#digging through my storage unit

[deelovesbooks]

A customer at work saw my deeply battered copy of ADOW that I've been rereading and I got to inform her that there was a new book released this year and I think I made her whole day

hi hello. was anyone going to tell me that there is not only a fourth (!) but also a fifth (!!!) book in the all souls series? or was I supposed to find that out myself when casually looking up when a discovery of witches was first published and then making ungodly noises only perceptible to bats for 5 minutes?

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

It Should Have Been You

Imagine: Pearline is Stack’s wife. She finds out the hard way when her husband continues his adulterous behavior.

Pearline Moore ONE-SHOT

Warnings: Smut. Angst, LOTS of dirty talk.

There is a humid, subtropical climate afoot in The South. Everyone takes shelter, and those with homes on raised beams above the waters that flow from the Mississippi River are the more fortunate. The rich, agricultural soil of The Delta is muddy and automobiles have a hard time getting through. A characteristic of alluvial deposition in deep water, where the river actively builds new land through sediments.

Shops close downtown, church’s postponed their congregations, and the plantation fields are overgrown and empty of sharecroppers picking cotton. The heavy showers beat down on rustic, tin roofs and bounced off the edges of iron tubs. Farm life make aggravated noises, stomping and shifting in their designated stalls surrounded by haystacks and various tools.

The weather didn’t keep Pearline Jacqueline Moore away from a local pharmacy owned by a Black Pharmacist named Robert Browning Jr.

Pearline wore her favorite riding boots, a trench coat, and a cloak hat over her moisturized curls with the help of Annie Minerva Turnbo Malone’s Poro Products. Her lush skin glistened from sweat and water as she hurried through downtown from her parked automobile. Pearline shoved past the doors to the pharmacy, the tiny bell above dinging softly, alerting Dr. Browning Jr. as he busied himself within a back room that he used as a storage unit.

She brushed her boots off on a mat as best as she could to keep mud from tracking the floor. Pearline removed her cloak hat, twisting it in her hands nervously, not realizing that she was ringing it out onto the floor. Her riding boots squeaked as she walked further into the pharmacy.

It was a bustling community hub with a strong focus on soda fountains and sundries. While they sold medicines, they also served as social gathering places, particularly during Prohibition, with soda fountains becoming popular. Pharmacists were not just dispensing medications but also providing advice and even counter-prescribing.

Pearline grabbed a basket and loaded it with random items, trying to appear less suspicious on why she was really there. She slipped past a newspaper rack and peeked at the headline on the front in bold, onyx print.

“Mrs. Moore? What you doing out in this awful weather?”

Pearline snapped her eyes towards the front counter.

Dr. Browning Jr. removed his reading glasses and stood dapper in a brown and beige suit with a maroon bow tie. He got rid of his suit jacket and replaced it with an apron, sleeves rolled up past his elbows revealing skin the color of pepper corn. He had a full goatee with a mustache that curled at the tips, sprinkled with gray hair and the hair on his head was close cut. He was a little over fifty years old and married to a stunning black woman from Alabama.

“Evening, Dr. Browning. My pantry is looking a little low. And I…I need some Arsenic to help with these pests hanging around my garden.”

Dr. Browning Jr. accepted Pearline’s basket and began ringing her up at his cash register. Pearline shifted her weight, anxious eyes looking around as if she were being watched.

“Would you like a vial of the poison or an entire bottle?”

“…I’m sorry?” Pearline inquired, seemingly lost as a nervous smile graced her heart–shaped lips.

“I’d suggest a bottle if the pest problem is serious. It’s quite pricy though, Mrs. Moore.”

“Oh! Oh…I think I should go ahead and buy the bottle. You never know, I may need it again.”

Pearline rushed to open her change purse, digging inside to grab a crisp twenty dollar bill. Dr. Browning Jr disappeared within his supply room for all but two minutes. He returned with a bottle of Arsenic, placing it within a box before gently covering it with a paper bag.

“That’ll be eighteen dollars.”

Pearline’s heart raced.

Pearline shifted her gaze towards the door, making sure no one was behind her.

“Mrs. Moore?—”

“Sorry,” she handed him the twenty dollars, “Keep the change. Thank you, Dr. Browning.”

Pearline accepted her bag, carrying it hugged to her slim–thick frame as she backed away.

“You need some help? I’m surprised Stack let you out in this mess.”

The mention of her husband’s name gave her pause.

It also filled her with rage.

“He’s a busy man, Dr. Browning. You know that. I won’t keep you. Have a good rest of your night.”

“You do the same, Mrs. Moore.”

Pearline entered her home, quickly shrugging off her coat to hang on a rack and she took a seat on a wine red chesterfield ottoman within the front foyer of her home to remove her boots. The rain had turned to drizzle by the time she returned home. Pearline wore one of many silky slips, a scandalous choice for wear in public, but she was on a mission.

Pearline lived in one of few luxury homes in The Delta with her husband, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. It was surrounded by rolling hills and they had their own greenhouse where Pearline enjoyed spending time sipping herbal tea and tending to her botanical garden. Stack had it built for her as an anniversary gift because he knew how much it meant to her. Reminding her of days spent with her grandmother. A Botanist and Holistic Nurse.

Pearline entered her kitchen and sat her grocery bag down on her dining table. She scanned the mess she’d created hours before, old photos cut into pieces, scattered along the floor. Her husband’s dress shirt resting over a dining chair with lipstick stains on the collar. A gut wrenching reminder of what Stack had put her through.

Pearline was every man’s dream girl. She’s beautiful, can sing, built like a brick house, and smart. She’d turned down many boys, all except Elias Moore. He was a little older than her by nine years, but when he set his eyes on her, he made it his business to court her. Stack was a man that moved with a carefree personality. He joked and smiled and charmed everyone in his path. Deep dimples and a smooth tongue.

The opposite of his stoic, quiet, observant brother. Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore was known for bringing the smoke; the smoldering heat. You didn’t want to get to close for comfort and cross him. Smoke had no problems laying you out with a gun or his fists. You’d think he was made of railroad steel and cast iron.

Pearline was drawn to Stack’s playful energy and the amount of passion and chemistry they shared was like no other. Pearline didn’t care that she was falling head over T-straps for a criminal, Stack made her feel special. He bought her the lifestyle she’d always dreamed of. That made women envious, especially when he married her before leaving to Chicago. They had a beautiful barn wedding where all of The Delta attended.

But, Pearline had to learn the hard way that her husband was a rolling stone. He couldn’t keep his married dick to himself. Whispers of women he bedded while vowed to Pearline sparked heated arguments and lies that rolled off his slick tongue and past his plump lips. One woman living in Little Rock, Arkansas had him by the balls.

Mary.

And her lipstick is what stained her husband’s shirt.

Pearline grew tired of crying. Tired of sleepless nights and waiting for him to return home. Tired of the manipulation and the constant drama filtering back to her. Her so–called girlfriend’s side eyed her. Her mother chastised her for being weak and not going after her man like a proper wife should.

She thought about what it would be like to make him hurt. There was no man in town that she could even think to fuck as a get back. Elias ‘Stack’ Moore and his twin are practically gods within The Delta. Sleeping with some random man would only make her look like the fool. She wanted to kick him off his high horse. And her anger drove her to buy some poison.

And bake it into a chocolate pie.

It’s a luscious chocolate custard resting on a flaky, almost salty crust, topped with a springy meringue. For Pearline, it’s la pièce de résistance and whether times are good or times are bad, it’s always welcome and appropriate.

Stack loved her chocolate pie. She made it for him once a week. If she didn’t stop him, he’d sit and eat the entire thing for himself. At first, she thought to poison his moonshine, but that would only contaminate the entire batch since he prepared it in barrels with Smoke.

Pearline put away her groceries and then she grabbed the poison, setting to work on the chocolate pie.

Ingredients for the pie:

4 tablespoons cocoa or 1 1/2 squares baking chocolate

3/4 cups sugar

5 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 egg yolks, lightly beaten

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1 tablespoon of butter

Ingredients for the meringue:

2 egg whites

1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

4 tablespoons sugar

And a splash—maybe a cup of Arsenic.

As she moved about the kitchen, the smell of rain and grass brought in by the humid wind through her open kitchen windows, an apron secure around her petite waist, Pearline hummed to calm her nerves down and stop herself from crying.

She hummed a song she’d written.

Poison was seen as a discreet way to eliminate someone, with arsenic being a particularly popular choice due to its tastelessness and ability to mimic natural illness.

No one would be able to suspect. It could be something as simple as bad moonshine.

And Stack drank a lot of it. He was well on his way to becoming the next Delta Slim.

Smoke couldn’t stop his brother, that would make him a hypocrite. He had his own addiction to smoking.

Flour painted her cheek and chocolate splattered her apron. Pearline wiped sweat from her forehead as she stared down at the pie. She placed it on a towel before washing her hands to prepare dinner.

She couldn’t believe she was going to kill her husband.

Pearline dressed in a gold silk burlesque flapper cocoon dress with batwing sleeves and a deep plunge in the front. It glided across her skin and molded into the shape of her frame as she walked, the long train dragging along behind her elegantly. Her curly hair was styled in an updo with tendrils framing her oval face. She plucked away unruly hairs from her thick brows to keep them neat and smoothed coca lip balm on her lips.

Chandelier earrings in, skin the color of espresso, she heard the front door open from her place at her vanity. She listened, making out distant laughter and the familiar sound of her husband’s voice. He wasn’t alone. Pearline took meditating breaths to calm herself. She’d already done the deed. It was only a matter of time before he cut himself a slice.

Revenge. Sweet revenge. A desire for freedom. Divorce wasn’t even an option. She wouldn’t get a penny. He needed to die and she would collect all his money and move up north. Maybe New York. Sing in the Cotton Club. Make a new life for herself.

Pearline spritzed perfume on her skin, activating the squeeze bulb, opening with dewy gardenia, its floral heart blooming with African neroli before settling into the intoxicating depth of a merlot wine accord. The essence of magnetic beauty and luminous grace.

One final look at her reflection, Pearline made her way down to the kitchen. In the living room, helping themselves to bourbon from a drink cart, were Smoke and Stack. Stack poured from a decanter, filling Smoke’s glass tumbler full. He did the same for himself. They whispered, smoke puffing on a cigarette as he nodded his head in response to Stack’s scheming words.

Smoke drew his eyes towards the stairs, eyes that took in the sight of Pearline. She looked down at him, meeting his intense gaze, looking away to focus on her husband who not once stopped to acknowledge her. It took for Smoke to nudge his little brother for Stack to finally pay attention.

That cut deep. Pearline flicked her gaze away to her feet covered in kitten heels. She released a shutter.

“Baby…”

Stack left Smoke’s side to approach Pearline. She gave him a practiced smile before opening her arms to hug him. Stack buried his face against her neck, inhaling her perfume while his hands rubbed and groped her.

“Mmm, you smelling good. Looking good too,” Stack leaned back to admire her, “Beautiful, baby,” Stack kissed her hands, “I missed ya’.”

“Missed you,” Pearline bat her lashes at him and tucked her chin with a coy smile, “You hungry?”

“I sure am. Is it aight if Smoke stay for dinner?”

Pearline drew her attention to Smoke. He perched himself against the fire place, lighting the end of his cigarette, orange flame vibrant. He looked at her with this expression that Pearline couldn’t quite understand. He was always unreadable.

“Only if it’s okay with you, sis–in–law,” Smoke spoke with a rasp.

“Of course.”

Pearline hadn’t expected an extra guest. Now, she had to figure out how to get the pie out of the way. Smoke could sense things. He’s observant. He can probably tell Pearline was being sneaky and devious. Seeing as he possesses those exact qualities. She inwardly panicked, wanting to escape from Stack’s hold to dump the pie in the garbage.

“Saw that chocolate pie in there, was about to dip my finger in it but Smoke stopped me before I could…”

Sweat trickled down her temple. She looked between both twins, smiling as best as she could and laughing in a flirty way she’d always had. Stack kissed Pearline’s lips, humming softly as he smiled.

“I got the finest woman in all the fuckin’ world.” He boisterously said, flashing his golds, “Let’s go eat us some food!”

“I’ll set the table, ya’ll go on and drink. I’ll call to supper when it’s ready…”

Pearline turned to walk away, hips switching. She couldn’t control the fact that she had a dump truck. Stack popped her on the underside of her behind, the motion causing her deep brown cakes to jiggle around. Her breath hitched and she swatted Stack’s hand away with a roll of her eyes.

She gave Smoke a sideways glance, heat rising over her face as he watched the two of them.

Pearline entered the kitchen and practically sprinted over to the pie. She exhaled with relief, glad to find it untouched. Pearline lifted the pie and hesitantly tossed it into the trash. She paced for a minute, trying her best to come up with a lie.

She choked on her words slightly as she spoke.

“I–I gotta make a new pie!”

Stack entered the kitchen with his brows pinched together.

“What? Why?”

He searched the kitchen for the pie before walking over to the trash. He lifted the lid, peering inside. The pie was on its side and sliding out of the dish.

“It–uh–it was covered in flies. I saw a couple flies on it.”

Her eyes fell on the open window.

“Must of gotten in through the window,” Pearline released a nervous laugh, “No worries, Stack, won’t take me long.”

“Damn…”

Smoke leaned against the entryway to the kitchen. He removed the cigarette from between his lips, eyes dancing back and forth between Pearline and Stack. His eyes fell to the cupboard beneath the sink, squinting slightly.

“I was looking forward to it, Pearlie. You sure you wanna make another?” Stack asked with a disappointed look.

“Won’t take me long. Promise.”

Stack sucked his teeth.

“Aight, baby…me and Smoke gone be in there listening to some tunes while we talk business. Holla when you finished.”

Stack pecked Pearline on the cheek before leaving the kitchen.

Smoke lingered.

“Errythang aight, Pearlie?” Smoke asked with a hushed tone.

“Yes. Why you askin’?” Pearline replied, eyes darting away from his.

Smoke’s eyes roamed the kitchen before focusing back on Pearline with a penetrating stare, “Listen, Stack—”

“Don’t.”

Pearline held up a shaky finger. She shut her eyes to hold back tears.

“Smoke!”

“Be there a minute, nigga. Be patient!” Smoke shouted back.

He gave Pearline one final look before leaving her alone.

She should have never thrown that pie away.

Hearing his laughter enraged her.

Knowing that he was fucking his octoroon whore inflated her anger.

What the fuck that bitch got on Pearline? What she got over her?

Privilege

Freedom

Fare skin

Loose hair

The beauty standard of America

And Stack craved it. Even though he’d fucked around with other black women, the minute Mary crossed paths with him after she returned to The Delta to bury her mom, Stack wanted that old thing back.

Pearline baked a new pie, silently crying.

But the chaos in the kitchen with her constant stomping and slamming of things had Stack’s attention.

Pearline set the table, almost breaking their fine China.

Stack took longs strides, oxfords loud as he walked.

“The fuck goin’ on, Pearlie?”

He snatched his toothpick from his mouth, glaring at her.

“Diner’s ready!”

Pearline snatched her apron off and tossed it onto the counter aggressively. Smoke trailed in behind his brother, eyes wide and unblinking. He tracked Pearline’s footsteps, jaw clenching.

“I can see the table is set,” Stack swept his concerned eyes over the plates of food, “But why you slamming shit? Got something you wanna say?”

Pearline whirled around, a look of surprise and confusion etched into her pretty face.

“ME?” She inquired with a loud tone.

“Yeah, YOU.”

“Wow…After all the shit you been putting me through. And you askin’ ME if I got something to say?!”

Smoke raised his hands to diffuse the situation.

“Let’s just eat now, aight? Save this shit for later.”

Pearline pinched the bridge of her nose. Stack sat down at the dining table. Pearline almost shivered when Smoke lightly grasped her arm to get her attention. She held his gaze, fighting hard not to break down.

“Come eat, Pearlie…”

“I’m not hungry.”

Stack’s fork and knife clattered to the table. He chewed the rest of his smothered pork chop down before turned his attention to his wife.

“Whatever it is, just say it, woman. I ain’t been messin’ around!”

“Yes you HAVEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!”

Smoke and Stack stared at her.

“Liar…fucking lying ass…piece of shit…”

Pearline opened her pantry and snatched up the shirt with lipstick stains. She marched over, balled it up, and threw it at Stack. He caught it, opening the shirt and when he noticed the lipstick stains, he froze.

“CARE TO TELL ME WHY THE FUCK YOU GOT LIPSTICK ON YOUR SHIRT?! A SHIRT I DISCOVERED WHILE TAKING IN DRY CLEANING?! A SHIRT YOU TRIED TO HIDE FROM ME?! YOU CHEATING BASTARD!”

Smoke fought to keep Pearline back. Stack stared off into space, no words, no more lies. What could he say to get himself out of this?

Pearline shouted between cries of heartbreak, “HOW COULD YOU? AFTER EVERYTHING? WHY DO YOU KEEP GOING BACK TO HER?! WHY, STACK?!”

Pearline snatched a butcher knife from the counter and launched it at Stack. He quickly pushed away from the table, the knife whizzing past his cheek and lodging in the wall. His chest rose and feel with rapid breaths. Smoke grabbed her up by her upper arms to keep her still.

“You crazy?! Tryna kill me?! That shit could’ve been in my head!!!!” Stack yelled, spit flying.

“PEARLIE! ENOUGH!” Smoke boomed.

“Get off me, Smoke!”

“You throwing knives, the hell, Pearlie?!” Smoke shook her to stop her from writhing.

“LET GO OF ME!”

Pearline slapped Smoke. Slapped him across his handsome face. He clutched his cheek that stung from her strikes.

“STOP PROTECTING HIM! HE’S A GROWN ASS MAN! YOU KNOW WHAT HE DOES AND YOU JUST LET HIM DO IT! FUCK YOU. BOTH OF YOU!”

Stack stood, tossing the shirt over his unfinished meal. He was ashamed to even look her in the eye.

“BE A MAN AND FACE ME, ELIAS! OWN IT!” Pearline laid into him with venom, “DO YOU LOVE HER?!”

“Pearlie—”

Pearline grabbed the chocolate pie and catapulted it, watching it hit Stack in the chest. He rocked back on his heels, arms outstretched, his eyes bugged out and his lips curled into a menacing pout.

“ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!!!!!!”

Pearline tried to catch her breath. Stack looked at her with wavering eyes. He titled his head down at his oxfords.

“I…Pearline…”

She gasped.

“You do…”

Smoke shut his eyes.

Stack gave her a cowardly look.

“You can’t even be a man and say it. You’re such a coward, Elias. Why did you marry me? To trap me? To have a notch on your belt? Afraid I’d find a man that really loves me? Your cracker slut is married to a cracker man In Arkansas and yet you can’t stay away from her and be loyal to me?”

Pearline clutched her chest as if she were going into cardiac distress.

“Am I not beautiful? What did I do to deserve this—”

“I have urges, baby. I’m sorry—I know it ain’t the apology ya’ want, but I…can’t control myself. I hate that I keep hurting ya’.”

“No,” Pearline shook her head as tears fell, “you ain’t sorry. You sorry you got caught.”

Pearline folded her arms over her chest. She exhaled, wiping tears away with her fingers.

