushing her hooves together. She couldn't move, and she didn't. Big Mac's welling up had turned to a tear, gently rolling down his cheek. He held his breath, eyes darting back and forth from his sister's gaze - or lack thereof. Applejack held her breath as well. "Big mac, well - gosh." she let out staggeredly, anxiously chuckling, raising her hoof to her chest as she exhaled bluntly. Big Mac felt it coming, Roaring and Crashing. The water was surrounding him still, no matter how subtle it was before, it had been growing this whole time. Internal dread multiplying like a bilious bacteria, out to get him and cover him in it's killing spores. It must've been at least neck-high now. AJ chuckled, "Big Mac, I love you no matter what. You're my family." She looked him in the eyes, "It's gonna be ok." And there was the straw that broke the camel's back. It came through gently, like a soft breeze through his hair in summer, but it broke him so, so ruthlessly. He bit at his bottom lip and released, his mouth turning to a shaky U-shaped frown, and he bawled. Oh, how he bawled. He lunged for his sister's arms, which quickly opened for him to land in. Applejack huffed as the wind left her with his impact, but she regained control of herself and softly smiled, tenderly hugging him back. His head rested on hers, as hers on his. "It's alright big guy," she laughed. "In fact, I think I know exactly what's up." She pushed him off cautiously, and held her hoof against his shoulder. His tears subsided slightly, he wiped them with a trembling hoof. "Have you ever thought that maybe you feel like you're in the wrong body, because you're really a mare? I know nobody sees you that way right now, but I could start if that's who you really are." Big mac's pupils constricted, and he felt a leap in his chest. A mare? He tried so hard to push it out, but he couldn't. A mare. A mare! He let out a small smile, "A mare..." he then promptly shook his head. "But, I can't be. I wish it was that easy, that I could just be a mare, oh I wish so bad AJ," he put his hooves together and shook them, like he was pleading. He pushed her hoof off of him, sighing and speaking again, his voice cracking from the tears and raw emotion, "But I never could. I couldn't. I wish I could, but I'm not allowed to." he sighed defeatedly. Applejack chuckled, "Says who? All it takes is you saying you can. And I'll be honest, I feel like a lot of people don't give it much thought whether they want to be a mare or not - they just are." It all clicked. They, just are. He processed it for a second, and thought, and the thoughts slipped into words, "I'm a mare," he whispered. He smiled, the most genuine smile he'd ever shown. "I'm, a mare." He laughed, looking at Applejack. "A mare! I'm a mare!" His smile faded slightly, "But Applejack, am I still allowed to like other fillies? I figure now I'll have to like colts, that's what I've heard at least, and I really don't want to-" despite his concerns, he still looked quite euphoric. Applejack laughed again, "No, Big Mac, you can still like mares. It doesn't work that way I'm pretty sure." She rubbed the back of her head, "If it's any help, you can do whatever you want... What feels right." She closed her mouth and grinned, waving her hoof in the air dismissively of any negativity, her eyes in the other direction. Stopping, she looked at the ground and fiddled her hooves, "I, I actually know a lot about how you're feeling," she spoke nervously, cautiously, dancing around her words like she had something she didn't want to admit to herself as well. "I, know how you feel - about liking mares and, and the wrong body an' stuff. Feeling like your body isn't yours, it doesn't belong to you and never will, unless you make a big change, or somethin'. I get it. I feel wrong when people say I'm a girl, but I don't reckon I'd feel right with them callin' me a boy or something either - I don't think I really feel like either." She paused, cutting herself off, "I don't expect that to make sense to you, I know it's kind of weird and all." Big Mac thought for a bit, and then nodded, "No, I get it. I mean - I don't, but, I know you're you, no matter what, and I don't care who you are, you're still my sibling." Big Mac smiled nervously, trying to make sure he was doing the right thing. "And you're my sister, Big Mac," Applejack smiled back at him. "Now, how do you feel about me calling you by girl terms? Like, sayin' she, and stuff..." she struggled to think of an example. "Oh! Like, if I meet someone, I'll tell 'em "Oh Big Mac? She's my big sister!" Applejack let out a wide twinkling grin, feeling confident and proud with supporting her sister's feelings. "I, I like that." Big Mac said shyly, and she did. "Wait, how do I do the same for you?" she questioned. Applejack stalled, she really didn't think she'd get this far. "I think... I really like being called he, and brother and such. Although to be honest I'm not your sister and I'm not really your brother, and I still like other fillies - but I'm not one of them, or not in the same way, and - I don't know, it's a little confusing. I think the only way that I'm a filly is in the sense that I'm a mare who likes other mares. I don't really know what any of this is called," he voiced embarrassedly. "I wish I did." Big Mac smirked, "It's okay you don't, I don't know either. And we can learn together, little brother." She fluffed Applejack's hair playfully and her smirk became a toothy smile. Applejack laughed and joined her smiling. "Thanks," he said, quite gratefully. "To be honest, I've known this for a really long time, I just didn't know how to say it," he looked out the window longingly, "I wish I knew how to tell Ma and Pa, or Granny," he laughed a little, "and I don't even know how to tell a baby," he uttered, trying to lighten the mood a little after bringing it back down. Big mac grinned, "Why don't we go out to the orchard, little brother?"

#applejack mlp #big mac mlp #mlp fanfic #mlp fic #mlp writing #mlp au #mlp #applejack #big mac #trans applejack #trans big mac #my little pony #lesbian applejack #lesbian big mac #orchard blossom #trans au #the sun will rise again

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