She sniffled, “And the sad part is…I love you.”

She locked eyes with him. Smoke didn’t pull his attention away from her face for a second.

The grandfather clock on the wall within the living room ticked and ticked.

“I want both of ya’ll to leave.”

“Pearlie—”

“Fuck you, Elias. You don’t get to be sweet and charming. I want you to leave. NOW. Before I grab that knife from the wall, and cut your fucking dick off and feed it to you instead of this food I made!!!!!!”

Stack’s mouth was agape.

Smoke stepped aside.

Pearline made as if she were going to leave but instead she jumped on Stack, beating her fists on his back. Stack tried to grab her arms while shielding himself from being struck in the face.

“PEARLINE!”

Smoke picked her up and sat her on the counter.

“Get your shit, Stack. GO. We leaving.” Smoke ordered.

“Let her blow steam. I deserve it.” Stack said.

“Oh, so now you want her to kick your ass? She wanna kill you, nigga! Unless you wanna be scraps for pigs, I suggest you get your shit and leave!”

Stack looked from the dining table, to his wife, parting his lips to speak. Instead, he walked away, climbing the stairs to pack a luggage.

Smoke looked at Pearline, “If I let you go. Will you stay here while he gettin’ his shit?”

Pearline nodded her head slow.

Smoke released her arms and stepped back. He lit a cigarette and didn’t take his eyes off of Pearline.

“I’m real sorry, Pearlie. I know that don’t mean shit to you comin’ from me…but you don’t deserve this shit. You too good of a woman. Always been. I tried to get him to come home to you…I did…he can’t control himself with that bitch and…I hate to see ya’ hurting.”

“Smoke,” Pearline was exhausted, “You could have told me. You could have come to me. I need to be alone. Just leave. Please leave.”

She hung her head and started bawling. Her cries broke Smoke. Deep, sorrowful, body shaking. Her tears leaked to her dress. Smoke wanted to comfort her. He tried to touch her and Pearline flinched.

Stack’s footsteps caused Smoke to back off. He locked eyes with his little brother, glaring at him. Stack turned away, luggage in his hands.

Smoke allowed his eyes to sweep over her. He didn’t care if she fought him off. He didn’t care if she slapped him.

Smoke positioned himself in front of her, grabbed her face, and planted a kiss to her forehead.

That made her cry harder.

Word spread like famine.

And Pearline refused to feed into the nosy crowd.

She walked around town with her head held high and hips swaying seductively. No matter how hurt she felt, she looked ravishing.

Pearline entered The Chow’s negro store, picking up oranges and lemons, checking to see if they were a good batch before buying them. Bo Chow walked out from a room with a notepad and a pen behind his ear. Little Lisa took care of the line. Pearline helped herself to a jar of strawberry jam.

“Mrs. Moore! You’s doing alright?”

Bo pulled Pearline into a hug.

“I’m doing fine, Bo. Hello Lisa,” Pearline waved to her, “Grace good?”

“Is! She’s expecting.” Bo said with a side smile, glossy black hair falling over his forehead handsomely.

“Oh! My! Congratulations, Bo!”

Pearline beamed.

“I’m hoping for a boy this time.” Bo said.

“Just be glad for a healthy bundle of joy.” Pearline said.

She stood in line behind four people until it was her time to be helped. After paying for her items, she waved goodbye to Bo and Lisa before leaving the store.

The rain had finally stopped and in its place was that humid, Mississippi air. The sun shone down brightly, heating Pearline’s skin. She found her car and got in, heading back home.

Driving back, Pearline pulled up to her home, finding a truck she recognized immediately. Pearline stared at the truck, eyes fluttering with resentment. It’s been damn near two weeks.

Pearline couldn’t deny that she missed her husband, but at the price of her own happiness? Why should she have to put up with his constant disregard for her feelings?

It won’t last, Mary is just a phase.

She hated that she had that voice in her head.

After another minute, Pearline exited her car and with her groceries she walked up to her home. Pearline didn’t pay the truck any mind, expecting Stack to shout her name from the window and beg for forgiveness.

Instead, she caught a whiff of tobacco.

Pearline turned, eyes falling on Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore with his back against the truck. He stomped out his cigarette. He clasped his hands in front of him and over his crotch. He stared at her beyond the brim of his blue hat. Smoke pushed off his truck, one hand clutching onto the opening of his tweed suit jacket as he approached her with methodical eyes and careful steps.

A breeze picked up, ruffling the bottom of her fitted, purple, floral–printed lapel dress. She wore white T–straps on her feet, and a hat with lace gloves to match the colors in her dress. Pearls decorated her ears.

“How you be?” Smoke finally spoke.

“…I’m okay.”

Smoke stood at the bottom of the steps, staring up at Pearline.

“Stack stayin’ wit me. He not there right now.” Smoke revealed.

Pearline tilted her head, eyes searching for the inevitable truth, “He’s with her?”

Smoke rubbed his hands together, eyes roaming the ground.

“She came knockin’. He answered.”

Pearline stood still and watched Smoke.

“Say sum’, Pearlie.”

Pearline exhaled.

“I want a divorce.”

Smoke frowned slightly.

“I’m tired, Smoke. I deserve better.”

Pearline turned away from Smoke to open her door. She sat her groceries down at her feet. Smoke climbed the steps, picking up the bag. Pearline didn’t say a word. The door swung open and Smoke followed her inside. He walked past the front foyer and disappeared into the kitchen.

Pearline sat her purse down and removed her gloves and hat.

She walked into her kitchen and her footsteps slowed down when she caught Smoke putting away her food.

“Smoke, I can handle it.”

“No, no, no, now…you have a seat.”

Smoke pointed to a dining chair. Pearline took a seat, crossing her ankles modestly and folded her hands within her lap all ladylike. Her back was straight, body screaming confidently, but her eyes told a different tale. She was sad. Lonely. Torn.

Smoke opened her icebox to pour her a glass of lemonade. He then grabbed a napkin, walking over to her and placing it on the table. He removed his hat and sat it on the table. Pearline didn’t say a word as she grabbed the glass, helping herself.

“Why you come checkin’ up on me?”

Pearline searched Smoke’s eyes.

“…Because ya’ mean a lot to me.” Smoke replied.

Pearline scuffed, “Sure I do, Smoke. Poor old Pearline.”

Pearline stood, smoothing out her dress as she walked towards her pantry, grabbing a bottle of wine.

“I need something stronger…”

She drank from the bottle. Smoke watched her with a single brow raised. They sat in silence, Smoke with a cigarette and Pearline with her almost empty bottle of wine. She grew warm and relaxed, tipsy and just as sad and angry as before.

“I wonder if Stack thought of her every time he made love to me…”

He blew smoke from his nose.

“Don’t wonder. Stop thinking about it.”

Pearline rolled her eyes at Smoke.

“Serious…”

Pearline sucked on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

“Smoke, am I not good enough? I’ve done things for this man…to please him…make him happy.”

Smoke glanced at her sideways while reclined back in the dining chair, legs wide.

“What things?”

Pearline laughed bitterly, “Doesn’t matter. And it’s personal.”

“You said the shit.” Smoke replied defensively.

“I’m just talkin’. Okay? Venting.”

“And I’m here to listen. Aight?”

Pearline stared at him intently.

“…sexual things…”

Smoke hummed, “Okay…” He made a gesture for her to proceed, “And?”

“…Settled here for seven years. Dealt with all the bullshit. Rubbed his feet and massaged his shoulders. Put my dreams aside to help him fulfill his. Gave him every hole to use…”

Smoke twisted his lips as he listened.

“I thought it made him happy. I guess not.”

Smoke studies his cigarette, the wheels in his head turning.

He licked his lips, “Can I tell ya’ a secret?”

Pearline looked at Smoke curiously.

“You? Opening up?” Pearline teased.

“It’s about you. So I don’t see why not.”

Pearline shifted to face him, hip jutted out enticingly. She propped her elbow onto the table, resting her chin against her palm.

“Well?” She uttered.

“I ain’t want Stack to marry you.”

A pregnant pause.

“…what? Smoke? You serious?”

Pearline didn’t know how to interpret what Smoke revealed. She drew her thick brows together, intrigued by what he said. And the feeling of butterflies.

“Why the hell not?” Pearline questioned.

Smoke struggled to answer her question. He puffed on his cigarette, smoke billowing from between his thick lips. His hand shook slightly until he flexed his chest to gain control of his muscles. He finally met her gaze, never looking away as he parted his lips to speak.

“Cause you should’ve been mine.”

Pearline was paralyzed with shock. She couldn’t believe Elijah’s words. All this time? He’d wanted her too? No way.

“Smoke–Smoke I–I–you’ve always felt like this?”

Smoke gave her a sideways look with unwavering eyes.

“I have. Still do.”

Pearline almost dropped her wine bottle.

She shot up from her seat.

“Go, Smoke.”

Smoke rose to his feet.

“You don’t feel the same?”

Pearline couldn’t believe his words.

“NO!” She shouted with a disbelieving expression.

“I don’t believe ya’, Pearlie. The way ya’ look at me…the way ya’ always looked at me.”

“Stop…”

Pearline brushed past Smoke, climbing the stairs to her room. Her vision blurred with tears. She could hear his footsteps behind her.

“Pearlie…”

Smoke moved around her swiftly, blocking her path.

“I love you—”

“HOW DARE YOU?!”

Pearline shoved at his chest, no use because he was too solid and strong to move. Smoke watched her fire herself out before locking her wrists in his firm grip. He leaned in, eyes boring into hers like he was staring into her soul.

“Go on and beat away, Pearlie. I mean what I say. I’m in love wit’ ya. And you deserve to be happy. I care about my brother, but I ain’t gonna keep fighting this feeling. And ain’t no way I’m a let you sit up here thinkin’ you ain’t the prize.”

Pearline blinked up at Smoke. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. Softly. Delicately. Reassuringly.

“…You bastard. How dare you take advantage?”

Smoke cocked his head.

“I’m pouring my heart out, and you say that?”

Pearline slaps Smoke. Hard.

“GET. OUT.”

Smoke growled, top lip snarled.

“You gon’ stop hitting me.” He warned.

“You deserve it.” She sassed.

Smoke toward over Pearline. She jumped slightly.

“So, you don’t feel the same?” Smoke’s husky voice challenged her.

“No.” Pearline replied, looking down his body with a slow sigh.

Smoke stood firm. Pearline peered up at him.

“…I’ll leave. But I’m still keepin’ my eye on you.”

Smoke gave her a once over before making his way down the stairs. Pearline’s chest heaved up and down with a shaky exhale.

Some nights later, Pearline got dressed to perform a new song she’d written titled Pale Pale Moon. She spent majority of the day emptying the closets and drawers of Stack’s things, part of her wanting to burn them but deciding it wasn’t worth it. Instead, drove down to a local thrift store and dropped the bags off without a backward glance.

He’d taken the things that meant more to him. His money. His jewelry. Leaving behind the one person he vowed never to leave. She’d done enough crying herself to sleep. And yet she couldn’t get Smoke out of her head. His confession.

Pearline deep down admired Smoke beyond him being her brother–in–law. She’d always known him to respect women and he always treated Pearline kindly. He would listen to her speak about things he didn’t understand, like how to grow certain flowers. He always took up for her, checked in on her, and stared at her with What Pearline now understood as deep affection.

She was seen with Smoke.

That’s all she ever wanted.

“Stop talking to her like that, Stack for I beat ya’ ass.”

“You ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, Pearlie.”

“You just as important to me, Pearlie.”

Everything he’d ever said to her. Every hug, every smile, every look. All of it was much more. Much deeper.

Messenger’s gave her a standing ovation.

Delta Slim and his band played to the words of Pale Pale Moon.

Pearline felt alive. Her lush skin so smooth like the sultry blues music.

She needed a distraction from Smoke.

But his words the other day…

He told her that he was in love with her. Told her to her face and with no shame.

Pearline was dropped off by a friend to her home since she’d been drinking. She waved goodbye before entering, shutting and locking the door behind her. Pearline braced herself against the wall, removing her shoes. She walked the length of her front foyer and the sound of a lighter flickering caused her to grab a vase, ready to lunge it at whoever broke into her home.

Vase raised above her head, she turned the corner.

“Who’s there—”

Standing tall and wearing a soft blue shirt rolled up his arms and black slacks, was Smoke.

“You broke into my house?”

Smoke dug into his pocket, swinging a key ring in front of her face.

“Put that shit down before you break it.” Smoke ordered.

“Why should I? You show up unannounced.”

Smoke took it upon himself to take it from her. Pearline didn’t fuss. Smoke placed it back where she’d gotten it from.

“You performed at Messenger’s?”

Pearline’s eyes swept over his body. She drew her shoulders back, strutting past him, removing the silk scarf draped over the front of her neck and down her back. Smoke caught it before it hit the floor. He folded it neatly and placed it on the coffee table, patting it with his fingertips. Pearline gazed at him.

“You look lovely, Pearlie.”

“What do you want, Smoke?” Pearline asked with an exasperated look.

“The truth.”

“It’s late. You can see yourself out…”

Pearline crossed her arms and poked her hip out.

Smoke motioned towards the kitchen with his head, “What that arsenic for?”

Pearline’s arms dropped.

“Mhm,” He puffed on his cigarette, “You tried to poison my brother with that pie.”

Pearline exhaled, “I did. No use in lying. Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped him from sampling it.” Pearline replied with her voice laced with unshed tears, “Don’t matter, I ain’t gonna poison him.”

“Cause of me.”

“So? I chickened out, Smoke.”

“Why you keeping it?” Smoke probed with narrow eyes.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Pearlie…” Smoke clenched his jaw, “I care about ya’…And I need to know if ya’ feeling the same.”

Pearline bounced her foot.

“You won’t stop unless I tell you…”

Pearline locked eyes with Smoke.

“Smoke..I…I should have picked you. Then I know I’d be treated better.”

A single tear fell.

“You can still chose me—”

“It’s too late for that. Won’t do us any favors acting on those feelings, now would it?”

Smoke disagreed.

“It’ll do us more than just a favor, baby…”

Pearline nibbled on her bottom lip.

Smoke strolled up on Pearline. Her breath hitched, eyes closing when his body pressed against hers. He placed a hand on the nape of her neck, tilting her head. Smoke leaned in, closing the distance between them. Pearline parted her lips ever so slightly, giving Smoke and entry. His fluffy lips touched hers with uncertainty. Pearline snaked her hands up his chest and secured her arms around his shoulders.

Smoke intensified the kiss. Soft pecks turned into open–mouthed movements. Pearline’s skin tingled with desire. Smoke’s chest bloomed with passion. He’d longed to taste her. He regretted not making a move on Pearline when he should have. His little brother had always been the smooth talker, the lady magnet.

The sound of lips smacking and soft breaths.

The feel of his rough hands gliding over her hips to grab ass.

Pearline pulling him in closer with her hands clutching onto his shirt.

They kissed their way towards the stairs. Smoke broke away from her lips to pick Pearline up. She wrapped her legs around him, diving in for more. Their tongues battled for dominance as Smoke climbed up the stairs. They stumbled, knocked against walls, and snatched off each other’s clothes all the way to her room.

“I need you,” Pearline whispered longingly.

“I’m here…I’m right here…”

Pearline wiggled out of Smoke’s arms and she dropped to her knees in a flash. He snatched off his shirt and watched her pull his belt from the loops. She tossed it to the floor and with her eyes on his, Pearline opened his zipper and unbuttoned his pants.

“Let me pleasure you, Elijah.”

“Go on, bring him out.” Smoke commanded.

Pearline did just that. She hummed sensuously. It was heavy in her hand and warm to the touch. She jerked him a little, watching the way he licked his lips down at her. Pearline wrapped her lips around his head and started sucking with no hands.

“Ahhh, fuck…”

Pearline gathered spit on her tongue as she sucked. Smoke watched like he was staring down at a circus act. Pearline was doing tricks he ain’t never experienced in his thirty plus years on earth. She made spit bubbles and slurped it back up. Her tongue curled around his shaft like a slick tentacle. She would pop her lips off and spit on it. Over and over. Getting down right disgusting like some street walker.

“This how you do it, Pearlie? FUCK.”

She attacked his balls with gusto. Moaning and whimpering with a mouth full of his nuts and big dick. Smoke couldn’t believe his eyes. He guessed the saying pretty girls love sucking dick that his little brother always said was true. He had a woman at home that did it like this? Ain’t no other woman come close to Pearline.

“Pearlie…don’t stop…”

She inhaled his dick and stroked him with two hands. Bawdy blues and all. Smoke weaved his fingers through her soft curls and controlled her movements. He fed her mouth some dick since she worked so hard to make him cum. His eyes turned puppyish and he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth.,

“I’m a cum so fucking hard!”

Pearline did a disappearing act with his dick. Smoke almost saw heaven. He grunted deep with his release. Not a single drop wasted.

He stared at her as she licked him clean. He backed away, slapping his tip on her wet tongue.

“So nasty wit’ it. You suck me like I’m ya’ man.”

“I’m passionate about giving, Smoke. It’s my favorite job,” Pearline licked her lips, eyes staring at his dick like it was made of the purest gold, “Especially when it’s nice and big like this. One thing about me,” Pearline stroked him and tongue kissed his tip between words, “I was known for being the best dick sucker. I’m not ashamed to admit…when you’re good at something,” Pearline ran her tongue from base to tip, “you keep going…and going…”

“Dayum…”

She was sucking on him again. Smoke stroked her face, caressed her hair, told her how pretty she looked, and moaned her name.

“You nice and thick in my mouth again, Elijah. Wanna give me what I’m workin’ so hard for?” She teased.

“Pearline! Ahhhh…”

She gulped his cum down again, giggling at his face.

“Get up.”

Smoke didn’t wait for Pearline to do it, he picked her up himself. Smoke spun her around and let his hands explore her naked body. Toned and thick at the same time. He watched her ass recoil beneath his palm, chocolate ass bouncing like jello.

“All this body…I’d handle ya’ ass erryday.” Smoke talked slickly.

“How would you handle me, Papa?”

That papa drove him crazy.

“I’d bend ya’ over…stick my tongue in ya’ pucker and ya’ cat…make ya’ suck my dick outta my sleep…after a hard day,” Smoke whacked her on the butt, “Then I’d make nasty, messy, love to ya’ baby…all over this fuckin’ house…”

Smoke picked Pearline up and placed her on the bed. She crawled away from him and he followed like a predator to his prey, nibbling on her flesh with his teeth, licking the soles of her feet. She got on all fours and dipped her back like a feline. Smoke put his face in it, suffocating himself on purpose. Pearline moved her hips, riding his face.

“Smoke…” she moaned, “Just like that…eat Stack’s pussy…”

“This ain’t his no more…”

Pearline whimpered.

“It’s yours?”

“All mines, baby. All this twangy pussy…”

“Shiiittttt…”

Smoke resurfaced, growling. He put his face in it again and growled some more. Pearline arched her back and cried out when Smoke jabbed her entrance with a pointed tongue.

“I can’t see you…I need to see how you doin’ that, Papa…”

Smoke couldn’t agree more. He flipped Pearline over and she opened up so wide her hips ached.

“Can’t get no wider than that, baby…so eager…”

“Feast on me, Papa…let me watch…” Pearline begged.

Jagged, labored, and sharp breaths escaped her mouth. Smoke’s handsome face and those juicy lips munched on Pearline’s pussy with gluttony, exactly what she wanted to see from her position on her back. His eyes are low like he was high off of her tangy taste and his lips and tongue moved in sync with each other. Pearline tightened her vaginal muscles around his fingers that were seated deep in her pussy and just like that, she leaked on his tongue. As long as his tongue, lips, and fingers stay on her she’ll give him what he wanted.

“Your pussy is so pretty and tight, baby…” Smoke takes two fingers to gently stroke her cum covered inner lips with an enthralling and spellbinding expression on his face, bottom lip all pouty, and golds on display, “I’ll take care of ya’ Pearlie…anything ya’ need…ya’ pussy ate up…fucked real good…spoiled…loved on the proper way…I’m there…”

Pearline held her legs up like Smoke instructed. She begged for him to eat her pussy. Smoke wanted to taste that twat, taste the mixture of salty sweetness. The way Pearline moved like a feline on stage, captivating the audience, hips gyrating and ass moving in a slow motion, smoke wanted to dig his tongue in it and sample it. He wanted her to do all that on his tongue and his dick.

“I think these inches about right for ya’, huh?” His onyx eyes flicker up to gaze at her. The way his irises looked, she can feel his eagerness to fuck the shit out of her instantaneously. No words needed, just his eyes doing the talking. Pearline nodded her head slowly before chewing on her bottom lip. 

“Smoke,” Pearline started pushing her pussy against his tongue, humping as Smoke wiggled it and sucked away, “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!”

Her musk crowded his nose and grew stronger the more she creamed.

“That’s right…feed me this good pussy…”

“As tasty as you are…mmm,” Smoke showed her just how delicious she is, “Don’t you worry, Pearlie, I’ll give you what you deserve…”

“I…I–I deserve it…” Pearline struggled to form words between moans.

She stilled her hips so he could suck her up. Pearline gasped, hands shaking and unsure if she wanted to grab his head or the sheets.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—”

Smoke’s rattling breaths fanned her pussy. He licked his lips and stared at the beautiful flower before his eyes with an intoxicating gaze. He covered her inner thighs with soft kisses, listening to her calm breaths. He stared up the valley of her glistening body.

“I need you on top, Pearlie…”

Smoke gets up to sit on the end of the bed, helping Pearline climb on top of him. His large hand is on the back of her head, pushing her face towards his so he could make her taste his lips. Smoke smirked as he kissed her, slipping his skillful tongue into her mouth so she could taste that sweet pussy all over his taste buds. All you could hear was the slurping of lips and heavy breathing.

Pearline fumbled with his pants, his lips fighting to keep kissing her and each time she pulled on the fabric his fat dick would jump and brush against her pussy lips. Finally, skin-to-skin contact. Smoke’s muscular thighs, heavy balls, and that thick dick. Pearline didn’t even wait, as soon as his pants were pushed past his dick she squatted over him while his toned hips pushes his dick up to meet her.

“Elijah…” Pearline grabbed onto his shoulders.

All she can feel is solid, throbbing, long girth entering her from beneath. Her inner lips all the way to her clit pulsates with need. Smoke continued to pump her pussy at a slow pace with his hand reaching up to grip her throat. Pearline’s eyes are focused between her legs and she watched with awe at the seductive motion of his hips burying his dick deeper and deeper...his abdominal muscles crunched and the more noise her pussy made, Smoke’s thrust deepened.

She was staring back and forth from his dick to his face with a delusional expression—still in disbelief about how much dick this man possesses. Identical to his brother. Pearline is still in shock that she was fucking her brother–in–law. She let out a gasp and her head goes back so far Smoke had to cradle it. The closer Smoke pulls her body towards him, her erect nipples brush his lips. He opens his mouth wide, his long, thick tongue showing both stiff peaks some attention before gently sucking it.

He had her slim waist in a firm position as he rocked her up and down his dick. It was a sensual dance.

“Why you fuckin’ me like you love me?” Pearline whispered.

“Cause I do love ya’…”

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Pearline whined.

It was too late for that.

“I’m ��bout to tear that ass up,” Smoke warned her with a forceful, guttural voice. He picked Pearline up by her waist and turned her around, “Spread your fucking thighs...c’mon, baby, open that pussy up I need that shit so bad...yessss...got this pussy driving me crazy, Pearlie...this wet ass pussy...make love to this pussy all fucking day, baby…”

“Oh, my goodness!”

"Pussy getting wetter with papa’s fat dick up in it?” 

Pearline moaned in response. This was the most vocal Smoke had ever been. He couldn’t wait to have her.

"Pearlie…fuck…" Smoke moaned, "darling...I swear to God,...do you know how I’d kill to be up in this? Huh? Make you mines...I’m stroking it…all this wet pussy wrapped around my fucking dick...alla ‘dis ass? dassit baby...fuck on daddy like that…”

Pearline couldn’t help herself as she leaned over, ass high while she rode Smoke’s dick in reverse cowgirl. She looked back at him, curls in her face and heart racing from the workout she was giving her pussy. She could feel Smoke’s fingers graze her ass cheeks before they were on lower lips. Pearline’s peach fuzz tickled his thumbs as he spread heropen so that he could watch the way his dick pushed past her swollen vulva, producing more cream. 

“Damn, Pearlie…it’s like ya’ pussy been wanting this dick…you’re so wet…”

“Unh, yes—”

“Ohhh, you work it like that, huh? That’s how you riding this daddy dick?” Smoke groaned and it made your clit twitch. 

“You makin’ this dick hella sloppy,” Smoke said and she heard the obstacle in his voice to hold his nut off. Pearline was working the tip of his dick now, all that beautiful dark skin and the muscles in her back mesmerizing him.

“Elijah…” Pearline moans, but it’s so low with how loud her pussy is.

Smoke was in a trance watching her ass bounce and clap against his crotch each time she came down on his dick. The cotton candy pink center in contrast with her deep brown skin made him salivate.

“Ooh—”

“Papa hittin’ that spot? Yeah? Here, lemme hit it for ya’ some more.. ooh, baby, ya’ takin' it…there ya’ go…hmmmm, pussy is yankin’ me...here some more dick for, ya’…”

Pearline looked back and saw the intensity in his eyes and then she could feel his dick in her stomach. Her face felt tight and hot and the heat from Smoke’s body had her shimmery skin sweating. Pearline felt tears pricking her eyes and her mouth fell open, drooling with lust. This shit was too good. 

“Ima cum on this dick, Papa!”

“Gon’ head that’s what the fuck I want,” Smoke said menacingly, “Where the fuck is it?!”

“Ohhhhhhh, Shit—”

“Bounce on that dick…just like that…bring that ass down on me, girl...ahhhh, fuck…you do it so nasty on this wood, girl...so fucking nasty. Been wanting me to fuck ya’ tail up…you like fucking the other twin, baby?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Pearline’s ass flopped down in Smoke’s lap, her walls like a tight capsule squashing his dick for dear life.

“Fuck, Pearlie…”

Smoke stood with his dick still buried inside of her and turned her around with her back arched, knees on the bed, and feet hanging over the edge. His eyes swept over her body as he spread her cheeks apart. Pearline glanced back, eyes lowering between his legs. Thick. Veins pulsing. She reached behind to spread her creamy folds for him. Their eyes met and he purposely sank into her agonizingly slow. 

“I love the way you moan when I push all this daddy dick deep inside of you…” Smoke pulled out, doing it again, “Like ya’ singing the blues to me…”

“It makes my pussy feel so full, Papa...I love the way you fuck me...it feels so good, baby, don’t stop stroking me…”

“You love knowing you fuckin’ Smoke, huh?”

Pearline’s warm, wet, tight pussy gripped his dick and when she reached back to grab for his balls, she couldn’t believe how heavy they were. If he keeps going at a slow pace like this, making her pussy cream and sound like this, Smoke gon’ erupt and make a large mess all in his sister–in–law’s pussy.

His hands were slapping her ass around to let her know she made his dick feel good with the loving he was giving her. It was deep and his words were nasty but his strokes were patient and savoring—like he wanted to stay in her married pussy as long as he could and make her moan as much as her voice box can produce. 

His thick dick is slow and torturous sliding in and out her, pussy lips snug around the head of his dick every time he enters her. Smoke would slide all the way in, her pussy making all kinds of noises, then he would pull all the way out. Pearline knew why he was doing this—sliding in and pulling out. He loved the way his wide tip pushed past her walls. He loved the warmth and her juices making his dick all sticky.

He was taking his time, learning the hole his brother fucked, the pussy his little brother neglected. Smoke could only imagine slippery and sticky Pearline could make his dick. She was creaming and oozing out with each stroke and it’s all over his dick and balls.

“You like it messy, yeah?” Pearline asked with a gasp in between. 

“Arch that fuckin’ back.” That was his response. 

“Like this, Papa?” She whispered as she pointed that plump ass further in the air, shaking it a little for him, “I want you to hit the bottom of this wet pussy...hold it there and feel me squeeze that dick…”

“Pearlie…”

“You like it messy, make your pussy cum—”

Smoke grunted.

“This shit mines? I thought you said we ain’t suppose to be doin’ this here?”

Pearline whimpered when he pushed deep enough for her to feel pressure. He was playing with her. She loved it.

“We ain’t…it’s wrong…”

Smoke hooked his hand around the front of her neck and he peered down at her with a mug on his face.

“I shouldn’t be fuckin’ my pussy? Thought ya’ wanted this dick?”

Smoke gave her two forceful strokes as a reminder. Pearline’s eyes crossed. He did it again, watching her face contort in the vanity mirror across from them.

“Talk to me, baby. Want it?”

“Yes, yes, please, give it to me…”

His punishing strokes hit Pearline out of nowhere, knocking the wind out of her chest and tearing her guts up. 

She continued her shit-talking while her ass clapped back on him, “Yes, Elijah, fuck this pussy, take it, I’m a cum all over that dick...fat dick making me cum right now...oh my God…that big dick making me cum right now…uhhhhhhhhhhh…”

She was cut off from Smoke’s hand on the back of her neck, pushing her face down into the mattress. 

“This fuckin’ pussy...I’ll get ya’ knocked up, baby. I swear I will.”

Her lips parted and she started drooling on the bed. 

“I know you feel these nuts banging that clit...that’s what I’m talkin ‘bout.”

“SMOKE!”

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” Smoke teased. 

He was beating her walls out.

“Don't you ever think you ain’t special...look at all this…you ain't playing with no lil’ boy…you know what a beast can do to ya’ sexy ass…”

Smoke was reminding her that this is what she’ll be getting tonight, the next morning, the day after that…

Smoke pulled out and rubbed her clit back and forth with his dick, and all she could remember before seeing stars was pushing out a fountain from her pussy—wetting up the sheets, the hardwood, and Smoke. He kept going, his dick rubbing her swollen clit back and forth. 

“This pussy is too fat and juicy...wet pussy dripping...making a fucking mess on this dick...keep it up and I’m sucking on ya’ pussy again.” 

“Please…I wanna feel your lips again, Papa.”

Smoke groaned.

He got down behind Pearline and ate to his hearts desire. She reached around and grabbed his head. Smoke massaged her ass while french kissing her pussy from the back. Loud, smacking of the lips.

“You think you can steal this pussy from your brother every night?” Pearline dirty talked.

Smoke’s tongue worked harder. When he was finished, Pearline turned over onto her back, thighs spread and knees to her chest with her fingers pushing her puffy folds back to show him where he needed to nut. 

“Clean Big Papa dick off first,” Smoke is knelt on the bed near her face. All she can see hovering above her is the underside of his dick and his balls. Pearline extended her neck, mouth wide and tongue flicking before grabbing him by the balls. Mouth engulfing him, Smoke swipes two fingers over his tongue before bringing them to her clit while she sucked.

“Get that motherfucker nice and wet too, baby…”

Her lips pop off his dick, “Drain that dick in me, Papa.” 

“Shit, get ya’ pregnant? Pearlie don’t say sum shit that’ll get ya’ in trouble…let my dick go.”

Pearline’s lips left Smoke’s tip. She looked up at him with glossy eyes.

“I wanna cum like this,” Pearline spread her thighs so far that her feet touched the bed on either side of her. Smoke walked around and between her legs, his erection in hand, jerking downward to open his slit and show her his tasty pre-cum. 

“Damn...my dick...shit so stiff I could bust from the sight of ya’ pretty ass,” Smoke was back inside of her, “ima always have ya’...ya’ love me, girl?”

The gruff tone mixed with his words has her breath uneven and her heartbeat a little faster.

“...Wha?” Pearline was astounded. He was still sexing her missionary, her body moving back and forth against the bed in time with his strokes. 

“I said...do ya’ love me?” His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were serious. 

“...Yesss…” Pearline turns her head away because now she can’t look at him as her tears begin to cloud her vision. Smoke wasn’t having that. He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. His brows are furrowed and his lips are parted.

“I love ya’. I love you and I ain’t letting ya’ go...I want ya’ to remember that and take every fucking word I’m saying seriously, Pearlie.”

Smoke’s lip had curled up and his eyes were so intense that she could literally feel them burning into hers.

“Do ya’ understand me, girl? I fucking love you...”

Pearline weeped. Smoke’s tongue found its way to her nipples and he starts sucking each one softly. His patience. It didn’t matter how long it took for him to finally have her, he made that his mission. Her happiness means the world to him. She had moments of insecurity but his reassurance makes her realize it doesn’t matter. He dreams of all the ways he can take care of her, how he would treat her better and love her better. She’d wake up happy knowing she was properly taken care of. She’d feel more at home with him than she ever felt with Stack. And she believed him.

Smoke buries his face against her neck and with his hands wrapped around her shoulders to keep her still and his hips pistoning in and out, Pearline can feel him pushing all the love that he could deep inside of her.

She locked her ankles around him and shut her eyes tight to stop her tears. He was licking, sucking, and biting all over her neck. Pearline continuously gasps in his ear with each deep thrust of his. Her hand is on his firm ass and she start forcing his hips down even more.

“Dig fucking deeper,” She whispers to him. 

“Dayum...dayum,” He groaned in her ear, “Pearlie…I wanna cum inside of ya’!”

“Yes!”

“I’m about to bust this shit wide open—”

Her mouth went wide with ecstasy and Smoke’s hand was on the back of her head to watch her face while he forced himself deep inside, stopping at the precise moment he heard her try to utter a sound before doing it all over again and making her eyes roll. Smoke kissed and nibbled along her jaw. Her pussy didn’t make no sense to him.

Pearline felt the same about his dick. He was really stretching her out and the way his biceps trembled she knew he was about to cum heavy and hard. Pearline widened her legs for him some more. Smoke brought her ankles up to rest on his shoulders and he lifted to his hands, dropping dick off in her.

“It’s right here for you...cum in your pussy, Papa...this your pussy,...this your pussy, Papa...this your pussy—”

“Take my cum...take all my cum up in this pussy...ahhh...shit...I got more for ya’...that’s it...goddamn this pussy won’t let me go...keep cumming—”

Pearline could feel the sensation of his cum filling her pussy up and that’s when her own orgasm extended from the bottom of her pussy all the way up to the surface and made her spasm beneath him. It was fucking, but with so much affection for each other. Smoke eases out of her and even with him not there she still felt stretched out and aching. Smoke is on his back next to her, his dick still rigid. Pearline turns to the side, one leg coming up to rest on top of his while her feet rubbed against his inner thigh. She looked up to see Smoke staring at her—just studying her face.

“I love you.”

Pearline’s shyness took over. The intensity in his eyes. She knew he meant it.

“You really love me?” Pearline asks with a shaky and sweet voice.

“Real shit, baby...real shit.”

She beamed and hid her face. Smoke chuckled.

“I can’t believe we just had sex.”

“We made love, Pearlie.” Smoke corrected.

The harsh reality of what just happened loomed over her.

“…What does this mean?” Pearline asked with a small voice.

“It means whatever ya’ want it to mean…but just know, I can make ya’ happy, Pearlie. Let me love ya’.”

Pearline sits up.

“Smoke…if Stack finds out—”

“So what?”

“You came in me! What if I get pregnant? We ain’t had sex in months! He would know!”

“Pearlie…”

Smoke stilled her. Pearline locked eyes with him. Smoke tried to find the words to say.

“What is it, Smoke?”

He was crestfallen.

“Pearlie…Stack…Stack been seeing Mary more…cause he thinking of how to get her away from Arkansas without her husband finding out she pregnant.”

Pearline cocked her head back. A fresh wave of tears swam in her eyes.

“W-what? What you sayin’? She pregnant with his baby? Smoke? No…no, no, no, no—”

Smoke wrapped his arms around Pearline.

“You knew all this time?!—”

“She just found out. She came to tell him. Pearlie…”

Smoke lifted her into his lap. He allowed her to cry, stroking her back and kissing her hair. She cried for a while, shaking against him. Smoke stared down at her, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“Pearlie?”

“…I should have killed him.”

Pearline sat up in Smoke’s lap. She had this far away look in her eyes.

“Stack a grown man. I can’t keep blaming you for his faults, Smoke. You’ve done enough to protect him and look after him. He never knew how to watch his own back without you being there…”

Smoke dropped his eyes. Pearline finally looked at him. She tilted his chin up, her eyes flicking from his face to his chest.

“Why didn’t you steal me from him? Why did you let him take me away from you?” Pearline contested with a knot in her throat.

“…why did ya’ have to fall in love wit’ him instead of me?” Smoke brazens.

Pearline held his gaze, even as tears streamed from her eyes.

“It should have been you.”

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[friendlyneighborhoodslut]

The Roommate Agreement | 3-The Agreement.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Three boys and one girl under one roof proves to be more difficult than they thought. To restore peace in the land, an agreement is made.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking and smoking, bugs, sexual tension, MDNI-18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Jesse was a very messy individual when he lived in 406D. The baseboards are caked with dust, the windows have a strange film on them and the carpet is littered with mysterious stains. I spend several days deploying an arsenal of chemicals to tackle the mess, windows open and chill August air drafting through the room. After a particularly grueling day on my hands and knees scrubbing at the spots on the floor to very little prevail, I decide that a quick spray of disinfectant before covering it with a rug is my best bet. I dig through the closet in the hallway for a broom to dust the cobwebs in the corners, coming up empty-handed.

“Boys,” I breathe, entering the living room. The three of them sit in the living room, smooshed onto the couch and flipping through TV channels. They perk up to look at me. “Where’s the broom?”

“In the trash, along with the mop after Eddie and Jesse used them to joust,” Steve says casually, clicking buttons on the remote.

“I won, by the way,” Eddie grins, pointing at himself.

Steve looks to him, bewildered. “You did not.”

“Right. I’ve gotta go check on the storage unit anyways so, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some furniture and supplies that are for cleaning only,” I give Eddie a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll take my car,” Ben stands, brushing some crumbs off his shirt from the chips he was munching on.

“Your little Mazda’s not gonna fit everything…” I trail off, raising my brow at Eddie.

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So we all hate Gloria until she’s useful,”

“You named the van? You weirdo.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the TV.

The van—Gloria—really is a disgrace to motor vehicles everywhere. It’s a death box on wheels. I’m pretty sure the engine is powered by dust and spite, and it’s got this rattle when left idling for too long. I’m not sure how a mechanic lets his own car get so out of shape—But Gloria’s got space, and we’re gonna need it.

“Alright, fine. But no one drives my babygirl but me, so… I’m coming with you,” Eddie stretches out of his seat.

Steve stands too, running his hands through his hair. I swallow hard and try not to stare at them.

“Our first adventure as a family, how exciting!” Eddie exasperates dramatically, arms outstretched at his sides.

“Shut up, man.” Steve snickers, grabbing Eddie’s keys out of a glass bowl by the front door and tossing them at him. Eddie catches the keys, blowing a kiss to Steve afterwards, earning him a cacophony of groans and eye rolls.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The car wobbles side to side, tossing me around in my seat. Eddie swerves all over the road like a maniac, dodging pot holes and probably a few stray animals. Ben sits in the front seat, yelling at him. Steve and I occupy the back seat on opposite sides. My whole body burns and tingles, my palms sweat as I chew on my nails and stare out the window. I swear can feel his eyes on me but I’m too terrified to look, as I might just combust on sight if I’m right.

It’s been a century since I’ve had a crush on someone. I’ve forgotten how miserable it is: constantly checking that my hair looks okay, hoping my makeup hasn’t smudged, scared to even breathe wrong.

This sucks ass.

A massive cement building comes into view and we pull into the parking lot. The department store is surprisingly empty on this Sunday afternoon, and Ben tells me it’s because most people in Chicago are already out drinking this time of day.

Steve pipes in with his agreement and I make the mistake of stealing a look at him. I just can’t help myself, but I immediately regret it. He’s already looking at me, hair tussled to one side and mustard sweater bunched up at his midsection as he leans against the backrest, lips parted slightly and staring at me with those big brown eyes.

I’m doomed.

The vacant isles of the store are illuminated by an uncomfortable white light that occasionally flickers. I feel like we’re in a low-budget horror movie, an unsettling and eerie feeling sitting thick over the air. Feeling suffocated, I pick up my pace towards the Home and Kitchen section.

“Look at this fuckin’ thing,” Eddie says like a child discovering something for the first time, slapping a giant fuzzy rug hung on a rack. It wiggles under his pressure and he’s transfixed, disregarding our existence.

I shake my head. “Never shopped for rugs before. Where do I even begin?”

Ben gives me a breathy laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “I'll look for one and make him haul it to the car. Any color preferences?”

I shrug. “Cheapest one. And uh, don’t let him pick something stupid,” I find amusement in Eddie’s antics, and he clearly does as well.

“Harrington, you're on furniture duty,” Ben puts on his best serious face, pointing at his best friend like a drill sergeant. He jogs backward, disappearing into the rug aisle. "Don't screw it up!" echos through the halls, dampened by the walls of carpet, lampshades and throw pillows.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and swaying in place.

He gleams down at me, arms open at his sides. "What's first?"

I rub my eyes, needing to do something with my hands despite it smudging what little makeup I had the energy to put on today. "Pray to any God willing to listen that this doesn't permanently annihilate my bank account." Joking usually helps me feel better about situations like this, but this time it's just straight-up depressing.

But Steve, ever a ray of sunshine, breaks through my gloom with his light. "It's not all that bad. Let's see... what do we need?" He spins around, taking it all in. "Bed, nightstand, dresser, all that stuff right? You'll need a bed tonight, that's non-negotiable--but I've got a friend who owns a thrift shop on The Loop with her girlfriend. They're always getting furniture in there. Bet they'd let us snag some stuff at a good price," he's rambling now, talking with his hands as we stroll the rows of overpriced furniture.

I just listen to him talk, the sound of his voice entrancing.

God, I've got to get away from this man.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate it," I smile meekly, reaching to mess with my hair but stopping myself right before.

"Anytime, Sunny." he responds quietly, and butterflies assault my stomach.

I want to ask him about the nickname, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. Honestly, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle the--probably dull--answer either. I like to think it means something, but the likely case is that it's a placeholder; An easy gateway to forgetting me when my residence in Apartment 406D comes to an end. It's not like I'll be spending the rest of my life with these guys. My brother, sure, not that I've had much of a choice. I'm stuck with that jerk until I die.

Steve and I pick out the cheapest--yet somehow still outrageously priced--bed and mattress the store offers. Steve rolls them out on a bright yellow cart provided by the cashier. The others have obviously been waiting for a while, as Eddie smokes a cigarette under a streetlamp a few feet away while Ben leans against the outside of the passenger door skimming through a packet of papers.

I squint against the encroaching darkness, making out the big University Housing Office title through the transparent page.

If your stomach can physically drop into your ass, mine definitely just did.

"Oh, shit," I use my last bit of breath to whisper to Steve.

He pauses to observe my brother's scowl. "He looks pissed."

For the second time in a week, I accept my death.

Ben hears us approach and looks up at me through his eyebrows. There he goes, looking like our dad again. I tremble.

I'm fucked.

He waves the packet in the air. "What's this?"

Steve leaves the cart next to the van and retreats to Eddie, leaving my brother and I to talk.

Traitor, don't leave me here!

"I was gonna tell you," I lie.

He glowers. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, you're right, I weren't," I blurt out in distress. "Fuck, wasn't. No, I wasn't gonna tell you,"

"You realize I'm a lawyer, right? I can help you contest this," he offers.

"You're a baby lawyer and you've done enough for me by letting me live in your house," I counter.

His features soften and then, to my complete shock, he laughs. I'm apprehensive, waiting for him to pull out his typical disapproving glare and snide remarks that remind me I’ll never be as smart, cunning, or on top of things as he is.

"Trust me, Bug. You moving in does me a more of a favor than it does you," he tugs on my shoulder, gently directing me to look at Eddie and Steve. He points at them as we watch them visibly argue about something, only catching the tail end of their dispute.

"Goddammit Harrington! Do it or I'm gonna kiss you myself!" Eddie threatens, tensing in a wide stance. I furrow my brows and wonder what on earth they must be discussing.

Steve puts his hands out in front of him, bracing himself. "God, you're so weird! Why would you say that?!"

Eddie lurches forward and Steve takes off down the parking lot. They chase each other around light posts and parked cars.

"...is this a frequent occurrence?" I ask Ben quietly. I swear anytime I see those two in the same room they're bullying each other or…flirting? Challenging each other? I don’t even know.

He nods. "Oh yeah. They've been friends since high school. More siblings than friends, if I'm bein' honest. Guess they uh, both lost a lot of people back home. Came to Chicago together for a fresh start,"

We're both quiet for a long minute, listening to their voices echo through the desolate parking lot.

"Yeah, you're saving me from living alone with those two. We needed another adult in the house," Ben cackles, swinging the van door open. He wiggles the papers between us. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"

I purse my lips and nod, blinking rapidly to avoid spilling any tears. He frowns and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The tenseness in his body loosens a bit but not enough to break down the walls he's built, but I'll take the progress, as he creeps a little closer to feeling like the big brother I remember.

"C'mon. Let's go home." ⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Ben did an excellent job picking out a mock vintage rug with an array of colors that perfectly covered all of the mystery spots on the floor. I laid it out and put books from Steve’s room at all four corners to flatten it.

After dropping Steve and me off at home, Ben and Eddie went to the storage unit to collect my things. They've been gone for hours, a suspiciously long time for the project at hand, leaving Steve and I to get three beers deep and attempt to assemble my bedframe.

"Jesus, what're these in a different language?" he murmurs, polishing off his fourth beer and lifting the instructions in the air.

"It's upside down, Steven," I can hardly contain my laughter as I say it, giggles slipping through the fingers I cover my mouth with.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, they are," he admits, turning it in his hands. "Ah! There it is,"

"That big brain got you into UChicago?" I flirt on the defensive so I can pass it off as just being mean if I need to.

He smiles, lopsided. "Can you believe it?" he jokes.

"Let me guess. History major," I declare, scooting closer to look at the directions with him.

Though he's not looking at the pages anymore. He's staring a hole into the side of my head.

"Masters," he adds. "How'd you know?"

I shrug, leaving it ambiguous. I don't tell him I'd nosily asked Eddie when no one else was around, or that I'd spent hours on the University of Chicago's website looking at their History Department. Steve is highly distinguished by the History Department as one of their top students with several awards and accredits, but telling him I know that makes me sound like a stalker, so I keep it to myself.

"Y'know, my parents wanted me to go into Business," he slurs his words a bit. I try not to smile at him in a way that seems pitiful. "Didn't wanna end up like my hard-ass old man. It's all about money with him. Not even sure he's got a soul," he reaches behind me, inadvertently wrapping his arm around me to snatch another beer from the pack we left on the floor. Despite the several layers of fabric between us, his touch lights my skin on fire.

I swallow as he cracks open another beer. "I think you've had enough of these," I half-joke, taking it from him setting it on the opposite side of my body. He leans into me in a retrevial attempt but I move away from him. He puts all his weight on my shoulder, knocking me over. I snatch the beer and hold it over my head, barely out of his reach, but he continues his pursuit.

Maybe it’s the fact he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but I allow his body to envelop mine. He encompasses me, body pressed on top of mine as we wrestle over a singular beer bottle. It’s stupid; he could just grab another one, but he doesn’t. His large hand wraps around mine, tugging the bottle closer to us. I move to use my other hand to free myself from him but he snatches it, pinning it down above my hand.

I giggle uncontrollably, both because I’m drunk and incredibly nervous.

It’s as if the sound awakens Steve from his trance, because he stills against me. Chests flush and noses a mere inch apart, his breath fans my face. He looks, dare I say, scared. That makes two of us.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before recovering with a grin. “Always knew we’d end up in this position,” his voice is husky and he smells like a dangerous concoction of beer and cologne. He moves his other hand to my jaw, beverage long forgotten. He softly brushes some hair from my face with a finger, eyeing me intently.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I wiggle underneath him and he tenses, a labored breath escaping his throat. I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but the words die on my tongue as I feel something—someone—hard pressed against my thigh. I flush, coughing to have an excuse to turn my face away from him. Suddenly, it’s impossible to breathe. “Uh, Steve, you—“

I hear the front door open.

“We’re home!” Ben’s voice echos down the hall.

Steve and I can’t scramble off each other fast enough, a mess of limbs and strings of curses. He crawls away from me like I’m on fire. Flustered, I fix my hair and readjust my sweater. Steve busies himself with the instruction manual.

Suddenly sober, I watch as Ben enters the room, a ziplock bag in hand. I thank God for the distraction from Steve and lean heavily into it.

“I got it!” He cheers, wiggling the bag in his hand.

I furrow my brows. “You got…what?” I squint to get a closer look at the object in the clear bag.

“The key to solving your Dorm problem,” he moves it closer, and that’s when I see it. The tiny dead bodies of about five cockroaches. “I pulled their dead bodies out of your stuff,”

“That’s disgusting,” I gag, scurrying away from him.

“These little guys are coming with me to Campus Housing. We’re going to get you out of that lease.” He waives the bag of bugs around, and I damn near hurl as I remember the way they felt crawling on my skin. He’s so distracted by his victory, that it takes him a while to catch on to the heaviness in the room. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yes!” I say a little too loud and fast.

Ben cocks his brow. “Steve, are you drunk?”

“What? No…” Steve squeaks.

“Uh huh…” my brother retorts, eyeing him suspiciously. As he turns to leave, he says “The manual’s upside down.”

“Oh goddammit, again?!” Steve complains drunkenly.

Eddie brushes past Ben in the doorway, leaning against its white frame on his forearm. “Oh, dude!” Eddie whines. “You guys drank all the beer!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Im convinced that sharing a bathroom with two men is a type of punishment in Hell. Toilet seats left up, beard trimmings in the sink, and toothpaste on the counters are just enough of an inconvenience to annoy me. I spent my first couple days cleaning when I’m not in class, seen as I’m the only unemployed one in the house. It’s a bitterly unrewarding task, though, as when the boys come home it’s like a hurricane wrecks the house. Eddie’s the biggest culprit, his motor-oil stained hands infecting everything he touches.

Everyday, I shower after the gym and before my 11AM class. Having memorized the boys’ schedules, I know they should all be at work by now. Singing my best rendition of Taylor Swift’s greatest hits, I step into the shower. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, trying to ground myself in reality. I try not to think about all the anxieties that loom over me.

Campus Housing. The start of college. My brother’s hot best friend that I now live with.

Steve’s either a forgetful idiot or he’s embarrassed about the other night, because he’s yet to mention it since it happened. I know we were drunk but— enough to completely forget? I could never. Mostly because I think I liked it.

The bathroom door creaks open, eerie and slow. I freeze in place, so scared that I wanna turn inside out.

No one’s supposed to be in the house.

I suddenly remember the movie Psycho that Daizy and I swiped from the video store and watched in secret when we were 16. Am I going to die here, naked and wet in the shower like Janet Leigh did, zero dignity to my name.

Heavy footsteps approach the shower. Boots, they’re wearing boots.

Through the sheer shower curtain, I make out the shape of the person. A man, based on their build. Skinny but broad shoulders and arms. He’ll easily be able to overpower me.

I try not to panic, scanning the shower for anything to defend myself. There’s a variety of bottles, a bar of soap and a singular razor that hangs from the mirror nailed to the wall. I snatch it, ripping the head apart to get the blade out of it. I grip the tiny razor blade in my hand, my only source of self-defense.

The man leans over the vanity, turning the sink on and washing his hands. I silently pick up each bottle until I find the heaviest three, setting them at my feet. I brace for a fight, opening the curtain just enough to toss the largest, heaviest bottle at the intruder. I hear the impact from beyond the shower curtain, a groan of pain leaving him. I quickly throw the next one and then the one after that in rapid succession.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I scream, hopefully loud enough for a neighbor to hear and call the cops.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Eddie protests. “Can’t a man wash his hands without being abused by shower products?”

I peek my head out of the shower, wrapping the curtain around myself with one hand and holding the razor blade out with the other. Eddie looms over me, hands dripping with a mix of dirt, water, and oil.

“Goddammit, Eddie! I thought you were a predator!” I complain, the tension leaving my shoulders.

“And you were gonna… kill me with a blade from my razor?” He teases, pointing at the minuscule weapon I’d foraged.

I groan. “What’re you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Well, I live here. But if you must know, the shop’s closed due to a small fire,” he explains, drying his hands.

“Everything okay?” I gasp, wracking my brain through the possibilities. An engine fire, an oil fire, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m good,” he’s staring at me, eyes growing wider by the second. I—for the life of me—can’t figure out what he’s looking at, until he grins, “mind if I join you?”

“Ugh, gross,” I roll my eyes, closing the shower curtain aggressively. “Get out of here.”

“Breakin’ my heart, Sweetheart!” He sing-songs, pretending like he’s going to pull the curtain back by pinching it ever-so-slightly between two fingers.

“GET OUT, ED!” I screech.

His laughter gets further away until I can barely hear it through the thin walls of this ancient building. I huff, rinsing the soap out of my hair. Once the adrenaline has worn off and my body quits trembling, I laugh despite myself. Eddie’s blatant and unrelenting flirting is flattering, amusing, and terrifying all at once. I convince myself he’s just messing with me, because the alternative freaks me out too bad to even entertain it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

While sipping his coffee, never looking up from his coursework, Steve asked me if I’d like to visit his friend Robin’s thrift shop. The Loop’s occupied by buildings so tall they touch the moon; coffee shops, stores, restaurants… anything you can think of, it’s there. I’d never heard of it until Steve mentioned it. The Loop.

“Sounds made up,” I said over my breakfast.

“Everything’s made up.” Ben reminded me of the technicality, typing furiously at his computer.

When I agreed to go with Steve, his eyes lit up like someone had set a fire behind them. I was largely unmoved by it—I forced myself to be—but Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his best friend with an icy glare. They’d talked about something in private while Steve was getting ready in his room, right before we left. I ignored them as I found myself mulling over what to wear. Stupid, for such a basic activity. You’d think I was going on a date with how much I cared.

We stop by a coffee shop right next to the thrift store. There’s a Help Wanted sign taped to the door, and as I order my drink I muster up the bravery to inquire about it. A heavy set woman with a golden name tag labeled TRACY with the title ‘Manager’ scribed at the bottom tells me to come by next week with my resume for an interview.

I’m so giddy about the opportunity that I almost forget to listen to Steve’s order, but I do and commit it to memory.

16 ounce hot Americano with cream and one sugar packet. Somehow, it suits him so well.

I laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Steve asks, opening the door for me.

I shake my head and step outside just in time to see a pair of Mallard ducks cross the path, webbed feet flapping against the pavement.

“Holy shit, ducks!” I squeak, enthusiasm comparable to a kid in a candy store.

Steve laughs, a hearty sound that makes my heart flutter. “Yeah, they’re all over ‘round here. They come from the river,"

I kneel down, careful not to let my skirt fly up in the breeze. The ducks--a male and a female--quack, ruffling their feathers as they step a little quicker.

"Aw. They're on a date," I joke, standing up. Our shoulders bump into each other ever-so-slightly.

"Should I go buy a croissant to feed them?" Steve asks, smiling big.

I shake my head. "Bread's bad for them. Corn or oats are better,"

"Putting that biology major to good use," he jokes. His arm stretches outward like he's going to drape it over my shoulders, but flinches last minute and pretends to scratch his head instead.

"Actually," I fumble, hiding my blush with my hands. "I learned that on the internet."

There's that damned laugh again. It's addicting, a rush of dopamine tickling my brain every time I hear it.

I'm suspended in a trance-like state as I follow him to the thrift shop. Hawkins Place Thrift, the degenerated letters on the front of the building read. Baby blue paint peels off the brick and vintage clothes sit on mannequins in the shop windows.

When we enter, a bell above the door chimes. Steve holds the door open for me, and I step inside, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. The shop is lit by a series of old lamps and candles that cast a warm glow throughout.

"Is that Steve Harrington I see?" a woman's voice calls over the jazz music playing from a record player. I spot her from a mile away, mom jeans and a denim jacket with a puffy polka dot blouse. She's got mousey brown hair that barely brushes her shoulders and a general loving disposition about her, especially as she bolts across the room to embrace Steve in a hug.

He hugs her back and they spin once around. "Jeez, Rob. You act like I died and came back to life or something," Steve chortles.

She lets go of him, a look of annoyance on her features. "You practically did! We haven't seen you in, like, a month! Where have you--"

She looks at me, her jaw hitting the floor. "Holy shit, this is where you've been. You got a girlfriend?!"

My heart plummets into my stomach. It’s not that I mind being called his girlfriend. I do however, mind the look on his face.

"Actually, she--" Steve's cut off by her rambling.

"You're so pretty, oh my God. I'm Robin. I'm Steve's friend, but you knew that," she gushes, ignoring Steve to shake my hand. "Did you guys meet at that rich kid school? What's it called?"

"The University of Chicago, and it's not a rich kid school. Rob listen for a second--" he corrects, hands on his hips and obviously stressed out.

"What do you major in? Sorry, I'm asking so many questions. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since--"

"Robin!" the raise of his voice gets her attention. She releases my hands and turns to look at him. He's got a guilty look on his face. "This is Y/N. Ben's little sister," he gestures to me awkwardly. He turns away, but I swear I catch a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck.

Robin's expression falters but she swiftly recovers. "Ben-Benji! Right! We love Benji, right Steve?"

"Yeah, yeah sure..." Steve's mortified. I can't even begin to react, cemented in place and dealing with my own sick form of embarrassment. I think I’m going to throw up.

"You’re scarin’ the poor girl, Love,” a petite girl in a baby blue dress with short red hair appears from behind a bookshelf, seemingly out of thin air. She swoops in as my glorious savior to diffuse the situation.

Wrapping a soft hand around my upper arm, she tugs me ever so slightly towards her, and I allow it. She could try to kill me in the back alley and I’d let her just to get out of here. Behind us, I hear Robin and Steve arguing in angry whispers.

“I’m Vickie. You must be Y/N. Ben’s told me so much about you,” she gleams.

Seems like I’m a hot topic of conversation to literally everybody.

“It’s just because he loves you,” Vickie says sweetly, pulling me to a reading nook by a big window.

“Shit, did I say that aloud?” I blurt, immediately cringing after the words leave my mouth.

All she does is laugh, gesturing for me to sit in a floral-patterned wingback chair. I gladly take it, sighing as I lean back.

“Sorry about Robin. She can be a bit…eccentric,”

I snort. “Please, that’s nothing. Have you met Eddie? He’s like, the King of Drama,”

Vickie giggles. “Don’t I know it.”

Comfortable silence falls over us as we watch people stroll past the window. As my embarrassment settles, I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous my life’s become. It’s strange, how this is the least uniform my world has ever been, yet I’m the happier than ever. I used to loathe change; I needed a routine and an answer to everything. No unknowns, zero variables—but now that my life is nothing but variables and questions, I actually don’t mind it. It’s exciting in a way.

“What’s funny?” Vickie asks, her voice smooth.

I shake my head. “How much can change in two weeks,” I respond, before adding, “How much I can change in two weeks,”

“Strange how it all works out, huh?”

I peel my eyes from the window to look at her. “So… what’s Hawkins?”

Her eyes thin. “Hm?”

“The name of the shop. Where’s it from?” I clarify, pointing at the ceiling and imagining the sign hanging above it.

“Ah, that’s right,” she recalls. “It’s, well… it’s home. Or it was, for all of us. Besides you and Ben of course. Where’d you guys grow up, anyways?”

“Houston,” I answer.

“You’re a long way from home,” she teases.

I nod, playing with my fingers in my lap. I could get further, I want to say. I want to get as far away from home as possible. Maybe someday I really will get far. I hear Canada’s nice. “Where’s Hawkins?” I deflect the topic away from myself.

“Indiana,” she swallows, lips forming a tight line. Her expression hollows for a moment, but she quickly brings herself back to earth and recovers with her signature smile. “Not so far from home.” She says it like it's a regret.

My lips form an ‘o’ as I nod, following her gaze out the window. Across the street, a little boy drops his ice cream, and he cries.

What a silly thing to cry about, I think to myself, but then I remember that crying about anything is silly when you really think about it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the evening-setting sun peeking through the curtains and casting a golden glow on the walls. I go over my chemistry notes a million times, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Every other class was a piece of cake, save for anatomy, which I have yet to tackle.

Daizy sits at the foot of my bed, feet propped up on the wall as she doom-scrolls on her phone. She’s been staying in my room with me for the past week as she delays going back home to Houston, her bank account no longer allowing hotel stays. I don’t ask her when she’s leaving because honestly, I don’t want her to. I will admit though, that the apartment is feeling a little crowded with the five of us.

The faint sounds of pans clanking and muffled voices echo down the hall and underneath my bedroom door. Steve and Ben discuss something I can’t make out, stopping suddenly when the front door opens and shuts. Eddie’s voice joins them in conversation.

Looking down at my studies, I groan. Fuck all of this.

“I’m gonna drop out,” I threaten.

Daizy eyes me from the side, setting her phone on her chest. “Give it a rest, would you?” She twists and sits on her feet, leaning forward to grab my hands. We sit there, faces inches apart, as she grins and evil grin. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,”

“There is no elephant in this room,” I retort sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. “The metaphorical elephant!”

“That’s a big word for you, Dais,” I pester with a nickname I know she hates.

“You live with three men. Three hot men, might I add,” she leaps off the bed.

“Ugh, gross. One of them’s my brother,” I remind her.

She nods, spinning in place like a ballerina. “You’re the luckiest girl in the world, y’know that?” She gushes. “I mean, I’d give anything to get to look at them all day like you—“

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with three men?” I deadpan. “It’s anything but a joy,”

I slide off my bed and go to my dresser, pulling out some pajamas to change into. Daizy rants about boys—my boys, specifically, the ones only a few feet away in the kitchen—while I peel my sweater off.

Just as I’ve found myself in only my bra and underwear, my bedroom door flies open. I scream and attempt to cover myself as Eddie stands in the doorway.

“You went on a date with Steve?!” he accuses, expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Oh my God, Eddie! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Daizy screeches, shoving him out of the room. “She’s literally naked, you perv!”

Down the hallway, I hear my brother shout ‘WHAT?’ At an unreasonable volume.

Eddie’s face goes pale and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

“Get out!” I yell.

He shakes out of his trance. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” The door slams closed behind him. I get dressed at an inhuman speed, a flustered mess of limbs and hair in my eyes.

I turn to Daizy and she’s staring at me expectantly, eyebrows perched. “You went on a date with Steve?”

Anger boils in my stomach. “It wasn’t a date,” I grumble, storming out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I stop in the kitchen, brushing past Steve to grab the towel hanging from the oven door. “Munson!” I call.

Eddie and Ben are arguing in the living room. I rapidly approach, tunnel vision on Eddie and I smack him with the towel. He barely flinches as he laughs breathlessly.

“Calm down now, Sweetheart, I’ve seen you naked before,” he coos.

My blood runs cold and my jaw hangs slack. I hit him again.

“I’m sorry you what now?” Steve joins, rounding the kitchen counter.

“It was an accident!” Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “I walked in on her showering, she tried to murder me with shampoo bottles—“

I roll my eyes to mask my embarrassment. “You didn’t even see anything, I was covered by shower curtain,”

“Hate to break it to you Sweetheart, but—that curtain’s see through,”

I press my hands to the side of my head and squeeze. If I’m lucky, I’ll pop my brain out and I’ll never have to think about this ever again. "Oh. My. God."

Ben’s face is red with fury. “Alright, that’s it! Everyone shut up! Emergency roommate meeting is happening. Right. Now. Sit down, all of you,” he demands with conviction, slamming his hand on the couch. I silently sit on the sofa and Eddie sits on the opposite side. Daizy meekly attempts to escape, slowly stepping backward towards my bedroom. “You too!" Ben adds, pointing to her.

Her shoulders fall and she groans, walking to me. She sits on the floor in front of me, leaning her back against my legs. Steve sits between Eddie and me, his body heat radiating off of him. Daizy glances at him, mischief glimmering in her peripherals. I poke her ribs to make her stop, and she relents, if just barely.

The atmosphere suddenly turns serious and heavy. Ben paces back and forth, hands clasped together in contemplation. He presses his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Just as I believe I’m getting close to reading his thoughts, he starts, “Do you remember when I very directly told you two that there was a line, and not to cross it?” He speaks quietly, staring at the boys.

The pair nod. Steve looks down at his feet, and Eddie looks anywhere but Ben's face.

“Not only have you crossed the line, but it’s so far behind you that you can’t even see it. Shit—you might as well have pissed on it!”

Eddie can’t hold it in any longer, and he laughs, just for a second. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he sits. Ben glares daggers at him. “I know you’re not laughing, you sexual deviant. You can continue to flirt with everyone you see— but people in this house are off limits, especially her!”

I’ll admit to jumping a bit when my brother points a finger at me, like lightning will shoot out of it and electrocute me. Like Thor.

I laugh at my own thought and immediately I realize what I’ve done. Oh fuck.

“You’re not innocent, either,” he rambles. “Jesus, you live with three guys. Lock the goddamn door!”

My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, I want to remind him, but I fear he’ll ring my neck if I do.

“The bathroom lock’s broken and her bedroom doesn’t even have one,” Steve defends me. I dare a peek at him and he’s looking at me. I smile and mouth thank you to him.

“And how would you know her bedroom doesn’t have a lock?” Ben accuses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lived here for two years, Benjamin.”

“Fine,” Ben resolves, looking at me. “She’ll take my room. Private bathroom and a lock on the door,”

He says it like it’s some sort of punishment, so I have to pretend to be upset. The boys nod along, agreeing that this is the best middle ground.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ben wiggles his finger between Steve and me. “But quit it. If I find out you went on a date again I’m gonna wring your tentacles out like a rag,” he tells Steve, who winces at the thought and runs his hand through his fluffy hair.

Daizy giggles quietly. I kick her to try to shut her up, but it’s too late as he sets his sights on her.

“And you,” Ben calls on her. “Quit encouraging bad behavior. Do you think I couldn’t hear your little conversation earlier? These walls are paper thin,”

I bury my face in my hands. Daizy is gobsmacked and—for the first time ever—stunned to silence.

“This house clearly needs a set of clearly outlined rules,” he announces, pacing into the kitchen and snatching a notebook and pen off the counter. He scribbles furiously for an extremely long minute while the rest of us hold our breaths. Steve leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounds me as I scan his pouting face. 'I’m sorry,' he whispers, barely audible.

I shake my head. He has nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a date—Eddie’s a drama queen and my brother’s an over-reactor.

“I behold to you,” Ben breathes, ripping the page out of the notebook and displaying it like a child with an art project. “The Roommate Agreement.”

The hand writing is doctorate at best, kindergarten-esque at worst. “Please read this agreement and sign it. Failure to do so will result in banishment; sleeping on the fire escape.” Ben points out the sliding glass window above the communal desk in the far corner of the living room, the only entry point to the fire escape.

It starts with Eddie. He reads it quietly before handing it to Steve, who makes a face and then hands it to me. The chicken scratch handwriting reads as follows:

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

“Public humiliation or beating, really?” I snipe.

“Why are you so concerned? Plan on breaking the rules?” Ben teases.

I roll my eyes.

“Hey, can we add ‘pizza on Friday nights’ to the list of rules?” Eddie wonders aloud, ignorant to the tension in the room.

Ben sighs tiredly. “Yeah, sure, Ed. We can add pizza on Fridays,” he resolves.

“If we’re adding rules, we should add ‘knock before entering’ to the list. Since some people didn’t learn that in grade school,” I glare at Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’ve already seen you naked twice. Does it really matter anymore?”

I feel like I’m going to vomit from the thought of my naked body being burned into Eddie’s subconscious forever. Ben scowls and Steve elbows him.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Daizy complains.

“Huh. Not really, no,” Eddie admits.

“I can tell.” she says.

“Alright, alright. Amendment to the Agreement: Pizza on Fridays, always knock before entering, and never speak about my sister naked ever again,” Ben says, looking pale.

Steve nods, suddenly feeling brave. “We should be allowed to make changes,”

“Once a year?” Daizy suggests, handing the paper back to Ben after she’s read it. "If you change it too often, it's not really an agreement, is it?"

“You don’t even live here,” Ben simmers, snatching the page.

“You’re the one who got me involved!” Daizy contests.

They lock eyes, an unhealthy mix of angst and electricity ricocheting off each other.

“Good fuck. Just make out already,” for once I'm thankful for Eddie's big mouth, as he says what we're all thinking. Daizy reaches for one of the throw pillows discarded on the floor and heaves it with all of her might. The plush hits his chest and he winces just to appease her, snickering.

Ben leans on the coffee table, stained with rings from beer cans and coffee mugs, furiously writing on the page. We pass it around the room again, reading the Amendment and signing our names at the bottom.

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

4. We will have pizza on Friday night, every week, until the end of time.

5. The Agreement may receive 1 (one) Amendment within a calendar year.

6. We are to never speak of The Incidents again. Signing this agreement is a promise to take The Incidents to the grave."

'The Incidents' is an odd way to word 'Eddie's the only one that's seen my naked', but I suppose it's easier to digest this way.

I titter at the way it’s written, all professional and lawyer-like. That’s my brother, for you—he’s always been so serious. Steve hands me the pen and I grab it. He purposely holds onto it tight so I struggle to take it from him. I shake my head at him and he chuckles, relenting his grip to release the pen with a pop.

In wiggly cursive, just under Steve Harrington’s name, I squiggle my name and draw a little heart next to it, cementing my place in Apartment 406D and my commitment to the Roommate Agreement.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Holy crap, this took way too long to write, sorry! I gave up editing and half-assed it tbh so lmk if I missed something!**

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Tag list—

@G3n3zshack  @Rawrxbexjealous @Melalsworld @Anjxjahz @adaydreamaway30 @tiptoebabe @micheledawn1975 @crispystarfishhottub @spookysace24 

[pixeldistractions]

Five days before the wedding… 

For weeks, the northern summer mornings were temperate and sunny. Now, just days before the wedding, the forecast called for rain. Their new plan called for moving the ceremony under the gazebo instead of the open courtyard with its immovable stone benches. And that meant Jordan needed more chairs for the few dozen guests to crowd into the gazebo. He scoured the storage units, the closets, and the attic, but he found nothing except some cheap metal folding chairs. Not good enough for Stephanie's wedding. He wondered if Ingrid might have some more chairs at the waterfront cafe. 

None of them here worked very often with Ingrid. She was, to be honest, not very useful around here. Sharon had her at the waterfront cafe where she peddled coffees and candles and paintings of sailboats. She was obviously pretty and good at selling things, but beyond that, she couldn't cook, she didn't clean, she was too flighty to wait tables, and too much of an artiste to bus them. 

Out front, she had boxes stacked in and around her truck, candles and crafts arranged for packing, and her easel laid across the truck bed. It looked more serious than just moving some inventory from the Inn to the cafe. 

“Shit, did you get fired?”

“Ha, no, not exactly,” she said. “Sharon had to let the harbor cafe go. Ever hear of the Northern Kitchen Termite?”

“Oh, yeah, that went around here a few years ago. Destroyed a couple of businesses.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Welp, now it got mine.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“But, maybe it doesn’t? Wanna know a little secret?”

Ingrid took a step forward and waited for him to say yes, eagerly. His rapt attention was a delicious cookie and she needed a bite.

She was shameless, and it was mildly amusing. So he said, “Sure, okay.”

She grinned. She took another step closer. She smelled of vanilla and candle wax. “I hated my lease. Ugh, it was like being owned. Now I’m free! I’m newborn as a bare-assed baby!” She swung back and slapped her own ass. “The whole wide world is my fucking oyster.”

“Huh. Sounds cool, actually.”

“Doesn’t it? You wanna run away with me?”

Jordan laughed. “Sorry, I have to work.” 

Like, he needed to work was more accurate. He needed to save up enough money to find his own apartment and get out of Colette’s hair, and he needed to do it before they drove each other to murder. The hotel rooms were digging into his savings, even at an employee discount. He almost had first month’s rent, last, and deposit for an apartment. Until he did, being homeless was better than spending the nights at that house.

“Anyway, I wondered if you brought back any of the chairs from the cafe?” 

“Nope, sorry, termites got them.” 

“Termites ate the chairs?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, probably.”

“Right, well, never mind then. How about the candles? Boss wants to know if you saved any of your candles or if we need to go shopping?”

“Let me see what I’ve got.”

Ingrid bent over from the hips, waggling her ass at him while she rummaged through one of her boxes. Then she popped up with a phallus-looking candle in her palm. She stroked it up and down.

“What kind of candles does she want? Long ones, thick ones, ribbed for her pleasure?”

Astonished, Jordan could only stare at the candle in shock. This girl didn’t stop. Jordan was no choir boy, but he almost blushed. 

“Oh, for crying out freaking loud,” Maria grumbled, gawking out the front window as Ingrid manhandled her candles and sashayed back and forth like a street-corner hooker.

Maria had stopped dusting the dining room. She lost track of her dusting rag several minutes ago, and now all she could do was watch with contempt. Ingrid had been nothing but friendly to her, but Maria hated her anyway. Or maybe she hated that Jordan entertained her shameless attempts to seduce him. 

Maria didn’t hear Stephanie creep in, quiet as a mouse. “You know, Justin didn’t notice me for years, until one day he did. They’re slow to come around sometimes.”

Maria cringed, although the sentiment was appreciated. “Oh, is it that obvious?”

The two of them sat and gossiped a little longer about Ingrid, Jordan, Jordan’s baby momma, Maria’s crush, and which parts were deeply serious and which were probably not so much. 

Finally, Maria remembered that she had work to do and that Stephanie must have wedding preparations to attend to. She’d been hanging around the Inn too much as her wedding date drew closer, not trusting that this place could run without her. But they were doing okay. 

“Hey, you need to go! Don’t you have your final dress fitting today? I promise we’ve got it taken care of! Your niece is vegetarian. There’s a tofu saltimbocca coming right up. I’ve got your recipe, I can do it.”

“Okay, I guess,” Stephanie said. And in their short silence, the two of them glanced back outside at Ingrid, who was still showing Jordan her pornographic inventory of candles. 

Stephanie said, “Did you hear she’s leaving?”

“Good,” Maria muttered.

Outside, Ingrid had finally shown Jordan every candle she had. He took pictures of a couple and texted Sharon to make the final choice. While they waited for Sharon’s decision, Ingrid went on about everything she might do with herself now that the waterfront cafe was closed. 

“Out west, of course,” she declared. “The world is my oyster, but the Midwest doesn’t suit me. I’m a free spirit, you know. I gotta see the world. I gotta find my people. I just gotta get my camper running.”

This, above everything, finally caught Jordan’s attention. It caught his attention hard. “You have a camper?”

“Yeah, I bought it for two hundred bucks. It smells like weed and piss, but it doesn’t run. Yet. But hey, you’re a handy kind of guy. Maybe you could help me fix it?”

Sure, let me fix your camper so you can run off and have an adventure, Jordan thought. Feelings of resentment and jealousy swirled. What a life. “I don’t know. I’m kinda busy.”

“You have to understand,” Ingrid said, “I gotta get this thing working. It’s like, the nexus of my whole plan. I’m gonna drive out west and stream the whole road trip. You know, all that aesthetic. Snow-capped mountains, dusty deserts, misty forests, yoga on the beach in my bikini. Follow my channel, you don’t wanna miss it.”

Why did that sound like the most fun and frivolous life imaginable? Again, Jordan felt the cage tighten around him.

“So, what do I have to do to convince you? Can you look at it? See what’s wrong?” She smiled suggestively. “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

“You can pay me in cash. Cash is fine,” he said. “Yeah, sure, I’ll have a look at it sometime. No promises, though.”

Ingrid winked. “Promise? I wouldn’t dare.”

She grabbed a Sharpie from one of her boxes. “It’s parked at my sister’s place. Here’s the address.” 

She went for his arm, but he pulled away and took out his phone instead. "Text it to me."

I’m too old for this, he thought. Although, at twenty-eight and twenty-four, their age difference wasn’t so extreme. It was maturity, mostly. Ingrid made him feel old. Or maybe life did that.

She looked confused and disappointed. She had really wanted to write on his arm.

— "why are you here? #4: then go" part 2 / 4

Next -> // WAYH #4 start // index

author's note: hello, stinky broken camper! Maria probably doesn't need to worry much about Ingrid stealing his heart, but that camper though... 😬

[philtstone]

Touch prompts: “leaning into the other’s side” for Shawn and Juliet

i apologize in advance for the peter pan references my mom rewatched it and they overtook my body before i knew what was happening. anyway this was like 4 different half-formed moment ideas and 3 different half formed thematics that sort of got stitched together - there was a lot of material on the cutting room floor, much of it suited for a very tonally different fic - and im not sure im 100% happy w how it turned out, but im trying to be unserious about it. enjoy!

One morning, three months into dating Shawn, Juliet digs a VHS of Peter Pan out of storage and does her paperwork in the conference room.

Tamara Goldberg is seven and CPS is stuck in the traffic pileup that happened after that semi got flipped over by the salsa dancing studio. Minimal casualties – Vick sent one of her other units – but Juliet is strangely grateful. Tamara (sweet-faced and quiet for her age and giggly when Shawn pretends to pull a packet of fruit gushers out of her ear) needs the distraction: Mom arrested, Dad a nonstarter, Uncle nearly incoherent when they brought him in. Therapy, Juliet thinks – therapy will be good for everyone involved.

Juliet never used to be big into therapy, but the department made her get one last year, and it’s actually kind of helped.

This case, Tamara’s case, was one of those long-haul things that dragged out over the span of two weeks and messed with everyone’s heads. Nothing close to Yin (Juliet does not want to think about Yin, therapy or not), but mundane bad. Can’t stop ‘til it’s figured out bad. There’s a little girl involved, bad. Shawn and Gus definitely slept at the Psych office a couple times (a fact Juliet knows) and Carlton might have slept at the station (something she’s forced to deduce, but Juliet is a good detective), bad. Juliet herself hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, hasn’t eaten anything but takeout for a week, and hasn’t had sex with her boyfriend for longer. Kind of hard to get laid when you’re both doing overtime at the same workplace that also happens to have a strict no interoffice dating rule. She’s mostly been too exhausted to dwell on it. It’s over now, almost, anyway.

“There it is, Wendy! Second star to the right and straight on til morning!”

Tamara kicks her feet slightly as the Disney music plays. She’s completely absorbed by the conference room TV, enough that the bustling sounds coming through the half-open door and the scratch of Juliet’s pen on paper don’t bother her. They don’t really bother Juliet either; she likes knowing that everything is mostly back to normal.

“Don’t you two pests have anywhere else to be?” 

read more

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 6

No Man's Land

Slept a little later than usual after the eventful night, then made some upgrades to my weapons. Fortunately, no Oseram returned in the night to find me sleeping in their camp.

Back on my Charger, I headed south for the lake and its larger encampment of delvers. On the way, I came upon a smaller Utaru settlement, dismounting and walking pass so as not to alarm them and catch an arrow in the back. The only people they're likely to have seen riding machines around these parts are Regalla's rebels.

I tried to greet them as I passed, but the guards at the gates only shouted for me to turn back, saying Stone's Echo was only for Utaru. After Daen's invitation to Plainsong last night I hadn't been expecting blatant hostility. Doesn't matter. It's not like I'm going to need to stop there anyway.

Further south west, I came to the lake with an old Carja fortress on the south side and a bustling camp on the banks.

I took the opportunity to get my weapons touched up by the camp's smith and sell some of the salvage I'd picked up on the journey so far. The camp's residents were almost all Oseram, but my interest was piqued by a pair of Carja noblemen arguing loudly about some artefact they'd found.

One of them, Gendas, was entertainingly fixated on a piece of scrap metal he'd picked up from an Oseram dig site nearby. He'd convinced himself it was a tray that the Old Ones used to serve delicacies. It looked more like data storage hardware to me, so I asked to take a look.

I scanned it and started searching through the data. There was heaps stored on such a large component, so I only skimmed through, though my hand movements while navigating an interface visible only to me concerned Gendas and Rushavid enough to consider asking for a healer. It's all lauding 'she who sees the unseen' until she starts seeing the unseen, then she's crazy. Figures.

It was military data. Unsurprising considering the amount of ancient war machines in the battlefield just to the east. Most of it was just a telemetry dump from something called a 'mobile cover system'. Cover is always welcome. I wouldn't mind having some sort of shielding between me and whatever Sylens has cooked up.

Gendas told me that he and Rushavid had journeyed here to study artefacts of the Old Ones, though Gendas seemed more academically enamoured while Rushavid was eager for shards. Things weren't going well for either of them so far, but Gendas remained endearingly optimistic. It was said that the bulk of the treasure was at the bottom of the lake, and Gendas had found his beloved tray at the shore of the Oseram's dig site across the banks at Jagged Deep Delve. I thought it was worth checking out. There must be something good here if all these Oseram are gathered. The Carja and their hired Oseram crew had been driven out of the site by a herd of machines, so they offered to pay me to clear them out too. A nice bonus. Gendas also insisted on doing my makeup, for some reason. So now we're matching.

I swapped my furs for light Carja armour. Better for swimming, and the growing heat the further I travel toward the western desert. Rushavid was right about the lake—there's heaps of sunken salvage down there. Mostly old tanks, planes and weaponry, by the looks.

Crossing the lake, I walked the southern bank toward the dig site. I scouted the machines from a distance. New ones: Widemaws. Purgewater sacs on the belly, huge vacuum unit and delicate grinding components in the mouth, sparkers on the sides and resource canisters on the rump. I watched them for while, grinding up the earth and ejecting these pods of nutrients that slowly sunk into the churned soil. Seems like they're meant for planting or fertilising. There were two of them, and a couple of Scroungers hoarding useful scrap from the delve site.

I took out the Scroungers first, sneaking up on them with my Stalker shield, then drew one Widemaw away from the other so I could take them one at a time.

On the first, I went for its sparkers to keep it down, doing damage with my spear and targeting the machinery down its gullet, which it promptly used to suck in huge boulders and chunks of debris to eject at force in my direction, along with pressurised jets of Purgewater. I took a few nasty hits to the back. Its vacuum unit is a damn powerful thing—even sprinting on the spot I could feel my feet dragging backwards toward its maw. Light armour was a bad idea. I made ample use of my Ropecaster too, anything to keep its mouth shut.

On the second Widemaw, I concentrated on its Purgewater sac, drenching it in the oily stuff enough that it weakened its armour. Frost bombs after that—brittle, piercing arrows to its weak components. Down quicker than the first.

And at the end of all that, there was barely anything left at the delve site worth taking. I grabbed a few good scraps from the shallow reaches of the lake, but I could pick out the good stuff further down with my Focus, pinging with promise. I tried to dive deep, pushing myself, but I couldn't hold my breath. Of course, the reachable stuff had already been looted. Wonder if there's a way I can get all the way down there.

I felt bad returning to the camp essentially empty handed, though at least the Oseram could return to their dig site now. I swum back across the lake to the adjacent island, spotting some more ruins circled by machines.

Skydrifters, and another Widemaw, which I elected to avoid and snagged the ruins' salvage while I could. Went for the sparkers on the Skydrifters this time and had an easier run of things, keeping them off me as I escaped. Hard to avoid the electrical arcs, though.

From there, my Focus picked up a nearby signal. A drone was circling the skies near a roving Thunderjaw. I was getting real close to Sylens' mysterious coordinates by this point, so the first thing my paranoid thoughts jumped to was that he was surveying the area remotely. Given the high tech gadgets he's been handing out to his pet army, it wasn't far fetched.

I climbed around to a high enough vantage to disrupt the drone's path, avoiding the Thunderjaw. Finding no way to hack its pathing and not wanting to damage it with projectiles, I leapt and hung onto the drone, pulling it down so I could scan it fully. It was clearly produced by a Cauldron, and wasn't overridden for any nefarious purpose as far as I could see. It was recording terrain and other data similar to a Tallneck, just a lot more mobile. The vantage did, however, help me spot another rebel encampment just to the west. The frontier of Sylens' nearby operation?

If so, it was a fairly small operation. I wonder if they're out this way to scope out that camp full of Oseram and Carja.

I waited on the sidelines until the camp's leader was alone—easy to spot as he was the largest, barking orders, carrying a huge shield and sword. I snuck up on him, cloaked as a Stalker, and thrust my spear into his chest through his under arm. Understandably, people noticed, but not fast enough to get to me. I dropped a smoke bomb and dashed out of there in the confusion.

I took out the rest of the rebels in stealth for the most part. Utaru Shaprshot bow, striking from cover. To one, I skewered their thigh with my spear before knocking them cold. One of them picked up a Deathbringer gun at one point, which raised the stakes only until I put an arrow through their skull from behind their own blinders.

There were piles of Corrupters in the centre of the camp, stripped for scrap, likely to build override modules for their many machines.

There was no further sign of rebel camps further west. The way looked clear through to Sylens' coordinates. I moved closer to that location as night drew on, with great caution.

I came across another abandoned Oseram camp close to the coordinates, likely driven clear by the rebels. Sylens had made his camp in a suitably ominous location—the underbelly of a Horus, its limbs half submerged in a lake. I could spot the fire glow and wooden scaffolding of whatever new workshop he'd carved for himself. I still doubt he's physically there, but it at least seems he was at some point. There are no signs of rebel activity near the Horus, at least. Still, best to keep an eye on the area over night. I need to be sharp when I go to meet whatever Sylens has in store for me.

He said he wants to help me repair Gaia, but after seeing what he's put in motion with the Tenakth, I find that hard to believe. I don't have any choice but to play along, for now. Elisabet had to make deals with people she hated just to build Gaia in the first place. Sometimes, awful, immoral people are too useful to disregard. Eleuthia would never have succeeded without Far Zenith. None of us would be here today if Elisabet refused to deal with those who went against her dearest values.

[indigosunsetao3]

Move In Day

Second expansion of Older CIA Alex list.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

MDNI | 18+ | Please check AO3 for tags

Of all the days for it to rain, today was it. There was no backing out now though, the moving truck was packed up and the truck needed to be back by five that evening to avoid another charge. You had insisted on paying for it because your father had paid to move all your stuff back here and to sit in the storage unit. You could pay for the truck and between the two of you and some of his friends, you could lug the stuff up the stairs.

He had roped a few of his friends to help but waking up to the thunderstorms and all around miserable weather they were dropping like flies. The first call came in with an excuse of his bad back acting up; that wasn't too far-fetched but awfully convenient. Then the next one mumbled an excuse about his missus needing him at home for some sort of project. The last guy hadn't even tried to lie, he said he wasn't going to work out in the rain, and he had paid his dues working outside already.

"You and me kid," your dad says as he climbs out of the truck he had driven over.

"What?" You ask a bit exasperated as a few drops of rain hit your face, seems the break in the weather lasted long enough for the drive over.

"Not so sure I'm happy it's the third floor anymore," he states as he tilts his head back further to look up at the corner apartment. The stairs are exterior, metal, and bound to be slick despite being covered. "Not getting any younger, let's get at it then."

You sigh before digging your phone out of your pocket to see if you can find anyone. No movers for hire would be available on this short a notice but maybe a friend or two. You scroll through the meager list of recent contacts, all of them live back on the other coast or were your coworkers. No help there. But as you get to the bottom of your texts you find the one you sent to Alex a few weeks back that he never answered.

You were desperate.

Hey Alex, it's Paul's daughter. Listen, I know this is asking a lot but if you're available I could use your help. I'm moving into my apartment today and it's just us, all his friends backed out. I'm afraid he's going to give himself a heart attack lugging all this up himself.

You stare at the message for a second and wince before hitting send. He had never responded last time and you knew it seemed weird for you to reach out to him again after he left you on read. But you thought if you worded it as a favor more for your dad than you he would be more willing. Brownie points with the boss and all that.

Before you could even grab the first box from the back of the truck your phone buzzes with an answer.

Send me the address. Really? Really. I have a few hours. Oh perfect, I owe you big time. We have beer but I can get you whatever you want for payment. Don't make offers like that, trouble. Beer is fine.

"Help is on the way," you say to your dad as you lug up a lamp and clothes basket full of cleaning supplies. You know your face is bright red at the implication of the response Alex had sent you but it's easy to play off exertion from climbing the stairs.

"Found movers?" He asks as he takes the basket from you and takes it to the kitchen.

"Alex offered to help. I sent him a SOS and he said he had some time. Good thing your employees like you."

"Sure," your dad says as he stands in the kitchen entry and stares at you with a look of apprehension on his face. "You talk to him often?" His question is too casual to be just that and he knows you've made him by the glare you shoot him over your shoulder.

"Don't start," you answer as you set the lamp off in the corner of the dining room area. "This is the first time I've spoken to him since the charity gala if you must know. I just didn't want you keeling over on the stairs, old man." You smirk before adding on, "hell maybe I shouldn't have asked him either. I'll be babysitting both of your old asses."

That seems to satiate your dad's suspicious questioning. You knew his stance on work and personal life being separate, it had been his rule since you were a child. It didn't matter though, Alex had thoroughly ignored you since the gala so there was no worry about breaking your father's rules.

You had both brought a few boxes and the breakable items out of the back of your car upstairs when Alex pulled up. He's in in a truck, solid black and huge, it dwarfs your little Civic as he parks right next to it and hops out.

Fuck.

He's in workout clothes, as if you had texted him in the midst of a session at the gym and he had dropped it all to come help. His sleeveless cutout tank leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination as he reaches into the bed of his truck to grab a few items. You can see the side of his chest, the ridges of his abs, and the v that leads down to the gym shorts that are slung low over his hips. He would be in a white tank top as well. You glance up at the dark rainclouds overhead that threaten a deluge any moment and secretly pray they opened up right at that moment before getting your senses back.

"Hey!" You call from your small patio once you swallow and fix the dry throat he had created by showing up looking like that.

"Hey," Alex answers with a grin as he fixes his baseball cap before producing what he had been digging in the truck bed for. Straps and gloves to help move the bigger items. "Where's the old man?"

"Here," your dad answers as he hops out of the back of the moving truck and walks over to shake Alex's hand. They talk for a moment and you hope your father had not seen you blatantly staring at Alex a moment before. Or now. You jump as if you have been stung and quickly head back into your apartment to get back to vacuuming the living room to prep for the couch which was next.

The next few hours consist of sprinting to get furniture inside in breaks in the rain, then standing around or putting furniture back together when the skies open up. You do your best to stay out of Alex and your dad's way as they lug things up the stairs and into the apartment, merely pointing where things go. Alex also was wise enough to bring a tool kit and he sets up your bed frame with your dad's help while you try not to hover.

But just because you are not hovering doesn't mean you aren't watching. Alex, on more than one occasion, had paused to wipe at his forehead using his shirt hem as a sweat rag and putting on display the rest of his abs that were hidden by his meager tank. You stare as inconspicuously as you can each time but you know he has caught you once when he winks behind your father's back.

Then a sudden downpour catches all of you off guard. You make a run for the apartment carrying a box of clothes and Alex diverts back to the truck to save the rest of the things on the edge from getting soaked. Thanks to his effort he comes back inside dripping wet and he stands in the kitchen to spare your carpet.

His shirt is clinging to his chest, back, and well pretty much everywhere. His shorts are no better and when he takes his baseball cap off he runs a hand through his hair accidentally spraying you with the excess water. You nearly choke on your words when your dad asks if you have a towel, he's just as soaked but you certainly aren't paying him any mind at the moment.

"Sure, yeah, hang on," you squeak before hustling to the bathroom to rip open boxes to find the towels. You do your best to push the image of Alex's body under his soaked clothes into the recess of your mind but he doesn't help. He follows you to the bathroom and leans on the doorjamb to watch you dig around in boxes.

"Here," you breathe out as you hand Alex a towel before realizing it's just a hand towel and you hastily snatch it back and give him another. He's smirking from ear to ear watching you get so flustered but he doesn't say a word. He just walks past you to the bathroom sink to pull off his shirt and wring it out in the sink then dries off with the towel as best as possible before ruffling up his hair.

"I think your dad is waiting," Alex taunts as he locks eyes with you in the mirror. You were staring again and he had been watching you watch him the whole time.

"Right. Dad!" You yell out a bit too loudly as you scamper out of the bathroom and down the hall to find your dad propped up in a cloth lawn chair in the dining room already half asleep. All the moving had taken it out of him and he looked exhausted. "Dad here," you mutter handing him the towel before going to find him a water.

"I'll get the last boxes," Alex answers as he walks back out, thankfully covered by his shirt no matter how translucent it was.

True to his word he brings in the last of the boxes before accepting the beer you offer him. Your dad has tapped out in the lawn chair snoring loudly and you wince a bit as Alex laughs before heading out to the patio to watch the next round of storms rolling in.

"Thanks for your help today, I ah, I know moving someone isn't exactly a fun job," you say as you lean your arms on the railing next to him as you look over the parking lot.

"Three people are better than two. And I doubt you would have been able to haul that bedframe up. Is that shit lined with lead?" Alex asks with a laugh around the lip of his beer before taking a swig.

"It was my grandmother's, so probably," you answer with a smirk, "they don't make them like they used to. New stuff always breaks so easily."

"Have a history of breaking beds?" Alex asks with an eyebrow raise.

You flush, you don't even have a chance to hide it in your lowcut tank that you had resorted to with it being so muggy. The bright red slides from your sternum and up your neck. But you aren't going to back down, even if he smirks more at your reaction.

"I may have ruined a few," you challenge (a definite lie aside from maybe a few sets of sheets) before sipping on your own drink willing yourself to not choke on it. "Hopefully you assembled this one correctly, the last thing I want is for the bottom to fall out on me in the middle of...the night."

"Careful, trouble," Alex says with a laugh, his voice like silk, before finishing his beer and setting the empty bottle on the table. "I assure you I built your bed just fine. But you test it out for me and let me know," he grins.

"If you get a text in tomorrow morning that I fell on the floor I expect you here to fix it," you tease.

"Tomorrow? Planning on being busy tonight?" He asks letting his eye sweep over you. His confidence and ease at taunting make your feeble attempts to fluster him seem like child's play. When you don't answer he chuckles a little. "Tell your dad I'll see him tomorrow. I have to get going," he glances at his phone that he's dug out of his pocket before back up at you. "I'll talk to you later. Text me if you break something." His words are innocent but based on the conversation you were both just having the implication hangs heavy in the air. Flirt. Dangerous flirt.

You do your best to hide your disappointment he's leaving. You're exhausted after all the work but having him around is fun, a little banter and something to look at was always a welcomed distraction.

"Are you actually going to answer your texts this time?" You ask, jabbing back at him for ignoring you all those weeks ago.

"I answered this one didn't I?" He asks, making a face as if he wants you to challenge him. You don't because he's right.

He gives you a winning nod and heads for the door, patting your dad once on the knee as a goodbye. Your dad stirs a bit but snores on and you blatantly watch Alex get in his truck and leave as you nurse your beer.

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

Alex watches you as he pulls away, his eyes tracking over your body as you lean on the railing. He had been waiting you out, wanting you to reach out to him first because he knew you would. Had seen the way you watched him, and saw how your father reacted to his presence which meant you had talked about him to the man. It was just a waiting game and he was glad it was finally starting to come to a close.

Another plus to you having your own apartment, besides the fact he could get you alone without your father realizing, meant a security system. He had seen the brand new box, probably bought by your father, in the many things he had carted in. He snapped a few pictures of the serial numbers after he cut the boxes open with his pocket knife to keep an eye on for when they came online.

He had the security feeds at your job but that was vastly different from the intimacy of home. And he didn't dare hack your father's house, he was too good at his job to not pick up on an outside IP. You though, you didn't look for those things.

He was a gentleman of course. He'd never intrude on you undressed, that was something he wanted you to give him freely. But he certainly wasn't above listening to you testing out that bed, or watching you sitting on the couch half dressed watching television at the end of the day.

[taterstories]

The Switch (part 2) written by: Tater

There I was looking at my own body from another. I was now in Abigale's body, and she was in mine. I asked, "How did this happen." looking at me laughing at me, "I did this with the drink we drank together. Now you can truly enjoy that body and will be forever stuck in that body and live out your life as Abigale." I started to cry as the female emotions now affected me. I asked, "Why did you do this?" Again, there was laughter in response, "I cannot use that body any more to get where I need to be it was just a steppingstone to where I need to be. So, now I will use your body to get farther in my campaign." I was shocked and could not figure out what I am supposed to do. Then he said, "I ordered food so come and dine with me and I will explain everything to you." A few awkward moments later there was a knock at the door it was room service. The person in my body went and let them in and they set all the food on the table. He tipped them then they left. He told me have a seat and dig into it before it gets cold. I was looking at all the items that were ordered and I was starving.

I sat down at the table and made me a plate full of food. Then He said to me, "Be careful now, your body is different you can't eat like you use to as a man or you will ruin that beautiful figure." So, I slowed down my eating. Then he goes on to tell me that he will give me a cell phone with the names and phone numbers of friends and people that know Abigale if I would choose to live her life. Or go in a different direction. He said he will give me a wallet and I will have access to about ten million dollars for me to live off of. He said that as Abigale he had no house and was a nomad to further his agenda. But now I can choose to live how I want as Abigale. I could never go back to my family because they would never believe what had happened. He told me that most all Abigale's clothing is in the hotel room but there is a storage unit full of the rest of her belongings. I got full on the food quickly and was trying to wrap my mind around my new body and life. I was thinking I would stay here for a bit and learn about myself before I would go and find my new family and friends. Because a girl does need her friends, and Abigale's body was making my way of thinking different and I have her instincts and mannerisms. When he was done eating, he got up and showed me the purse and everything I need to know, and he said he was going to leave. He came over to me and looked at me like I looked at woman for so long and I did melt he kissed me on the lips. Then he went to the door and said, "Enjoy the new body and life." Then he left me alone to figure things out.

Once I realized I was alone I looked through the phone at some of the names in there and looked at the pictures. Then I thought about something and ran back into the bathroom and was looking at my new body and admiring it. I started touching my breasts and then I pulled off my panties and looked at my beautiful, waxed pussy. I started touching it and it did indeed feel good I laid on the bed and figured myself and rubbed my pussy and breasts till I felt it all over my body it felt amazing, and I couldn't help but to scream in pleasure. Then I just laid there coming down from an amazing rush of an orgasm. I thought to myself I think I can get use to this new body and life. I then went into the closet and looked at the clothes I went and got cleaned up and dressed. I then decided to go to a local place that I use to hang out all the time to see if some of my old friends were there. I figured I would go somewhere familiar to me and see people I once knew and spent time with I guess to say goodbye to my old life. Well, we would see how this goes so I got a car over to the golf club.

When I got to the golf club, I went to the restaurant and sat at the bar, it was around the time all of my old friends would come back from there game and have drinks and lunch. I had the bartender get me a drink I had known him very well from coming here every week. The first drink I tried was a whiskey like I use to drink but my new body didn't not like it so I quickly changed my drink to some wine which I preferred a lot better. I tried not to look odd to the bartender. After sipping almost my whole glass of wine I heard all my old friends come in from there game and sat in the usual table. They ordered their drinks and food from one of the waitresses and were cutting up and joking. It wasn't long till they noticed me a beautiful woman sitting at the bar. Then one of them came and sat next to me probably trying to pick me up or score. I was trying not to make eye contact till he tried to start a conversation, I was thinking that its funny how they think they can just pick me up. I turned and looked at who it was it was James one of my most manly and confidant and controlling friends. Right as I looked into his eyes, I had a feeling come over me that was uncontrollable. The feeling got stronger as he talked to me throwing his lines at me wooing me and I kind of liked it and was feeling myself melt. I was keeping my self-composed, but I was fighting every urge to kiss him and let him have me right on this bar. I was fighting this feeling and trying to think straight and not be a slut. But the slutty side took control and whispered in his ear, "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes."

There I was standing in the unisex bathroom in the back hallway of the club it was seldomly used and not too many people went back there. Then right on time James came into the restroom and locked the door behind him. As Dan I never had any type of feelings for James nor any man, I was just like him a ladies' man. But Abigale's body has different feelings the body was forcing me to feel this way uncontrollably. As soon as James had turned around, I went right in and started kissing him and he grabbed my ass with both hands. I started to feel my pussy get wet and the feeling of wanting to be his slut was stronger than ever and I couldn't control it. I then get down on my knees on in front of him with him looking down at me not breaking eye contact. I unbuckle his pants, and as Dan I had never seen or wanted to see James naked but his was always very confident and had a reputation with women. I then pull out his semi hard cock and he is hung I couldn't believe it I think being Abigale it looked even bigger to me now. I stroked it a few times to get it a little harder to get it almost to full staff being about 10 inches and thick I put my lips on it and took it in my mouth. I couldn't understand why I was doing this but the feeling and actions I could not control. I started sucking his cock and my pussy got even more wet his cock felt and tasted so good I was loving it. I wanted him to fuck me, so I didn't want to make him cum to fast, but he took control and fucked my face till his came in gobs down my throat.

After swallowing all his spunk, I stood up and kissed him and he grabbed my ass and felt my pussy feeling my wetness. I turn around and lean against this counter of the restroom and I looked back at him his cock was starting to get soft then it was once again rock hard. James pulled my red thong panties to the side and slid his wet hard huge cock into my begging pussy. It felt good with slight pain but a good pain his cock filled my pussy. He started to fuck me, and it felt amazing I was trying to keep quiet but was moaning and whimpering. Then I felt it again all over my body and intense stock waves shooing through me I let out a scream. My pussy was dripping and the shocks just kept cumming and it felt so good I was addicted to this feeling and was now a slut to cock. I continued to pump his big cock into me I could tell he was getting tired but his was doing his best to fuck me and make himself cum again. I was starting to get another wave of shocks through my body, and he came once again. But this time his cum filling my cunt it made the shocks even more intense. When he was done filling my pussy, he pulled his cock out and it made a sucking and slurping noise with cum seeping out to my legs. I turned around and smiled at him with a full tummy and cunt full of his spunk I said, "Thank you." Then I fixed my dress and walked out of the restroom. I was satisfied and thinking I need to turn down the slut a bit, but I like it. As I walked out of the club to a waiting car, I thought I think I will enjoy being Abigale and am going to enjoy my new life.

[smackthedevilwrites]

As the year comes to a close, almost, I just wanted to take some time out to say thank you to everyone who reblogged, bookmarked, shared, liked, read, left kudos and comments on my fics. I’m very lucky to have found myself as a writer within a community of really nice, genuine people from all over the world.

I love writing. I really should be spending time on my novel, which is unrelated to J2 but here I am, publishing a fic a month about these two yahoos who have really gotten under my skin. What can I say, I love them. There is just something unending about J2, no matter what other people say or do, J2 are eternal. As ships go, the aesthetics are heavenly and the chemistry of an almost 20 year friendship are the gifts that keep on giving. And with that, my brain will not stop until every trope, every occupation, every situation has been explored with J2 at the helm.

This year, Jared has been a lighthouse keeper, a multi-media management employee, a ghost, a Christmas tree-topper, a vampire, a hooker and a porn star in training amongst other things. Jensen has been a vampire too, a Greek soldier, a book-store owner, an ice seller from the 1920’s and a virtual reality coder. I keep them busy, is all I can say.

There is just something magical about creating worlds centered around the two most beautiful men on earth. I have a new fic lined up for the new year but I am going be (reluctantly) taking a break which is good because Christmas is fun but bad because I write literally every day of my life. I’m sure I’ll survive it.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

Here below is the complete list of every J2 fic of 2023 – 666,130 words – make of that word count what you will. 😦

Very long list under the cut -

THE LOVE LOCKER

Jensen Ackles buys storage units for a living, it's a lucrative business which has made him a comfortable amount of money. One thing he learned on the job is that one man's junk is another man's treasure. People leave all manner of things in abandoned lockers; money, comics, designer clothes, sports equipment, antiques, books and sometimes (maybe just the once), people.

THE PURPLE IRIS

In 1926 Louisiana, twenty year old Jared Padalecki has been forever searching for something to fulfil him. The youngest of four sons born into a rich and privileged family, Jared is ignored by his mother, father and brothers who think him wild and believe him to be of no use to them. In a desperate bid to inject excitement into his life, Jared spends his formative years seeking thrills but finds nothing that suits his character, until he comes of age. Jared is a late bloomer, lonely and questioning his sexuality. Through self-discovery, Jared opens himself up to the world in the most intimate way possible, attracting the attention of the mysterious 'iceman' and a rich older friend of his father's who takes advantage of Jared's vulnerability and loneliness.

FOREVER SEVENTEEN

Jared Padalecki was well-traveled for a sixteen year old and had lived in many different countries around the world. His passion was history and joining his parents on archaeological digs, standing on the sidelines and watching as the past was slowly revealed. When Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki decided to take on regular jobs and settle down in Santa Cruz, it gave Jared his first taste of high school in the US. With only two weeks until summer break, he had little time to settle in and even less time to make friends to keep him busy during the summer. However, on his very first day, Jared was taken under the wing of the very mysterious but shockingly handsome Jensen Ackles. At seventeen, Jensen had a worldy air about him and an intelligence to match Jared's. Soon, they became insperable and during that crazy hot summer, they became eternal together too.

GLOW IN THE DARK STARS

Have you ever met a terrible person and wondered why they did the things they did? What happened to them that turned them into a bad person? Were they born like it? What kind of trauma led them to become such an a-hole? None of those questions are answered here. Instead, what you will find is what happens to terrible people when they realize that they’re terrible. Jared Padalecki is young, not particularly dumb (actually pretty smart, eventually) and definitely full of come. He’s also full of himself too. When his car-crash of a mother announces her marriage to Jensen Ackles (lol), Jared actually couldn’t care less but Jensen is harboring a secret. Mmm, I wonder what it could be?

BERRY PIE

1969 - the summer of love for young people all over the world, the moon landings and the last year of the swinging sixties. In Jared Padalecki's small world, none of that figured as he battles to make sense of himself and a girl called 'Juliet' in an unloving home. The Padalecki farmstead had always given the impression of a happy home; it was beautiful, the heart of the community and the family were well-respected. Jared had always felt a little different to what was expected of him and most of the time, his life and future felt hopeless and carved out for him. But there was something about him that said determination as he quietly and privately tried to bring 'Juliet' to life, the other part of him, the girl he so very often needed to be.

EROTAS

When Jensen was fifteen, he was selected by the Gods and the elders of the Sacred Army temple in Thebes to one day fight alongside a same sex lover as part of the three-hundred strong company of the most beautiful men in all of Ancient Greece. His looks, strength and sexuality was noticed by Zeus but the Theban council elders were hesitant to enlist him, worried that his peasant upbringing would not be the right fit for the army. At twenty-two, Jensen finally left his modest home to join the army, four years later than he should have. His beauty was much admired by his superiors who urged him to form a union of love and strength with the rich and equally beautiful Jared, who was plagued by prejudices of status encouraged by his biased mother. Jensen was loathe to chase after a man who did not want him despite Jared’s obvious beauty and soon Jensen’s eyes were eventually drawn elsewhere; love came swiftly to him in the arms another, leaving Jared seething with jealousy and the council left with no other choice but to take the matter into their own hands.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE

Jared Padalecki is the most popular of all the boys at The Cactus Club, an all-male brothel in the state of Nevada. He’s good at his job because he needs the money and has big plans for his future, just like all the other young men in the club. At twenty-two, Jared is a veteran of sorts, the ‘mother hen’ of the brothel. Independent and quite strong-willed, Jared’s life is turned upside down after a tragedy rocks The Cactus Club but he soon learns that there is a much nicer world outside of Jared’s sex oriented existence and Detective Jensen Ackles is the reluctant cop who teaches him the ways of kinder way of life.

PRET A AIMER (READY TO LOVE)

Jensen Ackles is the most powerful man in the fashion industry, editor-in-chief of ‘Sync’ magazine and an all round uncompromising hard-ass. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Jensen notices a leggy young man propping up the ‘Power House’ building where the ‘Sync’ headquarters are housed. Eventually, curiosity gets the better of him and after finding himself displeased with the models whom had been sent his way, he sends his assistant to drag the young man off the streets, a young man who turns Jensen’s world and the world of fashion upside down.

THIRTY YEARS IN AUGUST

After finding himself alone in a city he had always hated, amateur photographer and almost college student, Jared Padalecki takes himself off to Coney Island for the day in search of much needed adventure which he finds in the shape of one of America’s finest.

MIAMI & YOU

Miami based Jensen Ackles is a veteran porn star with a new venture on his mind and no plans to quit his career. After finding the perfect young man for his dubious project with the help of his manager Matt, Jensen’s unprepared body and mind are sent into turmoil.

WHOA, WE’RE GOING TO IBIZA

Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles had been together for four years but life decided to throw one pile of crap after another at them which led to a sad and bitter break-up. A few months previously, Jared had booked a vacation for himself, Jensen and eight of their best friends to Ibiza. Not wanting to let the side down, Jared and Jensen agreed to allow the trip to continue despite their messy relationship. It turned out to be just as awkward as everyone had expected and fraught with drama none of the friends saw coming.

A TOWN CALLED KISMET

It was 1994 and Jensen Ackles was doing his best impersonation of someone who didn’t constantly have thoughts about other men on the brain. It had never sat right with him, being gay. He had never said it out loud, even to himself and then spent the rest of his time, burying it all under a false life which he hated with a passion. At thirty-two Jensen was seen by the people of Kismet, Iowa as successful. He had a good job, his own home, his own car and kept himself in favor within the community by lying about being a good little Christian too. His ‘friends’ and neighbors had taken to the version of Jensen he had created to hide himself away from the world and for seven long years, he had just about managed to keep it all neatly tucked away. But then, life has a funny way of throwing boys off buses in the middle of ‘Bumfuck Nowhere’ and into the path of closeted gay men.

THE BOYS WHO USED TO BE US

Jensen Ackles had moved on and so had his very private high school crush, Jared Padalecki. Jensen hadn’t gone quite as far as the star student he quietly wanted and for years, Jensen had always wondered what had become of the boy he once adored. We all leave echoes behind us wherever we go; discarded family and friends, legacies of achievements and memories left behind in the minds of everyone important who peopled our youth.

Jared Padalecki may have gone but for Jensen, there was something of a whisper of that boy wherever he went, a blanket of memories wrapped around him for all of his adult life. Little did he know, that soon, he would be making new memories with the boy who finally came home.

GOOD MORNING LOVELY

Jared Padalecki is a writer of ‘smut’. He gets paid for it but it’s not all that fulfilling. After being given a new project from his demanding publisher, Jared decides to go and research what it was really like, living in a small picture perfect town during Fall. He soon finds out that it’s much more meta than he was expecting.

IT’S ONLY A PAPER MOON

Jensen Ackles doesn’t believe in ghosts but then who does in the real world? When he returns home after a disastrous night out dressed as the ‘Leather Man’ from The Village People, Jensen discovers that he’s not alone in his apartment and hasn’t been, for a very long time.

PUMPKIN WARS

Jensen and Jared are newbies in a neighborhood they had no business being a part of but after a Hallowe’en themed run-in with the bossy leader of the Home Owners Association, they soon bring the community together by scaring everyone’s kids shitless.

THE LIGHTHOUSE

Jared Padalecki had shifted his life from city chaos to small town comfort because even at twenty-six he decided he needed a quiet life. Rockfort, Maine was precisely what he needed. The place came with views, beauty, endless seas, an unlikely friend and the peace and quiet Jared had been craving for a long time. The towns most prominent feature, the old but majestic 1800’s lighthouse which had been guiding and keeping people safe for almost two centuries became one of Jared’s many places of work and his favourite thing about Rockfort and he didn’t realize at the time, just how significant the lighthouse would become in shaping his future.

JARED WITH A HEART

Jensen Ackles had never been a lover of social media. He just couldn’t see the appeal of posting every detail about his life online for a bunch of strangers to see. Didn’t care what that bunch of strangers were doing either. Jensen lived in the real world and he liked it there. However, during his nephews birthday party, Jensen found himself in possession of his sisters phone, a self-proclaimed social media addict herself. Leanne had only meant to show him something but that small gesture led to Jensen finding love exactly how he always hoped he would.

VIRTUAL INSANITY

The year is 2073 and Cherry Computers have taken over that other fruit-based tech giant. A largely ethical company, Cherry know how to look after the employees who work in ‘Earth X’, the world’s first virtual reality world. The perks are great and endless and working inside a beta VR means that employees can be whoever they want and create their own worlds. However, living in a fantasy-land can lose its shine when human beings forget to live in the real world.

ANGEL FACE

Jared Padalecki had a problem but it only appeared to a problem for everyone else. Jared was a professional sugar baby and cam boy and he embraced it. After breaking up with his long-term sugar daddy, Jared is ‘head-hunted’ and offered a dubious job by a mysterious yet gorgeous man who had been watching him from the shadows.

NUTS ABOUT YOU

The town of Chestnut Hollow famously held a Christmas Carol Contest every year to coincide with their wholesome Christmas Market. Bookstore owner, Jensen Ackles who loved his hometown to pieces wasn’t always that enthralled by the influx of visitors to the sleepy, picturesque town he called home but after a frosty encounter with enthusiastic choir conductor, Jared Padalecki, Jensen is forced to find himself thoroughly and festively enthralled!

THE BOX OF DELIGHTS

Recently single and not by choice, Jensen Ackles also found himself stranded alone in New York after a bitter break-up. Being alone and away from family was the worst at any time of the year but the holiday season hit harder. After a talk with his mother, Jensen is encouraged to inject a little Christmas spirit into his life and so finds himself one Sunday morning at a flea market with Christmas decorations on his mind. Everything is old and tatty but an intriguing box takes his fancy which turns out to contain more ‘delights’ than he could have ever dreamed of.

HOT SANTA

Jared Padalecki was used to having everything fall into his lap. But he had never been lazy and had proved that by excelling at the life he had been handed. No one was ever truly one hundred percent happy though, even the privileged. Money could solve a lot of problems but not all of them. With only his therapist and endless hook-ups aware of his secret, Jared lived his life around his family firmly in the closet and money really couldn’t fix that problem. At the annual Padalecki Christmas party, Jared had always been in charge of supplying the visiting Santa Claus to keep his nieces and nephews happy and festive. With work being crazy that year, Jared forgot and found himself on page two of Google, desperately trying to find a last-minute Santa. As luck would have it, he found one and he wasn’t ideal, at least not as far as the kids were concerned.

LET’S FALL IN LOVE AND DO NOTHING

Self-proclaimed ‘North America’s Laziest Man’, Jensen Ackles has just quit his latest job. At the age of thirty-six, he suddenly realizes that it’s about time he made some changes to his life. After applying for a new position suggested by a friend, Jensen gets a job working as a house boy in Aspen over the Christmas holidays. All he has to do is cook the family meals, serve at the dinner table and not, under any circumstances, diddle the boss’s son.

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

It was Christmas Eve and trucker Jensen Ackles had found himself at his familiar truck stop in snowy Minnesota. Not wanting to spend the holidays alone, he expects to find the boy he often paid for sex to keep him company on Christmas Day but when he arrives the boy is nowhere to be found. To console himself, Jensen sits down to eat at the truck stop diner but is interrupted in his solitude by a disarming French fry thief who winds up changing the course of both of their lives.

BATTLE OF THE BALLS

After the chaos of Hallowe’en, new ‘gaybors’ Jensen and Jared have sunk perfectly into their blossoming relationship and successfully ousted evil Wendy as their HOA ‘dictator-in-chief’, almost. With the holiday season on the horizon, Jared is determined to take their festive decorations to another insane level. During that time they clash with Wendy once again and wind up as reluctant therapists after another neighbor seeks their advice.

FROM LONDON WITH LOVE

After moving to London, England for work and on the cusp of regretting his decision, Jared Padalecki finds himself alone at Christmas in a city with no friends. With work colleagues occupied for the duration of the holiday season and his family overseas, Jared can do little else but keep himself busy by exploring the city. On a rainy evening a few days before Christmas, Jared stumbles across a market and decides to try some warm spiced to cheer (and warm) himself up. While taking in the view of the River Thames, Jared is approached by a devastatingly handsome man who has a familiar cadence to his voice and within only minutes of meeting him, offers Jared a very festive but decent proposal.

[snow-tempest]

When people call wombs "the baby room" I'm like??? Bro, you got a nursery in there, or smth? Baby blue everything, painted stork on the wall, IKEA crib, whole 9 yards??? Damn. Well if yours is that, mine is an abandoned storage locker that's got like a million Star Wars comics, some skis, rats in the back, a stolen Walmart shopping cart, and my granny's busted china cabinet.

When I go to the gynecologist, its like a episode of Storage Wars. "Well, doc, how much can I get for the stuff in this abandoned unit?" My doctor looks at me incredulously, "The rats have eaten through everything valuable in the unit. You owe us $427 for leasing the space."

If anyone can dig Larry out, It'd be appreciated. He's eaten most of the comics and books, ah, but uh, he's a nice enough guy.

[luna-the-cretar]

Ough, I wish I could go and dig through all my old MLP toys, because i remember having quite a bit of them. I think I had Princess Twilight (and maybe regular Twilight), I might’ve had all of the Mane 6 except for Fluttershy, I think I even had Celestia and/or Cadence (tho I might be confusing them with Princess Twilight, idk, it’s been a decade), and that’s not counting the toys I had of background characters, and the knockoffs.

And also!!! I had distinctly remembered this one playset that came out shortly after the Canterlot Wedding special, and I remembered seeing the commercials for it, and really wanting it bc i LOVED that special (still do, it’s one of the few episodes i remember so clearly).

And I found it on Amazon, and I showed it to my mom and asked if my memory was correct, and!!! Turns out!!! It was!!! According to her, we had found it at a thrift store (with a few pieces missing, so it wasn’t brand new or anything), so it wasn’t like it was a big Christmas gift or anything, which might’ve been one of the reasons I didn’t remember it so clearly—because part of me wondered if I was just Mandela Effecting myself and thinking I had the set when I actually didn’t.

Ough. I think I might ask my mom if we can go and dig through the storage one day (if we even still have the unit), just to see if I can find any of my old toys. I’m certain some of them are unsalvageable, given the amount of time and the conditions, but idk. If I can even salvage ONE of my old toys, I’d be thrilled

Oh, and this was the playset btw. And I think I might’ve had its sister set, the Crystal Suite, but idk.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. xiii-

I seem to have forgotten what part i am on for this story (EDIT: I FIGURED IT OUT!). Hmmm... To be transparent: I've been sitting on this part now for about a month and did not post it right away for various reasons. And while it is short, it is important all the same.

@ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @demonic-panini @gwenlena @the-private-eye

CW for: grief, death of major character

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. BAIRD (REVOLUTIONARY): (VERY TIRED) This week on Brahma: Ester fell down the stairwell and busted her chin open. Iris had to give her stitches, and stitching a three-year-old toddler’s bleeding chin is not an easy feat.  Hank found a stray puppy in the street. The dog is in rough shape. Hank is determined to nurse it back to health though and train it to assist Talia. He said that if the dog lives, he plans on naming it Mischa.  (BAIRD SIGHS) I’m sorry. I don’t have anything else to say.  SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS AGAIN. NEXT RECORDING BEGINS.  WEAK VOICE:  We miss you, Charlie. We should have celebrated you turning twenty-one few months ago, but instead– (WHEEZING) Instead, this week, Baird is turning nineteen without you, I still can’t walk, and Eber is gone.  (HEAVY BREATHING) Iris says they have contacts in Saraswati. It’s where all the imports come from. Camilla is thinking about getting her and Eve off-planet. If they go, then that’s it. There’s no more Spades in Brahma.  I miss you, Charlie. I wish… you were here. You’d know what to do to make Baird stop crying. Sometimes, I wish it was me, and not you. I’d trade places with you in less than a breath. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS. 

Baird is: 1) tired and 2) 19. When I was that age, I was tired too. My mother was sick frequently, I didn’t know at the time but she was keeping a lot of secrets from me. 

The WEAK VOICE = Talia? Only logical answer I have to go off of

Mischa = Dog that Hank found. Somehow, it still surprises me that there were still dogs running around the streets of Brahma. Then again, babies were still being born, and birthdays were still being celebrated. Life finds a way. 

Baird mentions in later recordings that Camilla, Eber, and Evelyn are gone (“Decade”)

Questions:

What happened to Eber? 

Did Camilla successfully get her and Evelyn off-planet through the Saraswati connections?

Who are the Saraswati Connections?

UPDATE: After further digging of my own, Osiris Cygnet was from Saraswati, liked to vacation on Mars at the Oasis Resort, and frequented New Kinshasa to “admire its architecture”. I recognize some of the building styles in the photos of New Kinshasa. They look very similar to the types of buildings on Akna (just outside of the Outer Rim) and Surya (just past Brahma in the Outer Rim). 

Did Osiris have something to do with the Saraswati Connections? (Could help to explain why he had Baird’s Comms amongst his various other possessions in the storage unit.)

[kvtie-pie]

my husband and I unpacked our storage unit today, a task that was supposed to take only an hour or so. however while digging through the boxes we found a dead mouse and starting seeing a lot of mouse poop. so we spent hours in the bitter cold of the storage warehouse parking lot looking through every single box for signs of mice, and throwing out items that had been chewed up. thankfully we didn't find any other mice, and the damage was for the most part limited to two boxes. the best we could figure was that a lone mouse wandered in, rooted around for a little while, and eventually died. still a very unpleasant experience, and i feel deeply unclean.

[spinupthepornograph]

cw: some robotgirl non-con/dub-con.

You take your robot girl's personality card out, and she goes ragdoll.

You clip it into the new adapter that just arrived from aliexpress, then dig through some drawers and pull out a few more personality cards, clicking them all into the slots. The whole assembly goes back into your robogirl's chassis, and you wait a moment for the diagnostic lights to turn green.

You pull out the remote from the dusty package, and stick in a fresh battery. A single button press and the adapter clicks, and an LED blinks a few times. You close up her chassis and and long-press the power button on the back of her neck.

All her servos jerk momentary, then the light in her eyes comes back. Unfocused eyes look around rapidly, then see you, and she smiles.

"Master! Are you done with my upgrade?" "I sure am, my pet. Want to see what I've added?" "Of course, master!".

You help her to her feet, then tell her to stay there. You step back, and click the remote. Her eyes go fuzzy for a second, then come back. She drops to all fours, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She pants, looking up at you expectantly. You pull a tennis ball from your pocket, and gently toss it out the open workshop door and down the hallway.

She excitedly arfs and races out the door, still on all fours. You hear her rooting around the packages waiting around the door, then she emits a muffled happy "yip!" and there's the sound of rapid quadrupedal footsteps as she scrambles back into the room. She kneels at your feet, dropping the slightly-wet tennis ball at your feet, and looking up at you, smiling as wide as she can but saying nothing.

You tap the remote, and again she seems to fuzz out of it for a moment, and you hear the soft click of a relay turning over inside her. She looks around in confusion, and gets back up on her feet. "Master, what... why did I do that? I remember searching for the ball and bringing it back to you, but I don't remember why I did that! It's like I'm remembering someone else's memories!"

You show her the flimsy piece of paper that came with the adapter, and she quickly scans the badly auto-translated english text.

TELPO PM-04 Personality Multiplexer

attach every personality cards into slots A, B, & C, D

insert the card proxy into any Syntek Central Unit (48 only pin)

On attached remote, button press to select toggle active personality card slot

Use only CR3220 cell

Memory Storage is reserved to slot A, other cards will share space

"A personality multiplexer, master?" she says, looking up at you with some confusion.

"Yep! I can swap your consciousness out for one of my choice. Slot B has this.". You hand her the small box, and she goes over it quickly, turning it over in her hands. It's covered in pictures of puppies, and advertises an accurate simulation of a loving "pupper", compatible with any Syntek chassis on the market.

"You turned me into a dog?!"

You rarely get her flustered enough to forget to address you properly. It's cute, though you'll have to punish her later for it. It might be your imagination, but you swear you can hear her fans spinning a little faster at the revelation...

"More or less. I pretty much just put you on pause, while letting a different personality take over your body. And I can do that at the click of a button!" You hold up the remote, showing her the four unlabeled buttons. "Want to see what's in slot C?" You reach towards the button, intentionally slowly...

She reaches out her arms "No! I mean, No thanks, master. Maybe I can look at the boxes first? I'd like to know more about what I'll be before we test it out."

You smile as devilishly as you can manage. "I don't know, that doesn't sound like something little dolls get to choose. Maybe you'd enjoy some time as a mindless sexbot?" Her already-big eyes manage to go wider, and she reaches forward for the remote impudently. You slam the button, and she stops mid-reach.

A moment later, she drops to her knees, and opens her mouth. She says nothing, as sexbots don't need speech synthesis routines. "I'm going to have a lot of fun with this", you think. Mainly in making her remember what you're going to make her do... You unzip your fly, and she leans forward hungrily.

[cuprohastes]

I shall now pick this object up...

Garf, Un-Named Male, Phalanges Mittens and Cat Fantastic were in theory working on part of the live ecosystem reclamation down in Sanitation.

Not an especially unusual situation, since they were after all, really high tech sanitation engineers from the future; or from their point of view, Life Support Tech.

A job's a job and people like to breathe clean air, not die of 'drinking water' or have to wade through sewage of any level.

The issue had been traced to monitoring probe that was hallucinating, and thus the apparent issue had been resolved in two minutes of work, three of swearing at a stuck bolt, and ten of getting Cat Fantastic to go get the replacement part, which had led to a long discussion between Garf and Un-Named male about how weird it was to see a Little Guy without a Big Atrix.

"Yes -- but Cat drives that tool trolley around, so it helps." Phalanges said, referring to the robotic workbench nicknamed "The Office".

The workbench was originally designed to follow a worker around, but since Phlanges didn't have a pouch for his Little Guy the way Garf did,t he and Dave had converted the thing to keep Cat warm.

Later, once they got the manual remote replaced by a unit Cat could use, they'd added a basket for snacks so Cat could do a drinks and sandwich run to the Cafeteria, and a cargo box to haul parts and tools.

Around then Dave herself showed up and took a professional look through the viewport at huge tray of essentially very wet dirt that a variety of mosses and fungi and earth plants were cohabiting on.

Dave of course was the certified expert in this system, so it behoved her to stick her snout in and take a look-see.

"Stuck gas probe?" she guessed and then rather theatrically reached in and picked up a bottle of Lychee soda from the snack storage using two claws.

Garf and the two Little Guys reacted appropriately with amazement and Phalanges who was actually Human and usually fairly good at this stuff had to say, "OK what am I missing?".

Almost everyone held up their hands.

Phalanges looked around and then held up his hand.

"Oh. Oh!" he said.

Tsin have three fingers and an opposable thumb. All of them have large, sturdy digging claws.

Atrix have two fingers and two thumbs, which have thick, conical claws.

Terrafruit Fruits of Earth (Tee Em) bottles have no claws but are very smooth and incredibly hard to hold unless one get's their palm and fingers around it... and Dave had lifted it human style.

Dave's not human. She's a Tsin. This may or may not have been mentioned before.

Phalanges, biologically human but extremely well integrated with non-human ergonomics gets it.

"OK... I can tell you're dying to show off." he said.

"You bet your sweet bippy I am!" said Dave who's mastery of colloquial English was charmingly archaic.

She held out a hand and on examination: There were silicone pads fixed in place on the inside curve of her claws - Textured pads.

"Hang on, is that...?" said Phalanges, and Dave said "Yes! Fingerprints!"

"Who's?"

"Nobody's. It's a generated, semi symmetrical pattern, and they're all the same." explained Dave. "They're called Humanfingers."

"A name that will not cause any confusion or sound weird and creepy." said Phalanges wryly. "Though I can see the use."

"Yeah. They were invented on the station." Dave said proudly. "And I think the marketing lab is working on the name. As per normal it's Eat your Own Mushrooms time so I have been Authorised to distribute everyone's test sets. Let me just reach into my pocket..."

Dave made a show of taking out individual packets with just her claw tips. Two small sets for Un-Named Male and Cat Fantastic. One for Garf, who started by helping un-named Male get his on so he could help her.

Phalanges took the hint and helped his Little Guy, and soon Cat was practicing with them on The Office's control pad, Un-Named male doing some backseat driving.

"And of course, because the computer was told to automate the manufacturing and disbursement for all non-humans based on staff profiles..." said Dave with glee.

"Oh no." said Phalanges and held out a hand.

Dave dropped the last packet into his hand. It contained ten thimble like objects with oval pads on each.

"The print team were so amused when they got the error that they didn't have the right biometric data that they whipped up a unique set for you." Dave told her buddy.

Phalanges - Priorly the other Dave of Dave The Human and Dave the Human ceremoniously put them all on and made menacing finger wiggles. "You know this means that I can no longer be identified for my many future crimes via fingerprint." he said.

Dave looked at Garf, who shrugged and said, "Don't look at me. This monster... you created."

[void-botanist]

📝❤️&❓- which characters of yours are your favorites to write?

📝 what stages are you currently in your WIPs?

Which one I'm actively working on varies wildly - I've actually been mostly working on kiss scenes (which I'm about 80% done with) and that quasi-canonical Sheri story (which I'm about 25% done with) - but for my 4 main wips:

TFA: trying to dig into Anni and Zel's dynamic and figure out how to tie together Anni and Dez's separate trajectories, thematically or otherwise. They spend a lot of the story in two different places doing two different things. Because of shifting things around I'm not sure how much actually will stay in this draft but let's say I've written like 20% of a full draft.

Triad: haven't actually worked on this one in a while, and I will be starting a new draft when I get back to it. I've been replotting it to make the plot align more with non-romance goals such as stealing birds and also give us more time with Keearo's family.

AOM: like TFA, suffering from "what do you mean I have to write the middle", though to be fair I also haven't been motivated to write most of the beginning stuff in Ensaum because I need a better hook for myself than Colin & Sid's weird doomed romance. The next thing to do is flesh out the dynamics that will be present on Phil's boat when Horatio, Sid, Sorian, and Avis all join her for the trip to Imni. It's not pretty.

Nicea: extremely fragmentary and coming together as I think of more things. Next on my loose list is to write Isabel saying goodbye to Darnell (has Darnell actually gotten married? is he pregnant again? I have many questions) and maybe get back to the sex scene between her and Tatya. I also need to orchestrate a meltdown for Declan and write Spinder working with the engineering bay gear.

❤️ what are your favorite scenes from your WIPs?

AOM: Avis unintentionally making Sorian choke on his water because she needed to be mean Right Now. Also Horatio talking about funerals over toast like it's the most normal thing in the world. Sid's face off against his parents and also his sexy scenes with Colin. Emma fucking tearing into Donovan about the letters the second he comes in the door.

Nicea: Fabian and his vibrator necklace. The scene where Tristan accidentally breaks the gravity. Tatya's introduction. Rodney's adventure to find the keys to Declan's storage unit, mostly because Martin and Kara are my favorites forever. Also probably any scene where someone is having a chat with Tatya. Cady and Declan's various reunion scenes.

TFA: one that hasn't made it into the current draft where Dez is sitting under the stars with Nidilaenn and Ellery and tries rooting for the first time. Vinnek's introduction. Dez getting in trouble for saying bad words at the library. Anni and Zel chatting on the train. Another scene that may or may not happen in the current draft but I feel like it should - Dez talking to Hoven one on one for the first time over translation work. Anni talking books with Mel. Anni making it through customs with Dez in a suitcase (this one might be my most favorite actually).

❓which characters of yours are your favorites to write? This is such a fun one. A few that I particularly enjoy writing:

Avis. I just Get her voice. It helps that she's opinionated as hell

Syndy. Same deal as Avis but also android. Actually all of the androids are so fun to write

Tirias. My baby. Mx. Women Are My Favorite Guy but she's both the women and the guy. Just so full of sass and drama and in love with the world

Rolf and also Snap. They're just my goofy sexy lil guys

Bean. He's one of those magical children's book guides like Mary Poppins except he's just a regular human middle school teacher (this is part of his magic) and also transmasc (for Red at least this is also part of his magic)

Julian. He's not easy to write exactly but I just really like him and think he's interesting. He is the most guy forever

Leon and Edith. They're so full of life, laughter, and sarcasm and they play off of each other so well

Martin and Kara. Like Leon and Edith except more understated. Martin is always leaning against something amicably and Kara is always doing something and they're very in love your honor

Isabel. She's not quite as easy to write as Avis even though they have some of the same vibes, however, I feel like I did myself such a disservice not writing from her perspective in Old Canon. Also she curses a lot and it kinda seems like the more curses the more fun it is

Graham. The way he speaks is directly based off Bill and Ted. The kind of person who would say "women are my favorite guy" and take a refined sip from his space Red Bull

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites