#grove WAD

[m39]

Doom WADs’ Roulette (2004): Grove

After his 2001 WAD, Equinox (link to my review: ==>), we welcome once again an alien in disguise known as B.P.R.D. This time, we will be taking a look at one of the two WAD projects that were connected with him. And we are going straight through the rabbit hole with this one.

G4: Grove

Main author(s): B.P.R.D

Release date: January 26th, 2004 (original release)/February 26th, 2004 (database upload)

Version played: Original version

Required port compatibility: ZDoom (and probably any port that is not Boom)

Levels: 1 (MAP01 replacement)

Like in my Equinox review, I played this map before, primarily due to Dean of Doom spoiler tagging it. And let me tell you something: there was a reason why he did that.

Grove is... unique. It is some of the most intriguing Doom maps I’ve played in the past (at least by 2004 standards). Almost everything in this map feels so bizarre that you feel like there needs to be a sequel just to increase the lore or whatever there is in the map’s world.

Now, let’s dive into this map further to see what secrets it hides.

Don’t we all hate Chaingunners? Not only do they tend to ruin your fun by being the most obnoxious hitscanners in Classic Doom but turns out they can also steal your crops. The latter thing happened to our hero of this map: Being sick of some Hoovy (here called Smugla) stealing his mushrooms, he grabbed a gun and went after the Fatass through the hole he came out. After climbing out of the tunnel Smugla made from another side, he ended up in some inhuman place near the robber’s house, surrounded by forest. Our hero finds a map with an X in its upper-left corner. Thinking that this is where more mushrooms are (after taking what was near the Hoovy’s house) he decides to go there.

This map looks... fooking hell, it’s something incredible. Sure, it’s mostly just a shit ton of forest around you, but the atmosphere of this map and the mystery of its world is what makes it great. Once again, B.P.R.D’s unorthodox thinking and planning are shown in his body of work at his best.

And Grove’s music track makes it even better.

It’s something really alien in it but also calming at the same time. I know, I’m not saying much but, words can only barely describe what happens on this map.

Your task on this map is rather simple: collect three skulls and put them on three pedestals with hands to exit the map. Typical stuff for a Doom map but getting each skull is where it gets interesting:

Blue skull is inside the tomb, where the ruins are. To access it, you must travel to the hidden stone circle (by the teleporter hidden in the woods where the map shows) and press the skull switch to unlock the tomb.

Red skull is in the cemetery but the entrance to it is barricaded. There is another passage through the cave, however. Don’t forget to press a hidden switch on one of the steps to come out the other side.

Yellow skull is inside the Smugla’s vault. You can open it with one of the switches in Grove Central. And the skull is actually a decaying head of a bisected Arch-vile.

But the way of getting the skulls is not the only interesting thing in Grove. The map that you will find doesn’t show the topography of the level. It’s more like a treasure map, showing you only clues about what is where.

You might also notice some 45 degrees turned squares on a map. These are actually secrets. There are five of these, and by finding all of them you can gain access to the super secret. I won’t tell you what the secret is. I will only say that you can get a Plasma Gun with a shit-ton of ammo to help you.

As I mentioned earlier, Grove mostly takes place in the forest, surrounding you from everywhere. And while it’s not a problem, it becomes one when you have to move between the trees to get to important places and/or secrets. It gets especially annoying when you try to find a small, stone circle, where you will be moving from one end of that part of the forest to another just to accidentally step on it. I can promise you that it might take you a few minutes at best at your blind walkthrough when you finally find it. And I’m not even talking about getting out of the forest.

Also, let me tell you that this map tends to look really dark in some of the sector light modes. You won’t be able to see almost anything. If you have trouble with that, you can set it on Legacy or something else that can give you some brighter lighting.

Now, before I’ll move on, let me tell you something. If you get stuck at the beginning of the map, take a look at one of the bookcases inside the house.

Grove can get challenging sometimes despite having only 57 enemies on HMP. The first good idea is to get the Super Shotgun from the well before getting even close to one of the points with the exclamation mark shown on the map (remember to drain the water near hands first).

The main reason why this map is difficult is due to the severely limited ammo. Unless you know where the secrets are, you will not have ammo to deal with the final army of hell Nobles at the very end of the map, nor with Smugla himself.

Yes, Smugla appears as an enemy. Thankfully, or rather unthankfully, he is nothing more but a reskin of Spider Demon. If you brought Plasma Gun from the Super Secret with you, he will go down easily.

I’ve encountered some bugs while playing Grove. The most noticeable one was with the secret that has a big mushroom. For some reason, the area that covers its surrounding with shadows has a ceiling with a floor texture on it... WHAT?!

I have no explanation for this. Maybe it’s related to the newer versions of ZDoom/GZDoom.

Also, I noticed a small square of void near the generator behind Smugla’s house.

There is more of this stuff written in the text file. I think there was a bigger chance for those to appear in the past than now since I didn’t encounter any of these.

Grove may not be a masterpiece (trees are the main con) but I think it’s still awesome. It’s something that feels like it shouldn’t work and yet everything clicks in the right place. This map is one of the two reasons why B.P.R.D got named the Mapper of the Year in Cacowards 2004. And he made this map in almost two weeks! This is insane!

And also, if you want more, here’s Dean of Doom part where he talks about this map (part starts at 17:12):

I hope my experience with Grove won’t ruin my time with the next map on the 2004 roster.

See you next time.

Bye!

...

WARNING

SPOILERS OF THE SUPER SECRET BEHIND THE WALL

Huh... I always wondered if an author of Grove is an alien.

[bloodlessbhaalbabe]

Pleading the Fifth

Rating: Explicit

Length: 10,059 Words

Summary:

A modern AU romance where Halsin is the CEO of "The Grove" and Astarion is his personal lawyer. They have been pining over one another secretly for years. Finally, they get a night where they are entirely alone at The Grove headquarters.

BIG , BIG THANKS TO @tatterings and @lotsofthinkythoughts FOR LETTING ME HOUND YOU WITH SMUT ALL THE TIME SO I COULD FINISH AND POST THIS

Posted on AO3 & Below:

With his forehead pressed against the darkened passenger window, the city lights of Fae Rûncisco were a distorted blur in the distance. The silent driver expertly navigated through the narrow, steep hills that converged on the shores of the harbor.

The passenger swirled the crystal glass in his hand, sending condensation cascading down the sides. It left a damp semi-circle on his freshly-pressed hemp trousers. The bitter liquid inside was still untouched. It was a prop, rather than a true drink; something to wrap his hands around when he didn’t know what to do with them. It also allowed him to blend in with his coworkers; and to be privy to discussions that otherwise might not occur without their guards being let down.

A soft squealing of brake pads announced their arrival at the ivy-covered tower. It loomed above him, obscuring his view of the starless night sky. The driver parked the car, flipped on the hazard lights, and unfastened his seatbelt. The passenger lifted his head from the window as the driver rounded to open his door.

“Shall I stay and wait for you, sir?” the driver asked, as the man stepped out of the car. The passenger threw his suit jacket over his shoulder and tossed his beverage into the bushes before turning to give his driver a soft smile.

“No, Rath, why don’t you head home to your wife?” he replied in a low voice, heavy with exhaustion. “I’ll catch up on some work and see you in the morning.”

“If you’re sure, sir? I don’t mind,” Rath replied.

The man bent to place the glass on the seat before patting down his pants pockets. He retrieved a small wad of bills and sifted through the first few to count, before shrugging and placing the entire stack in his driver’s hand.

“Treat her to some flowers and wine. Tell her I am sorry for pulling you away from your anniversary. It’s not your fault that I hate driving,” the passenger said. He stepped up to the curb. “The night is still young, Rath. If you need me to make accommodations for another driver in the morning, please let me know.”

“I will, sir. Nettie understands. T-Thank you, Mr. Woods. Have a good night,” the driver said with a stammer. Rath knew not to argue with his boss over any tip he was given, or at the insinuation of taking a day off. Despite it being a regular occurrence, it never ceased to surprise him that he worked for a man with so much power; let alone one who still treated every person with kindness and utmost respect.

“You as well,” replied Mr. Woods kindly, speaking over his shoulder and dismissing Rath with a wave ‘goodbye’. He pulled the retractable badge from his waist and pressed it against the scanner. The doors unlocked with a quiet click.

Mr. Woods strode past the elevator and pulled open the door to the stairwell. This was yet another dual-purpose habit of his: it was both the “greener”, energy efficient option, and it also gave him time to think. In his 10 years of owning the building, he had never run into anyone in the stairwells. He enjoyed the privacy they offered; it granted him time to run through the day ahead or get lost in his thoughts. He also enjoyed the health benefits of taking the stairs every day. He could have gotten away with indulging in the luxury of the lift, especially this late at night, but he preferred to not take the risk.

Thirty-six floors to the top. Seventy-two flights of stairs. The man, feeling the strain and heat from exertion, pulled at his bowtie and left it unraveled at his collar. He popped open the first few buttons of his powder white shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, the fabric straining slightly over his muscles. His heart pounded in his ears as he continued, chest heaving with each flight.

Once he reached the top, he opened the door with a groan, kicking off his shoes and discarding his jacket on the floor. He released the elastic band that was wrapped around his hair, letting his auburn locks fall, and ran a hand through the damp strands.

As he approached his office, he noticed a light within; above a desk lamp, a dark figure leaned on his desk, both hands pressed against the top, examining something strewn over the surface. He crept closer, and leaned against the doorframe, which creaked under the pressure of the large man.

He flicked on the overhead lights. The now-illuminated figure jumped backwards, gasping, startled by the sudden company. The large man met his gaze. A smirk danced across his face as his intruder’s green eyes blinked in the sudden light. The larger man crossed his arms and bit his lip to suppress a laugh. He enjoyed seeing his typically-composed lawyer all flustered. It was an interesting change of pace from their usual friendly, sometimes flirty, professional banter.

“By the gods, Mr. Woods, you nearly sent me to an early grave,” the man cried, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What are you even doing here? I thought you had a fundraiser tonight?”

“You know me. Last one to show up and the first to leave, but I could be asking you the same question, Astarion. You are in my office,” he replied, nodding toward the nameplate on the door.

Astarion closed the manila folder that he had been studying, and stacked the documents into an orderly pile. “Something urgent came up. I was preparing everything for next week for our meeting, but since you’re here–”

“If it wasn't urgent enough to bring up tonight, then it can wait until Monday.”

“Mr. Woods–”

“Halsin.”

“I– Halsin, please–”

Halsin smiled, his eyes glittered mischievously. They had known each other for years. Astarion knew almost everything about Halsin, but Astarion didn’t speak much about his personal life. Whenever Halsin talked about his own interests, he would only get a sneak peek into who Astarion was outside of work. He genuinely liked Astarion. He appreciated the work ethic and passion of his lawyer, but he desperately wanted to know more about him. More than just what they had in common.

“Have a drink with me, Astarion,” Halsin said, cocking his head to the side.

Astarion opened and closed his mouth. His mind reeled for any valid excuse to bring them back to the topic at hand, but he knew that Halsin didn’t work off-hours and to argue would be pointless.

Taking the man’s silence as a “yes”, Halsin pushed from the doorframe and stepped into the room, padding over to his desk. He reached beside Astarion to open his lower desk drawer. He retrieved two thin-rimmed glasses and an unlabeled bottle from the back, and nestled them in the crook of his arm. He used his foot to shut the drawer; it rattled closed with a bang.

“Follow me,” Halsin winked and nodded toward the door. He had a smile that traveled all the way up to his eyes. Astarion rolled his eyes before returning the smile.

Astarion wasn’t sure what to expect from this. It wasn’t common for clients to want to spend time with him outside of normal business hours. But he knew that Halsin was anything but common. He wasn’t like any of the other white collar folks he represented or with whom he begrudgingly associated.

Astarion had laughed more in his meetings with Halsin than any other client, or really, any other person. They often found themselves deep in an elongated tangent that stemmed from a forgotten work-related topic. Seeing Halsin every week had been something to look forward to and, despite it toeing the line of professionalism, it was nice to have a friend.

Halsin slipped by Astarion and sauntered out of the office. Astarion followed closely behind Halsin as he made his way over to the stairwell. They stepped over the remnants of Halsin’s outfit on the floor, and walked up one more flight of stairs to the roof.

The evening air was warm and comfortable; with a light breeze that tousled Astarion’s soft, white curls. The majority of the surface area of the roof was covered in a dense clover lawn. When Halsin created The Grove and bought the company tower all those years ago, he had a vision for the architectural design of the facility. He wanted a mini-oasis into which he could retreat during the hardest work days. On the roof, much like in the deserted stairwell, he found himself in solitude, and lost in thought.

The pergolas had dense, green mosquito netting on each side, with entrances that could be opened or shut for privacy. Thick vines of ivy traveled up from the side of the building itself, and trailed onto the wooden planks of the pergolas’ tops, offering protection to the plush furniture inside.

Astarion sucked in a deep breath as he observed his surroundings: the darkened street below, and then out to the harbor beyond. Living in the city was convenient for his job, but the rooftop reminded him of all the color there was in the world. He lost track of the last time he spent a day outside the dull concrete towers he frequented. He tended to forget how much he missed the simplicity of fresh air.

“So, why did you leave the party early?” Astarion prompted, turning around to push the draped netting aside and stepping into the pergola. He watched Halsin with interest as the man prepared their drinks. He waltzed over to where Halsin sat, running his elegant fingers through his white curls.

“Have a taste first, and let me know what you think,” Halsin replied, pulling an annoyed sigh from Astarion. Halsin popped open the bottle and filled the glasses with the drink from the decanter. It sparkled in the thin-rimmed glass as Halsin handed the drink to the lawyer. Astarion nodded in thanks as he gingerly plucked the glass from Hasin’s hand.The larger man clinked their glasses together and took a large sip, smacking his lips at the sweet, tart flavor.

“You really are avoidant tonight, you know,” Astarion said. He obliged regardless, pulling in a mouthful of the bubbly drink and letting it swirl around his mouth before swallowing. His eyebrows raised as he pursed his lips in pleasant surprise. He hummed with appreciation. “This is… delightful! Refreshing even.”

“Thank you,” Halsin said enthusiastically, a smile tugging at his cheeks, “I made it myself. It’s hard honey cider made from homegrown Ashmead Kernel apples. I imported seedlings from The High Forest near the village I grew up in. It took me four years to gather just thirty apples to create this single bottle of cider. Well, this and a taster jar of course.”

Astarion let out a laugh, shaking his head. He always found himself impressed with Halsin; the man’s dogged determination allowed him to succeed in nearly every field in which he’d dared to explore. “Darling, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Feign interest in the lives of the mundane elites,” he replied honestly, tossing back his glass, and leaning forward to fill it again. Halsin did not notice the raised eyebrows of his companion. He pressed his back into the couch and fidgeted with his hands, his fingernails clicking away at the rim of the glass.

Astarion pushed aside one of Halsin’s legs from the sectional and plopped down adjacent to him. His movements jostled Halsin’s arm, causing rivulets of cider to spill over the edge of his cup and drip down Halsin’s arm. Halsin shook his head and lapped up the sticky liquid with his tongue.

“It truly must be hard being the most interesting man in the room,” Astarion joked, making Halsin snort incredulously. He leaned onto his side, peering over at his boss with an open palm pressed to the side of his head.

From this high up, they could barely hear the sounds of the cars driving below. Only a gust of wind rustling the netting and ivy leaves around them disturbed the quiet air.

Tufts of Halsin’s hair fell in front of his face. Astarion’s grip on his glass tightened, as he fought the urge to tuck it behind his boss’ ear. He felt his concentration waning as he blinked up at Halsin, admiring his chiseled jaw, the scars on his forehead, his broad barreled chest, and his fitted clothes stretched to their limits. Astarion’s mind often drifted in his presence.

“That is the unfortunate side of it. The party wasn’t about what I am capable of doing, or what my passions are. No one asks about the purpose of the fundraiser. No one cares. It’s superficial. It’s only about what their money can buy them, so it can directly benefit themselves,” Halsin ranted, releasing a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged as he finished his drink. “Societies should be judged based on how they treat their most vulnerable. And I feel foolish for even complaining because now…. I’ve become a part of the problem too.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better I care about you…and I get to reap the benefits of your passions,” Astarion replied with a warm smile, clinking his glass against Halsin’s once more. Halsin leaned closer to Astarion, dropping his voice to a low grumble. He could smell his bergamot cologne dabbed behind his ears.

“But I am paying you to be here, Astarion,” he retorted, placing his empty glass on the table.

“Not right now. I’m paid by the hour and you declined my offer to discuss business. So, I suppose…I am here as a friend,” Astarion stated matter-of-factly. His curls bounced with each word as he dramatically fluttered his hand in dismissal.

Halsin smiled and let out a soft chuckle. He deeply admired the man in front of him. He was grateful that the majority of the politics weren’t on his plate and he had someone who understood the ins and outs of legalese. Halsin was only supposed to be a climate scientist, after all.

In return for his services, Halsin paid Astarion handsomely. After a while, Astarion even declined the offer of excess funds, inspired by Halsin’s kindness and his belief that it would be best spent elsewhere. Halsin decided to place those funds in a separate account and donated it to a charitable cause under his friend’s name instead.

Halsin did not know when this fondness for him bloomed. Somewhere between the hours spent locked in one of The Grove’s meeting rooms or up on the rooftop, he found himself lost while watching Astarion. Halsin hyper-fixated on Astarion’s plump, pink lips . Or he imagined himself in the lawyer’s lap, undoing the buttons of his shirt. His inattention likely frustrated Astarion to no end, as the lawyer had to repeat himself constantly.

Halsin could brush it off as a crush… if it had only been an attraction for his beautiful face. But there was so much more to Astarion. He was the only person who genuinely made Halsin laugh. He had a subtle kindness which he demonstrated through small, significant gifts; he always procured a large, steaming cup of Halsin’s favorite tea whenever they met, or sent him articles he thought Halsin would find interesting. They shared interest in the same sorts of books, and often read them at the same time so they could have a discussion about them.

When it came to work, Astarion, outside of actual business needs, had always made his counsel available for no charge; Halsin was sure that he had other clients who would pay top-dollar for his advice. He often found his stomach in knots when thinking about what he shared with Astarion, and he battled with himself on whether to ask if his lawyer was interested in sharing more. He felt silly, like a highschool crush, wondering if Astarion had a significant other; the man had always managed to be more reserved about his personal life, despite their many years of friendship and working together. Halsin was surprised to realize how little he knew about Astarion, despite feeling like he knew the man intimately well.

Astarion downed his drink and placed it on the table. He licked his lips to taste the lingering tartness and turned back to Halsin.

“What did you mean when you said you were foolish for complaining? That you are a part of the problem,” Astarion asked, pulling Halsin back into reality. Halsin met his gaze, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“Am I not just another billionaire who says earnestly that ‘money can’t buy you happiness?’ I could have everything I ever wanted, and I do, yet it is still not enough. I am not doing enough. I am furthering the cycle of using money to satisfy the people who don’t deserve it…on blind faith that they will actually let me do something good with their donations.” Halsin dragged a hand through his long, auburn locks and then down his face. “I wasn’t supposed to be here, Astarion. I am so lucky to have experienced all of this, and yet I don’t want any of it. It feels wrong to live so lavishly when there are so many people still suffering.”

“You are foolish,” Astarion replied, giving in to his urge, and tucking that piece of hair behind Halsin’s ear. His hand lingered against his cheek. “ But only in the sense that you are selfless to a fault. You have lost sight of all of the good you have done in the world. When your uncle’s fracking drill blew up, which you played no part in, who paid for the entire clean up and conservation of the ocean? Who dismantled the company that made it happen? Who donates their entire paycheck each month to local shelters, foster families, and addiction clinics? Who completely rebuilt the filtration system for an entire city when their water supply was spoiled?”

Halsin rolled his eyes and looked away bashfully. A blush crept across his cheeks. He never expected praise when it came to the things he did. All he ever wanted to do was make a positive impact on the world. It seemed like he was constantly making up for the consequences of other people’s actions and it was disheartening.

Astarion cupped Halsin’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. Halsin’s eyes widened and sucked in a quick breath. Astarion shook his head and smiled softly.

“Halsin, no one else cares but you. The love you have for the world and its inhabitants has impacted hundreds of thousands of people. Somehow you’re one of the rare few that hasn’t been corrupted by power and money, and even better, you despise it. You are kind and considerate. You are passionate and loving. You are thoughtful and creative. You are humble and so beautiful. You are unmatched, beyond comparison.”

Astarion paused. He was closer to Halsin than he had ever been before. His eyes trailed down from his eyes to his lips, watching as Halsin dragged his tongue over it. Halsin swallowed, his mouth watered and his chest heaved at Astarion’s proximity, his heart pounding in his ears.

Astarion glanced up to meet Halsin’s eyes only to find them cast down at his own lips.

Caught up in his whirl of emotions, he pulled Halsin into a kiss. Halsin moaned in surprise and melted into his embrace, immediately returning the kiss.

Halsin’s hand grabbed at the lawyer’s shirt to pull him closer. Astarion pulled away first, breath catching in his throat, lips red and plump. He looked at Halsin as if waiting for him to move away, but his hands stayed wrapped up in the collar of his shirt.

“Sorry, I–... I didn’t mean–” Astarion whispered.

“No, I-I want this,” Halsin panted, tightening his grip on the collar of Astarion’s shirt, “I want you.”

Astarion blinked in surprise. They flirted from time to time, but he didn’t think that Halsin had thought anything of it. He wasn’t one to question anyone’s sexuality. He was almost positive that Halsin knew about his preferences, but it amazed him to think that Halsin was interested in him too. Without a second thought, Astarion removed his glasses, set them on the table, and moved to straddle Halsin’s lap.

Halsin’s chest heaved, feeling a little lightheaded and momentarily flabbergasted that the sole object of his desire for the past few years actually wanted him too. He no longer had to imagine what it would be like to touch him. To be able to feel his muscles under his fingers and press the smaller man against him. He felt himself harden in anticipation.

Astarion reveled in the way Halsin’s strong hands slid down his back and squeezed his thighs. Halsin leaned up and pressed his lips against Astarion’s jaw, tongue and mouth working their way toward his ear and then his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as Halsin moved to the other side of his neck; it made his cock twitch and swell in his trousers.

Astarion wrapped his arms around the larger man’s neck and pulled him into another kiss, nipping at his lip. Halsin opened his mouth and let their tongues explore. Desire pooled at the base of Halsin’s stomach and settled into his groin. Halsin spread his legs and leaned further back into the couch.

His hands gripped onto the lawyer’s shirt and untucked it from his pants, letting his fingers graze across sensitive skin. Astarion pressed himself down into Halsin and rolled his hips, feeling the larger man’s excitement growing between his legs. Halsin groaned into Astarion’s mouth and pushed against him. His fingers unfastened the buttons revealing silky, pale skin. Halsin peppered kisses from his sternum down, as Astarion worked around him to unclasp his lover’s shirt.

Halsin looked up at Astarion, his pupils blown out with desire as Astarion cradled Halsin’s face in his hands smiling through his heavy breaths. “I am hesitant to admit how often I let my mind wander when it came to the possibility of being with you,” he said. “I didn’t know you thought of me that way and I never wanted to press in case I was wrong.”

“And to think we could have done this months ago,” Astarion laughed softly. He leaned back and watched as Halsin’s eyes trailed up and down his body as though he wanted to etch the image of him into his mind forever.

“If I may, Astarion, you are stunning. You are a masterpiece. Carved with delicate hands. I could write sonnets about your beauty.”

Astarion blushed a rich shade of red. He huffed out a laugh, smiling sheepishly. “Mr. Woods, with the way you’re behaving, I have a feeling you have a whole litany of poems written about me already.”

“It’s not the minutes I am writing when I am in meetings with you,” Halsin smiled and unbuckled Astarion’s belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it on the floor. He pressed his palm up against Astarion’s clothed length, and admired Astarion’s mouth as it dropped open. The lawyer’s small gasps turned into moans, falling from his beautiful, bruised lips, as Halsin stroked him through his slacks.

Halsin’s eager fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down the zipper, sliding his hand below the waistband. He wrapped his large hand around Astarion’s aching erection, pulling it free from its prison. Astarion sat up and pushed down his pants to his thighs before perching back on Halsin’s lap. Halsin rubbed a thumb over Astarion’s slit, pre-cum spreading around the sensitive head and down his shaft.

He slowly pumped his hand up and down Astarion’s length, watching as the man above him twitched and gasped with each pull. Astarion was not lacking in length in the slightest, despite Halsin’s hand nearly covering the entirety of his shaft. He felt enveloped with each tug, squeeze, and twist. Astarion captured Halsin’s mouth with his, parting his lips, tasting the sweet honey cider that lingered on his tongue. His hand gripped at the long hair on the back of Halsin’s head, his hips slowly rocking against the larger man’s calloused fingers.

Astarion’s hands relinquished their grasp and slid down Halsin’s hairy chest, stopping only for a moment to tease his taut nipples. Halsin moaned into his mouth as he continued down and unfastened Halsin’s trousers. Astarion paused for a moment as Halsin twisted his wrist on the head of his cock, sending chills down his spine, shuddering through the movements.

Astarion pulled away from his lips and pressed his knees into the couch on either side of Halsin’s thighs.

“Come on, Halsin, don’t be shy,” Astarion said feverishly. His hands gripped the waistline of Halsin’s pants.

Halsin lifted up his rear from the couch for a moment as Astarion yanked down the other man’s slacks. Halsin’s engorged cock slid from his underwear and hit him in the stomach with a slap. Halsin hissed at the contact and brought his hand up to grasp around his girth, while still squeezing Astarion with his other.

Astarion gulped at the sight. He knew Halsin was big. There’s no way a man of his stature wouldn’t be supporting something significant below the belt. But Astarion’s thoughts were not as generous as they should have been. Halsin was massive, a couple inches longer and girthier than his own, and just as tan as the rest of him. At the base, Halsin’s hair gathered, curly and unkempt.

He watched as Halsin stroked a heavy hand up his shaft, his foreskin languidly rising over his head and then pulled taut on the downstroke. He caught Halsin’s eyes trailing from their swollen arousals and up until he met his gaze. Halsin released the hand wrapped around Astarion, making him whimper in protest, and raised it to his lips.

“Spit,” he demanded. Astarion’s cock twitched at the command. His mouth was already involuntarily watering.

Astarion obediently collected his saliva and pushed it out into Halsin’s hand. Halsin’s hand fell back down and coated both of their members with Astarion’s spit, mixing in the drops of pre-cum. Astarion shifted his hips forward. Halsin wrapped both of his large hands around their lengths and pressed them together, making Astarion buck in response. Astarion slowly started to thrust within his hands, the pressure and warmth from Halsin underneath him making his head fall back. He felt the older man’s eyes on him, enjoying the beauty of his lover using him to please himself.

“Gods, Halsin,” Astarion moaned breathily. He rested his head against Halsin’s shoulder and reached underneath his lover’s hands, pulling and massaging their balls. Halsin grunted as his hips jolted, tightening his grip on their cocks. Their heads messily slid over the other as Astarion continued to rut and tug, his lips pressed against Halsin’s neck, his teeth biting down softly, sucking on his tender flesh. “H-Halsin… so close… I’m…”

“Wait,” Halsin commanded, he felt his breath catch in his throat, almost stopping himself from acting on his deepest desires. Astarion could feel the pressure building inside of him, his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. “Stand up. Let me taste you.”

It took everything in Astarion to push himself away from Halsin and stand up onto his jellied legs. Halsin leaned forward to the edge of the couch and looked up at Astarion, nearly drooling at the view of his lover touching himself. His mouth fell open hungrily and Astarion stepped closer, sliding his member along the larger man’s tongue.

Astarion caressed Halsin’s cheeks with his thumb. He hadn’t expected Halsin to be so eager and submissive for him. There was a side of Astarion that still respected him as his superior and he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Although I think we’re long past that, Astarion mused. He was intrigued by this dynamic switch and was pleasantly surprised that there was still plenty that he didn't know about Halsin. Astarion had always imagined that he would be the one in between his thighs tasting him, but this was better. He enjoyed the power and control: to look down at Halsin, his boss, with his cock resting on his tongue. He saw only excitement and bliss; like Halsin’s entire being desired to worship him.

Halsin grabbed Astarion’s hands and placed them on either side of his head. He smiled around Astarion’s cock as the younger man grabbed a handfuls of his hair. Halsin wrapped his lips tightly around his lover’s length and bobbed his head from tip to base, gagging as it pressed against the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sweet, salty flavor of Astarion, moaning to himself. One hand pulled at his own leaking member; his other gripped firmly around Astarion’s hip.

“Look at me, Halsin,” Astarion growled through gritted teeth. Halsin’s eyes shot open and he gazed up in awe at Astarion. He had seen how poignant and dynamic the lawyer was in their meetings; the way he convinced and captivated any one who dared to rebuttal him.

But, he had never been on the receiving end of that power. Astarion never demanded anything from him and respected his decisions. Halsin felt his heart leap in his chest at the ferocity in his voice, desperate to please him, to be at his beck and call.

“Good boy,” Astarion said as he thrusted into Halsin’s mouth.

He watched Halsin take his entire length, enjoying every second. He enjoyed every lap of the larger man’s tongue against his cock. Halsin’s hand erratically pumped his own cock below, sending the vibrations of his moans into Astarion’s shaft as he fucked his mouth. Astarion could feel the little puffs of breaths from Halsin’s nose tickling the short hairs at the base. He could barely hold himself back as he admired Halsin’s pretty little mouth wrapped around his shaft. Astarion’s chest heaved as he felt the pressure build as he grew closer to climax.

“Fuck, Halsin… I-I… I’m…” Astarion stammered, out of breath. He leaned forward and shuddered, spilling his load down Halsin’s throat, who eagerly swallowed his thick bands of cum. Astarion could feel Halsin’s throat closing with each burst he released; Halsin’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock, savoring the taste. Astarion’s hand drifted to cup Halsin’s jaw as he slid in and out of his pliant mouth, slowly riding through his orgasm.

Moments later, Halsin made a choking noise, his hand twisting and pulling at his arousal, his eyes rolled back into his head. Halsin’s nails dug into Astarion’s hip. His shoulders shook and his seed spilled all over his hand and on the floor. Halsin huffed and groaned around Astarion’s cock, shivers rolling through him.

Astarion pulled himself out of Halsin’s mouth. Halsin let out a sigh, twitching with aftershocks, and blinking away tears that were forced out of him. He grinned up at Astarion and grabbed the pale, lean man, pulling him into his lap.

He nuzzled his face against Astarion’s and pressed kisses onto his cheeks, chin, and then lips.

“You’re amazing,” Halsin murmured into his lover’s skin, continuing to pepper kisses wherever his mouth could reach. Astarion smiled and let out a small giggle. He placed his hands on Halsin’s chest and stroked the wispy hairs. Halsin’s heart pounded against his fingers, slowing with each breath.

“And you’re sticky,” Astarion replied grimacing, feeling a huff of laughter bubble out of Halsin.

“My office bathroom has a shower, if you’re interested,” Halsin suggested. His thick eyebrows raised.

“An entire shower is hidden in your private bathroom? Really?” Astarion looked at Halsin, a crease forming between his brows.

“Just one of the many perks of being a CEO, I suppose,” Halsin shrugged, patting Astarion’s butt to have him stand up.

“You spend way too many nights in your office, Halsin,” Astarion chastised, “But a shower does sound lovely.”

Before heading back down, both men took a moment to tuck themselves back into their trousers, stretch their aching muscles, and share a knowing laugh about not being as young as they used to be.

_____________

Halsin walked into the bathroom and shimmied out of his trousers, before he glanced at himself in the mirror. He smiled as he admired all of the red markings all over his body where Astarion had pressed, bit, and rubbed. His thin lips looked a little red and raw, and his hair was still slightly sticking up from when Astarion had tightly held on.

Like reins to a mighty steed, Halsin thought to himself, chuckling at the visual. Astarion joined him in the mirror, wrapping his arms around Halsin from behind, and pressed kisses into his muscled back. The taller man smiled and leaned into his touch, taking in a deep breath, rubbing the arms that encircled him.

After several years of pining over his lawyer, he never thought this would be a possibility. He did his best to hide the way his eyes secretly slid down his lean frame whenever Astarion was turned away from him in meetings. He struggled with not sighing dreamily with his head in his hands whenever Astarion would lean over the large table heatedly speaking to whoever they had on speakerphone that day.

He found himself unable to sleep as his mind flipped through the various scenarios of his day. There had been many late evenings where he sat and fantasized what it would be like to feel Astarion’s skin against his. It always ended with his hand sneaking down under the waistline of his pants. A shameful, guilty feeling emerged in his chest at the quickly spiraling, explicit thoughts that made his hand drip with his spend. But this was better than anything he could have imagined because it was real.

Halsin brought up one of Astarion’s hands and pressed his lips into it before turning to the sleek, grey tiled shower. The glass door opened with a slight squeak as he stepped onto the dark pebbled surface and twisted the handle on the wall. Instant hot water poured out of the dual waterfall shower heads attached to the ceiling. As Halsin adjusted the temperature, plumes of steam rose above, and clouded the room in a misty fog. Halsin stepped into the spray and soaked his head, running his fingers over his face, and through his hair. He groaned at the water pressure and cracked his neck on both sides.

Astarion watched Halsin with a feral, but appreciative gaze. Throughout all of the moments they had spent together he had tried to picture what was hiding under Halsin’s button-down shirts, but his mind could not predict the statuesque nature of his rippling body. His gaze followed the water as it descended over his flesh and through the divots of the muscles. He marveled at the thick veins that pushed against the skin of Halsin’s biceps and the way they flexed with every arm gesture. Astarion’s spent cock twitched, making him flinch from sensitivity as it pushed against the fabric of his trousers. He bit at his lip and pushed his pants down his legs, clearing his mind from his sultry thoughts for the time being.

A burst of cold sent goosebumps up his arms as Astarion stepped into the shower in front of Halsin. He looked down at Astarion with a soft smile, adoring the way his white curls flattened against his head as he moved into the water stream. The water dripped from the smaller man’s eyelashes and trailed down his sharp cheekbones. Astarion sighed, slightly spent from their activities, and rolled his shoulders under the spray, adjusting to the heat and pressure of the flow.

Halsin reached over to grab a bottle of shampoo and waggled it at Astarion. Astarion nodded in approval and Halsin shook the bottle, pouring the contents into his hand. The smaller man moved closer to Halsin and rested his head on Halsin’s chest, his arms wrapping entirely around his torso, pulling himself flush against his skin. Halsin worked the shampoo into Astarion’s hair, digging his nails into his scalp.

“Mmm, do you do this with all of your lawyers?” Astarion teased, feeling Halsin's stomach shake with laughter.

“Only the cute ones,” Halsin countered, moving Astarion’s head to scrub his entire scalp. He pressed his thumbs behind his ears and moved them down his neck. Astarion slumped more into Halsin as he worked his fingers, pinching and kneading, on his neck and shoulders pulling out breathy noises of appreciation. Halsin gently turned the smaller man to have the water wash out the suds. He then placed a chaste kiss against his lips and removed Astarion’s arms from his torso to grab the conditioner, repeating the cycle of rubbing it into his curly locks. Halsin gingerly scrunched up the conditioner with expert hands and then rinsed.

Astarion stood there with a smile on his lips as he allowed Halsin to pamper and dote on him. He relished the feeling of Halsin’s rough hands and lips all over his body as he scrubbed soap into his delicate skin. Astarion couldn’t remember the last time someone spent so much time and effort on his comfort and pleasure. Between the desire to be tasted and the attention to detail Halsin showed as he scrubbed every square inch of his body, he felt his heart flutter for the man who had revealed so much of himself that night. He felt vulnerable and safe with Halsin.

He watched as Halsin squatted down and thoroughly soaped all around and in between his legs and up through his cheeks. Astarion let out a bashful giggle as he was moved back into the water and Halsin’s hands traded the place of the washcloth to remove the soap. He shivered with goosebumps rising upon his skin as Halsin stood up and pressed his lips onto his forehead.

Halsin ran his fingers through Astarion’s damp, white curls. His hand rested upon his jaw. Astarion’s eyes closed. He wrapped his fingers around Halsin’s forearm and pressed his lips onto his wrist. His thumb rubbed against the skin and he smiled. It had been a while since he felt so tenderly and affectionately cared for. Halsin pulled away and pressed his forehead into Astarion’s, smiling softly down at him.

“Okay, your turn,” Astarion murmured while leaning over to grab a washcloth.

Halsin stepped away to grab the shampoo bottle. He poured the rose scented liquid into his hand and scrubbed it into his scalp. Astarion poured the body wash onto the fabric. Astarion rubbed the cloth all over, lifting up Halsin’s arms and getting into every nook and cranny of his body, Halsin squirmed slightly. The fabric tickled his skin. Astarion pushed Halsin into the stream of the water and washed off all of the soap and suds from his body. Once Halsin was conditioned, Astarion stepped back into Halsin’s space and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

Halsin ran his hands up and down Astarion’s back, moving to lean against the chilly tiled walls. They held each other close, letting the endless hot water supply pour over them while they kissed deeply, their tongues lazily overlapping and tangling together. Their bodies pressed against each other with no sexual intent, just the desire to touch and explore.

Astarion pulled away first, a simple sweet smile delicately placed on his lips as he nuzzled himself into Halsin’s chest.

“I don’t want to leave here,” Astarion sighed.

“I know, but I have enough wrinkles as is,” Halsin joked, wrapping a hand around Astarion’s neck and pulling him into one last kiss before pushing off the wall and turning off the water supply.

He opened the shower door, steam spilling out of the enclosed area, and grabbed two towels, handing one of them to Astarion. Halsin wrapped the towel around him, folding down the fabric securely against his waist. He then grabbed another towel and bent over, flipping his hair down. Halsin expertly twisted the towel around his head and stood back up, twisting the towel around and balancing it on the top of his head. Astarion couldn’t suppress his laugh at the now-turbaned Halsin. Halsin turned and raised an eyebrow.

“What? I hate when my wet hair drips down my back. It’s the easiest technique to prevent that,” Halsin said earnestly. Astarion smiled and shook his head, wrapping his own towel around his body securely.

“I just wasn’t expecting it. You look beautiful with your hair all done up like that,” Astarion teased, pulling an eye roll out of Halsin as he left the bathroom.

Astarion followed him to his desk at the back of the room and plopped into his office chair with Halsin in front of him. Halsin leaned over the desk, curiously shuffling through some of the files that Astarion placed there. Astarion’s eyes wandered down the damp skin of the man in front of him and bit his lip, getting lost in the pull of Halsin’s muscles under his skin. He swallowed dryly and looked around the office for something to drink. He moved to open the drawer that Halsin was in earlier, trying to find more hard honey cider, but his fingers came across a different glass bottle instead.

“Astarion, don’t–” Halsin cut himself off, his eyes widened as Astarion pulled out a mid-sized, half-used, glass bottle. The viscosity of the clear liquid inside meant there was no question about its nature; Halsin kept lube in his desk. Astarion’s eyes sparkled mischievously at Halsin.

“Oh, what is this?” Astarion gleamed while turning the bottle in his hand.

“I– uh…” Halsin’s cheeks formed a deep red blush, trailing all the way up to his ears. He couldn’t formulate a proper excuse this time. He’s been laid bare and exposed. All of his wildest fantasies and dreams flashing through his head as the main character of his vivid imaginations is sat there behind him. He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat, not daring to make eye contact.

“My, my, Halsin,” Astarion paused, tilting the bottle dramatically to emphasize the amount of room leftover inside the container. “You really do spend too much time here in your office. What could possibly be on your mind that couldn’t wait for you to get home to touch yourself?”

Halsin doesn’t turn to look at Astarion. He kept his eyes focused on the manila folders decorating his desk, shifting awkwardly at the playful interrogation. Astarion could see his blush warming the skin of the older man’s shoulders.

“Was it me, Halsin?” Astarion’s voice is low and alluring, closely eyeing Halsin’s sharp intake of breath, the tense muscles and fidgeting hands. “Oh, that struck a nerve. How many times have you thought about me in this room?”

Astarion bit back a cheeky smile. Still no reply from the larger man. Figuring that it might be better to stay silent than to implicate himself more. Astarion taught him well.

“You know damn well that pleading the fifth doesn’t bode well for a plea of innocence,” Astarion tutted. His hand slid up the outside of Halsin’s thigh, “What did you have me do to you, Halsin? Did I have your pretty cock in my mouth as you sat in this chair? Or did you have me bent over your desk exactly like I have you now?”

Halsin cleared his throat. “Quite the opposite actually.”

Astarion bit his lip and smirked, his eyes darkening at the revelation. He leaned back into the leather chair. “Well, darling, if that’s the case, then I’m not quite sure why you’re still standing,” he paused, a wicked idea crossing his mind. “Get on your knees.”

Halsin’s back straightened at the command, he looked over his shoulder at Astarion who was splayed out, legs spread, looking up at him through heavy eyelids and with one leg already exposed from his falling towel. He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. His cock twitched with delight, pressing up against the fabric wrapped around his waist. Perhaps Astarion is a great lawyer because he can read minds, Halsin thought. He hid his smile and turned slowly to face Astarion, obediently dropping to his knees and placing his hands on the inside of Astarion’s thighs.

Astarion looked down at the larger man in front of him, “Look at you. Sitting there so desperately.”

Astarion brought up a hand to cup Halsin’s blushing cheek. His thumb trailed across his skin and pulled down Halsin’s plump bottom lip, and slid into his mouth. Halsin closed his mouth around Astarion’s thumb, his silky tongue sucking on it softly. Arousal swirled down into Astarion’s groin.

“Such a good listener,” Astarion bit down on his lip in focus and pushed his thumb to the back of Halsin’s throat, pulling out a gag as he forcefully opened his mouth. He relished the feeling of Halsin’s hot breath against his skin. A small smile pulled at the sides of Halsin’s lips. Astarion used his other hand to push off Halsin’s towel turban and ran his fingers through Halsin’s damp waves.

He licked his lips as he gripped all of Halsin’s hair in his hand while Halsin lowered himself in between Astarion’s legs. Halsin slid his fingers under Astarion’s towel and shoved it away revealing Astarion’s hardening arousal, twitching excitedly as Halsin leaned in and licked along underneath his shaft.

Halsin nuzzled his face into the base, his lips pulled at the skin of his balls, letting one fall into his mouth, suckling softly, while his hand gently massaged the other. Astarion’s eyes fell closed, shockwaves of pleasure pulsed through his body and back down to his cock. Drops of pre-cum had already surfaced, and Halsin lapped it up eagerly, wrapping his lips around the head, his tongue circling around and across the leaking slit. He moaned, taking the entire length into his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy, akin to a sommelier savoring the flavor of a wine. His enthusiasm was encouraged by the little whimpers he was pulling from his lover.

The grip on Halsin’s hair tightened as he slowly bobbed his head all the way down Astarion’s shaft, feeling it twitch and grow by the second. Halsin pulled off with wet pop. Before going back down, he wrapped his hand around the base of Astarion’s cock and pulled up until his lips met his hand. Halsin pumped his hand and twisted his wrist. He closed his eyes, kissing his tight fist around Astarion’s swollen cock. Astarion shuddered and gasped, his head falling back into the leather chair while his hips pushed forward into his pliant mouth. He could feel his desire bubbling up inside of him and pulling him closer and closer to completion.

“Halsin– Wait… Stop,” Astarion panted and pulled back his hair. Halsin immediately leaned back. His eyes darted up to Astarion’s face, wide with concern, searching for any sign of apprehension. Astarion let out a shaky breath and looked down at his partner, frowning at his confusion.

“Are you okay? Did I– did I do something wrong?” Halsin licked his lips waiting expectantly. Astarion brought a hand to his cheek. Halsin leaned into the touch and pressed his own hand against it.

“No, you are wonderful. You did such a good job,” Astarion said breathlessly. “I just– I didn’t want to finish in your mouth.”

Halsin sighed a breath of relief and pressed a kiss into Astarion’s palm. He swallowed and eagerly awaited his orders. He peered up at Astarion with wide eyes filled with desire. A small smile graced his plumped, thin lips.

“I have already admitted that I had wanted this for quite some time now,” Halsin said, his hand squeezed Astarion’s muscled thigh. “I’d give anything to have you.”

Astarion leaned forward, lifted up Halsin’s chin with the tips of his fingers, and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips.

“Then you shall,” he brushed their noses together and smirked. “Bend over your desk.”

Halsin’s eyes twinkled with delight as he nodded subserviently, “Yes, sir.”

Halsin pressed his hands into Astarion’s knees to help him stand up, groaning slightly as they popped under the strain. Astarion laughed as he tugged on Halsin’s towel and tossed it to the side. He stepped up to Halsin and placed his hands on Halsin’s hips, spinning him around. He pushed on Halsin’s back until his chest was flush against the mahogany desk. Astarion tapped the inside of Halsin’s ankles with his foot, motioning to spread his legs apart. Halsin obeyed, spreading his legs; he placed his hands on the desk to brace himself, shoving folders onto the floor.

Astarion’s hand landed against Halsin’s ass cheek, hard, pulling out a surprised yelp and leaving a matching reddened print.

“I worked for two hours compiling that information for you,” Astarion scolded.

“Sorry, Astarion,” Halsin said quietly, biting his lip to hold back a laugh.

“Oh you will be.”

Astarion spread Halsin’s cheeks and ran a teasing tongue over his lover’s hole. Halsin tensed up for just a moment, but relaxed as Astarion swirled his tongue around his entrance and lapped against the puckered skin with a heavy tongue. Halsin rested his head on the desk and brought his arms back behind him to hold open his cheeks for Astarion.

Halsin groaned, delighting in the pressure of Astarion’s tongue pushing into the tight ring of his entrance. Astarion, with his free hand, grabbed the bottle and coated his fingers with the lube. He slid his thumb up to circle Halsin’s hole, gently pressing into it. Halsin shifted back greedily.

Another slap was brought down onto Halsin’s ass cheek.

“Don’t rush me. I will go as slow as I please, understand?” Astarion said coolly. Halsin nodded in response. Astarion gently slid one finger in, a knuckle at a time, and Halsin exhaled into it. “Now, be a good boy and put one of your knees up on the desk, darling.”

Halsin released his hold on his asscheek and lifted up his leg, resting it on the cool wooden surface. He wrapped his hand around his thigh to hold it in place. Astarion pressed his hand into the abandoned cheek to spread it open once more. He then slid his finger out and pushed it back in, stretching against Halsin’s inner walls. After he felt the larger man relax, he slid in a second finger, pulling a groan from Halsin. Astarion curled his fingers and rubbed them against Halsin’s prostate.

Halsin moaned and pressed his forehead into the desk. Pre-cum dribbled out from his cock as it rubbed against the desk. His fingernails dug into his ass cheeks as he held himself open for Astarion’s pleasure - and his own. Halsin rocked slowly into Astarion’s fingers; this time Astarion allowed it and watched as Halsin fucked himself. Halsin’s eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth fell open, gasping for air.

“Is this what you wanted, Halsin?” Astarion asked, panting. His cock throbbed with need. The lawyer slid his fingers in and out of Halsin’s muscled ring, and slid a third finger inside. Astarion removed one of his hands and stroked himself while Halsin roiled against his fingers, sliding his pre-cum down his shaft. “Speak to me.”

“Yes,” Halsin replied breathily, “Yes, thank you…”

Astarion removed his fingers and Halsin whimpered in protest, biting his lip. Patiently, he stayed put, the sound of the pump on the lube bottle brought goosebumps across his skin. Astarion spread the lube all over his cock and removed Halsin’s hand from his spreading asscheek. He rubbed his length between Halsin’s crease, pushing aside his cheek, teasing the head of his cock against Halsin’s readied hole.

“Astarion, please,” Halsin begged, his mouth watered in anticipation.

“So impatient,” Astarion tutted. He lined himself up with Halsin’s entrance. Slowly, he pressed it against his tight rim.His eyes fluttered at the delicious pressure enveloping his cock. Halsin gripped the side of his desk with one hand as he stretched around Astarion’s length. He pulled out slightly before pressing himself flush against skin.

Astarion rolled his hips and thrust deep within Halsin. Halsin moved his hand down to wrap his hand around his neglected cock.

“Don’t you dare. You cleared a space for yourself on this desk. You’re going to use it.” Halsin hesitated a moment before exhaling restlessly and moved his hand back to his thigh, pulling his leg up higher. Astarion wrapped his hands around Halsin’s hips and pulled him back into him. Halsin yelped as Astarion’s cock filled him and brushed against his prostate. Small whimpers escaped his lips as he pressed his throbbing shaft onto the polished desk surface, rutting against the wood for friction. Astarion’s nails dug into the larger man’s skin as Halsin clenched tightly around him. Little jolts of pleasure run through his body as Astarion’s balls met his, slapping softly against each other.

Halsin’s mind was spiraling in bliss. He couldn’t remember the last time he was at a loss for words, thoughts, and any other feelings because of a lover. His head lolled. His mouth watered; saliva dripped from his lips as Astarion fucked him. Pressure pooled in his groin. Halsin’s hand gripped tightly on the corner of the desk and it crackled at the force. The only other noises were the sounds of the slapping of their skin and mutual moans.

Astarion stepped to the side and changed his position, pounding Halsin in quick short thrusts. Sweat dripped down his face as he felt himself get closer to release. He could feel how close Halsin was too, with the way he squeezed tighter around him and the high pitched moans that fell out of his slacked jaw.

Halsin was painfully hard. He had been edging on the cusp of an orgasm for too long. The desk barely offered any relief no matter how hard it rubbed himself against it. His prostate sent chills up and down his back every time Astarion thrusted. His mind grew hazy.

A warm hand traveled from his hips down to his thigh and in between his legs. Fingers gently explored until they found purchase on his ball sack. Halsin could have prayed to the gods. Astarion slowly massaged his sac at first, but then his pointer finger and thumb wrapped around his skin and pulled down, squeezing his testicles.

“Gah, fuck!” Halsin practically screamed, as he rocked himself into Astarion’s cock. Astarion felt Halsin’s balls tighten in his grip.

With Astarion’s name upon his lips, Halsin came in large spurts across the desk, shuddering with each pulse.

Astarion released Halsin’s sac and returned his grip to his hips, slamming himself deep into Halsin’s constricting hole, until he was fully engulfed inside of him. He pressed himself flush against his cheeks, fingernails dragging down and into Halsin’s tender flesh, losing himself in Halsin. He clenched his jaw, rolling between tensing and spasming as he climaxed. He gasped for air, not realizing he was holding his breath, and exhaled heavily before pressing his forehead onto Halsin’s back.

“You okay?” Astarion asked softly, his thumbs rubbing against Halsin’s thigh, as he pressed all of his weight into Halsin’s back exhausted.

“Mhmm,” Halsin mumbled deliriously. Astarion huffed out a laugh and pressed his lips against Halsin’s spine.

They stayed like that for a moment, panting heavily, trying to collect themselves. Their hearts pounded against their chests and Astarion softened inside of Halsin.

Once Astarion felt lucid enough to move, he pulled himself out of Halsin, both of them hissing at the stimulation. Halsin dropped his leg with a thud and shakily pushed himself up from the desk. A deep divot decorated his thigh from where it rested against the side of the surface. He blinked a few times as all of the blood came rushing back into his head as he stood upright.

Astarion leaned over and picked up one of their towels from the floor. He gently cleaned Halsin’s spent, sensitive cock, then slid the towel through his cheeks, gathering all of the oily lube. Halsin hummed with appreciation. Astarion quickly cleaned himself up, dragged the towel through the mess on the desk, and tossed it into the corner.

He looked up at Halsin who was gazing down at him so tenderly. A blush deepened upon Astarion’s already flushed skin. “What?”

Halsin leaned back against the desk and pulled Astarion against him, pressing a kiss against the smaller man’s forehead. “I like you.”

“I would hope so,” Astarion laughed softly before turning his head to rest his cheek on Halsin’s chest. Little chest hairs tickled Astarion’s nose. Halsin’s fingers gently traced the ridges and lines on Astarion’s back. Astarion sighed contently and loosely placed his arms around Halsin’s waist. “So… what now?”

Halsin mulled over the options in his head for a moment. “We can, uh… Stay here if you want? I’ve slept on this chaise plenty of nights. There’s pillows and blankets in the closet.”

Astarion tsked at Halsin in disapproval. “When do you go home, Halsin?”

“I’ll go home tomorrow,” Halsin replied, slightly evading the question. Astarion picked up on it, but didn’t want to push into it now.

There was a slight pause before Astarion spoke again. “Won’t someone be here in the morning?”

“No, it’s Friday. No one should be here on Saturday,” Halsin stopped his stroking on Astarion’s back and turned the smaller man’s head to look at him. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Astarion. I am not forcing you to stay, or do… anything else if you’re not interested in anything beyond this.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and pressed a peck against Halsin’s lips. “Don’t be stupid, Halsin. I like you, too. I just don’t want to sleep on a glorified couch.”

Halsin smiled down at him. “It’s really not bad.”

Astarion sighed and took a step back. “Very well. It’s only for one night.”

Halsin pressed a tender hand against Astarion’s cheek and then moved to the closet to grab the bedding. Astarion followed behind and took the blankets and pillows from Halsin’s hands. He walked over to the chaise to ensure his makeshift bed was up to his standards.

Halsin closed the closet door and turned to gather the scattered files on the floor. He curiously flipped open one of the manila folders and read the documents inside.

“Astarion, what were these files for anyway?” Halsin asked while flipping through the paperwork, scanning over the highlighted lines.

Astarion stopped his motions, a half-fluffed pillow in his hands. He cleared his throat, hesitant to bring up the news.

Halsin turned around and looked at the pale man holding a pillow in his arms. Astarion huffed in annoyance and gestured toward the files. “It’s a summons. You’re getting sued by Absolute Inc for pulling out of your contract after the drill blew up. It’s being headed by Thorm, Gortash, and Bhaal.”

Halsin nodded his head and bit his lip in thought. “So, a Monday problem, yes?”

Astarion blinked at him and then laughed, “Yes, a Monday problem indeed.”

Halsin set down the file and padded over to Astarion. He pulled the pillow from his grasp and tossed it onto the chaise before crawling under the blankets and laying back into the soft cushions.

He opened his arms to Astarion who crawled up next to Halsin. His eyes were already feeling heavily with exhaustion from their evening.

They breathed in time with one another. Astarion nuzzled his face into Halsin’s chest and yawned. “I am resigning by the way.”

Halsin’s eyebrows pinch together confused. “What do you mean? I thought I was about to get sued? I need you.”

“I know, and I’ll help you get a replacement. I’ll still be here to support you the whole way through,” Astarion paused, shifting his gaze up at Halsin with a smirk, “but it’s bad practice to sleep with clients, and I’d really like to be able to do this again. If you’re interested.”

Halsin’s heart fluttered in his chest as his hand wrapped around the back of Astarion’s head and pulled him into a kiss before breaking away smiling. “I am.. very interested, Astarion.”

[minkshame]

Tord’s Grudge

How could he have been envious of something as terrible as this? He could not even imagine nor comprehend losing a loved one. It had never happened to him, as Tord did not have loved ones to risk losing. There was Edd’s family, but they were safe and sound. No harm had befallen them, and he hoped it never would. Tord could not relate to the grief, and it made him feel strange.

He had arrived home normally, albeit late and by himself. Nothing seemed amiss at first... Tord stayed after school to do some extra English studies at times, and Edd went home at normal dismissal time. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

Tord had called out to Edd and Lottie, alerting the house to his presence. However, the returned greetings he was accustomed to were missing. He furrowed his brow and placed his bag by the front door. Where could they be…? Out on an errand? Edd never went out with his Mum… he’d usually be playing a video game on the sofa, and would be throwing a controller at Tord’s face by now. The lack of any activity was worrying.

He did hear some voices in the kitchen around the corner. Quiet ones, but clearly people present. Tord was relieved in the slightest. From experience, he did know how to handle himself in an empty home. However, it usually had him… on edge. The Groves house had a better atmosphere overall than his previous residence, even when vacant there were still smiles in the pictures on the walls. Still, being lonely in a silent home brought him back to a place he did not wish to return to.

The norsk stepped into the kitchen doorway. There were indeed people in the room, three of them. One was not who he expected.

Tom had his head on their kitchen table, his arms wrapped around his own body. Edd’s hand was on his shoulder and he was saying something quietly that Tord could not hear. Lottie held his hand comfortingly. Tom wasn’t making any sounds, but Tord could tell he was crying… or upset. He watched as Tom’s shoulders trembled.

The norsk stood in the doorway, unsure what to do or say. He cracked his knuckles uncomfortably and stiffened when Edd turned and noticed him.

The brunet stood, and made his way towards the door, his frown prominent the entire trek. Tord could see the sadness in his eyes despite the hair that blocked them. Edd informed Tord that Tom’s mother wasn’t… wasn’t… he couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

Tord understood what it meant. He nodded. Edd rushed back to Tom’s side quickly, as the blank-eyed boy glanced back. Tord mumbled a sorry as soon as they locked eyes. Seeing Tom so upset, eyes full of tears, felt very wrong. It was more typical of him to be loudly eager, opinionated… or angry.

Tord rubbed his knuckles together as he left the room with his head down.

Tom stayed over that night. He was frowning for all the hours, Tord noticed. Early into the evening, Tom fell asleep in Edd’s bed, facing the wall. It seemed a little inconsiderate to do. Tord wasn’t sure how Edd would feel about this, but the brunet simply laid down next to his friend when he got tired. Edd… the boy who never shared his precious things. Ever.

Tord slept in his own bed. Alone.

Late in the night, when not a soul was awake, Tord awoke to deafening silence and darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he realised he needed to use the toilet. He left the bedroom.

Upon his return, he caught a glimpse of Edd and Tom tangled together in Edd’s small bed. They looked like they… belonged there, together. They seemed to be… comforting each other. Their limbs laid over each other in confusing knots. Tord stood in the centre of the room and stared at their still forms for a minute that stretched onto eternity. He swallowed a wad in his throat and remembered the tear stains on Tom’s face from earlier that night. The long hugs Edd had given him.

Tord’s chest ached like someone grabbed his ribcage and squeezed it. His face burned. His brows furrowed painfully. He clenched his jaw. Why…? Why would this…?

Anger?

Sadness?

… Jealousy?

What was this?

Tord’s hands shook at his sides. He had the urge to rip the blankets off the two of them and throw them to the floor.

Tom was simultaneously the most lucky and unlucky person he knew. He’d lost something so important… but he was blessed to have something to lose.

Why did Tord not have someone to mourn in this way? Why could he not have… a mother that he would be sad about… if she passed on? Where was a relative he could feel anything for? Why did Tom get to have that? Why did Tom get to have… Edd’s… friendship, too? He didn’t need it. He had gotten to grow up with loving parents already.

It did not seem all that fair.

It was not fair.

He hated Tom. He hated Tom for having a dead mother. He hated Tom for laying there with Edd. Edd was Tord’s closest friend. Edd was…

He felt frightened. Of himself, of his memories, of his thoughts. What he might lose. His head swirled until he was dizzy.

Tord clenched his fists tightly and left the bedroom again. He sat on the sofa for the rest of the night, quietly staring at the wall until his fear turned numb and distant, and his eyes closed.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Death's Chosen

Part 2

Halsin x OC

Summary: Aspen regains her bearings and explores what her temporary home has to offer.

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: Mentions of death, references to bg3 plot,

A/N: Hope this lives up to expectations! Much much more to come (I have so many plans hehehe…)

Part 1 Masterlist Part 3(soon)

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I knew it had been a while. I awoke still a bit drowsy, but comfortable. When I came to, I realized I had no idea where I was. I was also vaguely aware that I had no clothes on, and the furs against my skin were so soft and warm.

My hair was no longer up, but it was disgusting. I felt disgusting.

“You’re awake!” A surprised feminine voice said from my left. I whipped my head around, seeing a dark skinned human girl who had long braided hair with feathers woven in. She hurried over to my side, hovering her hands over my torso. A golden light emitted from her palms, and her eyes fluttered shut. “You seem to have healed nicely.”

I scooted away from her, sitting up, and she pulled her hands away rapidly. “Where am I?” I questioned. As I shifted, the blanket fell, revealing my bare torso. I glanced down and quickly pulled the furs back up, my heart pounding with unease.

My gaze darted around my surroundings, sensing a familiar form of magic that eased my mind a bit. Wherever we were, it was plenty spacious, seemingly walled off in sections by cloth drapes that hung open. If I looked up, there were lanterns hung, spiraling up and up and up until I could no longer see what lay beyond.

“You’re in the Golden Grove. Wait here, I shall fetch Master Halsin.” She scurried off before I could respond or further inquire about my surroundings.

I sat in silence for only a few moments before the girl returned. She was saying something, but my attention was stolen by perhaps the largest man I’d ever seen behind her. He looked to be fully elven despite his size and stature. Largely muscular with shoulder length hair the color of tree bark. It was half pulled back in a bun, revealing four large gashes across the left side of his forehead. The right side had an intricate red tattoo that was reminiscent of vines.

His lips curved into a smile when he approached me. “I’m glad to see you’re faring better.” His hazel eyes were kind as they took me in. He held out a wadded up tunic. “Your armor didn’t make it, I’m afraid. This should do, for the time being.”

I blinked up at him, taking the garment from his large hand. I didn’t miss his gaze falling to my chest when the furs slipped a bit. I carefully pulled the tunic over my head, feeling it dwarf me, before pulling the furs out from under it until they covered my thighs.

“I’ll take over from here, Kynd. Go tend to the others for now.” The large elf named Halsin said to the dark skinned girl. Kynd, I mentally noted. Halsin pulled up a hand-crafted wooden stool, taking a seat beside me. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met. What is one of our kind doing so far from their circle?” His voice was deep and very calming. He wasn’t accusatory, just concerned.

A flash of color and a menacing voice. Echoing screams surrounded me. Their bodies rotted from the outside in, becoming nothing but bones and dust in the wind. My breathing quickened.

“They’re dead,” I whispered, staring off into the distance. “Every single one of them.” My voice cracked, and hot tears slipped down my cheeks.

“Oak Father preserve you, child…” His voice was sullen. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you wish to, I will listen.”

I hastily wiped my tears away, shaking my head and taking deep breaths to compose myself. “How did I get here?” I asked.

“You must’ve been nearby,” he said. “You somehow stumbled to us half-conscious and bleeding out. I brought you here and healed you.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I looked over at him. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Think nothing of it. A friend to nature is a friend to me,” he said simply. “Something tells me you would do the same. You may call me Halsin.”

“Aspen,” I told him, nodding in thanks. “How long was I out?” I asked carefully.

“Several days,” he told me. “Your body and mind has been through a lot, it is no wonder it would take time to recover. You are welcome to remain here as long as you like, we have pods to spare, if you’re fine with a little climbing.”

“Pods?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled, and it made something inside me ease. I hadn’t realized I’d smiled back until the muscles in my face relaxed back to neutral. “How are you feeling otherwise?” Halsin asked.

“Restless,” I said honestly. “For all the rest, I’m not used to sitting still.”

“You have free run of the Grove and otherwise. No one here should bother you. I’ll have Kynd take you to your pod when it’s suitable,” he told me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to tend to.”

“Thank you, Halsin,” I said earnestly. I didn’t think any number of thanks would ever be enough to repay him for what he’d done for me.

Sensing my feelings on the matter, he just nodded before standing. “I hope this is a fine enough sanctuary after all you’ve suffered,” he said in departing.

I hoped it would be too.

I watched Halsin’s muscled back as he walked further into… wherever we were. After a moment, I laced up my tunic, making sure I was completely decent before slipping off the soft cot.

I put my curiosity of this place aside in search of fresh air. As I went, I noted several other ‘rooms’. Namely, a dining room, study, library, and twisting stairs leading to more above.

I had managed to wander my way to a wall. It looked like interwoven branches or roots of some kind. As I approached, they parted, and I had to squint against the sunlight that erupted in my vision. Once my vision adjusted, I saw that the roots had formed an archway to let me pass. We’d never had anything so intricate in the glade, being secluded in the natural cave.

Taking an experimental step forward, finding no resistance and only lush greenery covering the ground. The sun was golden, casting a heavenly hue over the world, but it wasn’t uncomfortably bright. The ground was soft beneath my bare feet.

I took a few steps forward before turning to look at the place I’d left. By Silvanus… I saw a massive tree of interwoven trunks. What could be a circle of trees came and grew together, twisting into a much, much larger great oak. I watched the roots come back together to seal the archway as though it was never there. I had to crane my neck to see everything, but I was so glad I did.

I saw between the leaves and branches were, what could only be described as, pods. Teardrop shaped structures hung from branches, ladders and bridges connecting them to a complex network of vines running along the trunk itself. This must’ve been what Halsin was talking about, and he was right, I did see.

There was no other way to describe it than to see it, and it was beautiful in that way that only nature could truly achieve. I took a step back in awe, something warm and solid intercepting me at my calves.

I glanced down, seeing a fluffy white dog peering up at me, grinning. “Amicus animales,” I muttered the spell under my breath, squatting down to the dog’s level. He had a leather collar, a copper pendant hanging from it that had ‘Scratch’ roughly engraved into it. I smiled at him. “Hello Scratch.”

His tail wagged. “You know my name! Hello, mistress. Master Halsin asked me to keep an eye on you.”

I raised a hand, scratching him between the ears and down the side of his neck. “Well then I’m glad to have you along,” I told him, standing and brushing the dirt off my knees. “What are you doing out in a place like this?” I asked him as we walked along the edge of the tree, my hand trailing against the bark.

“When my old Mistress went missing, Master Halsin took me in,” he told me. “He is very kind to me and everyone, I think.”

“Your old Mistress?” I asked. “What happened to her?”

“She was very, very sick,” he said solemnly. “I tried to find her, but Halsin said not to, so I instead came here with him. I’d like to think she is alright, but truthfully, I do not know.”

My heart sank for him. I remained silent after that, not sure how to comfort him when I hadn’t figured out how to comfort myself after my losses.

It wasn’t long before my contemplative silence once again turned to one of awe. We had rounded the tree, coming to what I discovered to be the actual front side. A large creek ran through the grove, winding and twisting all the way to a massive wall of trees that was far too barren and tall to climb. I saw stepping stones littered across it, all the way to the end where a tangle of roots like the ones in the tree were taking up part of the wall. An entrance to the grove itself, I assumed.

I looked around, seeing other druids mingling and laughing. Deer and rabbits grazed around us everywhere I looked. I glanced over, seeing a fully grown owlbear jumping around over the creek, looking happy as can be. Never in my days had I seen an owlbear able to coexist with people so fully. I wondered what the story behind that was.

Scratch must’ve seen my studying the creature, because he spoke up. “That’s Puck. My Mistress took him in when he was a cub.”

I wondered if he could sense us talking about him as he bounded over, jumping over Scratch and circling back around.

“Hello!” The owlbear’s light voice said to me. “You smell very delicious, but I will not bite you!” He held his head up high, looking very proud.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I reached a cautious hand up, and Puck nuzzled his head into it, chirping under the contact. I giggled and scratched between his ears. He headbutted my side playfully when I pulled away.

I watched as he nuzzled Scratch before bounding off again. “You two seem very close,” I commented off-handedly to the dog at my side.

“Mistress saved both of us and gave us new friends. We wouldn’t be here without her.”

“I hope I get to meet her someday,” I said with a sad smile. These animals had endured just as much, if not more than most people. I was glad to be able to know them like this. I was even more glad that Halsin had saved me just as he had taken them in.

I felt eyes on me, and I looked around but spotted no one looking in my direction. I shrugged it off, fighting back a yawn as I laid down in the grass. I clasped my hands under my head, letting my skin soak up the warmth of the sun even with the tunic covering most of me. Scratch laid down beside me, resting his head on my thigh as his tail curled over the top of my head.

——————————

I hadn’t realized I had dozed off until I was being nudged gently by a warm calloused hand. I stirred slightly as a large arm slid beneath my shoulders and knees, lifting me off the ground. I was settled against someone’s chest, and I could vaguely make out Halsin’s features in the moonlight.

I sighed, settling against him as he began walking. “My apologies.” I felt his voice rumble in his chest. “I didn’t wish to wake you, but it seems I was not successful.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my eyes slipping closed.

“Your pod has been prepared,” he said quietly. “Kynd will take you to it tomorrow. For now, rest.”

We had reached my cot much faster than I anticipated, and I was being lowered onto the silk gently. A quilt was drawn over me, and I curled up under it.

Halsin hesitated, as though he wanted to say something more. I fought sleep while he stood there, and finally he did. “You are safe here, Aspen. Rest.”

I wished that notion was as comforting as he meant it to be. I was asleep before he had taken a step to walk away.

————————————————————————————————

A/N: Likes, comments, and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! Have a wonderful night, loves! <3

[spoopydooblr]

Demons | Chapter 3

Pairing: Billy Butcher (The Boys) x Supe!OC

Summary: Over a year ago, Lilith Murphy escaped the experiments and torture of the Sage Grove Center. After laying low and stripping at Super Girlz, she’s found by Billy and The Boys.

Warnings: smut (girl on girl!!!!!!), cursing, descriptions of sex work, descriptions of sexual assault, drugging

AN: this is a heavy one yall!! please read with caution. also can we talk about queer lili????? lfg!!!!! we need more girl on girl sex in the boys!!!

Taglist: @seeingstarks @a-rogue-tiddy-bot @scraftsku35 @anundyingfidelity

Red stilettos clicked against pristine, white marble floor. They were always Lili's favorite pair to have on. Sure, they were obnoxious and made her over six feet tall, but hey, they were gorgeous. She remembered buying them with her first paycheck from Super Girlz. Sluttier heels brought in better tips.

They were the same pair she wore when Billy handed her that twenty the night before.

Speaking of the man, he was probably looking for her. They were leaving for Sage Grove the next morning and he wanted to strategize. Lili snuck out during dinner, stopping at her old place to get a dress and the heels. Sure, she felt bad, but she had work to do.

Lili walked through the high-end hotel, bypassing the front desk and hopping into an elevator. Pressing the button for the top floor, she looked at herself in the mirrored walls, making sure her makeup and hair were looking okay.

The elevator verged upwards, approaching the top. Lili took a deep breath, reapplying her lipstick.

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

Lili stood naked at the edge of the king size hotel bed, in between a pair of long legs. Her tongue spilled out of her mouth, curling around.

She smiled evilly as she cracked her knuckles.

Lili's tongue dove into the woman's cunt.

"Oh, fuck!" A smooth, pleasure-filled moan.

Lili shifted, tongue swirling and lapping at the woman's breasts. Lili's hand clamped down, holding her legs. Her other hand went lower, finding the woman's clit and rubbing it slowly.  Her fingers pawed at her entrance, running through her folds.

She kissed her. It was Victoria Neuman.

Lili hummed, pulling away and wrapping her tongue around Victoria's nipple.

"Lil..."

"Shh..." she kissed her again.

Lili broke away, she didn't love kissing the clients much. Victoria was different, though.

She moved her position, once again in between Victoria's legs.

She moaned, her fingers pulling at Lili's red hair as the long, snake-like tongue entered her again. Lili's hands pushed down on Victoria's thighs, rubbing circles into her skin.

"Ah!" Victoria yelled as Lili's tongue pushed against her clit.

——————-

"I can't believe you're going to be the vice president."

Victoria and Lili laid on the bed, passing Lili's new cotton candy vape back and forth.

"Im not yet. Don't jinx me."

Lili smiled. "Well," she turned to Victoria, their noses almost touching.  "You got my vote."

She passed her the vape.  

"When did you start vaping?" Victoria asked.

Lili shrugged.  "Healthier, I guess."

Victoria laughed, leaning in to kiss her.  Lili froze, turning her head.  "Uh, sorry, um, I really gotta get going."

"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry."

Lili rolled off the bed, her bare ass exposed as she leaned down to put her dress back on.  As she turned back to Victoria, the older woman was holding a wad of cash. 

"Thanks."  She flipped through the money, counting the bills.  "I'll see you soon?"

Victoria nodded, smiling curtly.  Lili cringed.  Leaving was always the worst.  Especially with Vicky.  

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

Lili crept back into The Boys' apartment building, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Sure, she might wake up Kimiko, but the woman didn't even speak.

She almost made it past the kitchen before she heard a gruff voice.  

"Where the bleedin fuck have you been?"

Lili stuttered, "Uh..."

Butcher turned the light on, almost blinding her.  His eyes widened at her outfit. 

"You been dancin at that club again?"

"No."

"Don't fucking lie to me."

"I wasn't."

"Then where the fuck you goin dressed like that?"

Lili frowned.  Why was he treating her like this.  "Why?"  She smirked, "you jealous?"

"I thought ya'd been kidnapped."  Lili noticed how he didn't deny his jealousy.  His eyes even softened a little bit.  

"Well I'm good, okay?"

"Don't go fucking awol like that again, ya hear?"

Lili gulped.  She had clients to take care of.  How was she going to manage to sneak out again?  "I can do whatever I want, Butcher."

Billy took a step towards her, backing Lili into the side of the counter.  "I'm sure ya can, love."  He smelled like bourbon.  "But you're one 'a my Boys now, and what I say, goes."

"I'm not one of you." She looked up at him, still wedged between his body and the counter. 

Billy laughed.  "What the fuck are ya then?"

"Uh, a freelancer, I guess? I don't know."

Billy couldn't help his smile.  "Well, freelancer, stop fuckin disappearing on us." His eyes flickered to her chest.  He sniffed the air. "Why the fuck ya smell like pussy?"

Lili sniffed back, "Why the fuck do you smell like Temp V?"

Butcher's eyes narrowed. 

"Isn't that stuff what's killing you?"

He grunted, letting her push past him.  Before she could get far, he spoke up, "You use that tongue for money, love?"  He was upset, obviously, but he needed to know.

Lili looked down.  "It's really none of your business."

"You ain't gotta do that shit no more."  He said, hand scratching his beard.  "Not now."

Lili pursed her lips, looking up at him.  "It's survival, Billy."

"Lili, I told you.  You're one 'a us."

"Sure, because you all clearly love Supes."  She knew deep down Billy would always hate who she was.  What she was.  

"I brought you here, didn't I?"

Lili turned to leave.  

"You'd still be dancin at that club every night if it weren't for me.  Buncha cunts grabbin at ya."

She tilted her head to the side, unsure of how to respond.  "And that's a good thing?"  Lili raised her eyebrows at him.  "I'd rather be at Super Girlz than go back to Sage Grove tomorrow."

Billy pressed his lips together.  She had a point. "We need that Inhibitor."

"I know."  She said.  "I didn't say I wasn't going."

Billy smiled.  He knew she was tougher than she looked.

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

The next morning Lili was squished in between Kimiko and Annie in the back of The Boys' van.  

"You sure you're good with this?"  Annie nudged her.

Lili nodded, trying to avoid thinking about what they were about to do.  She was also avoiding Billy now that he knew about her clients.

"Do you guys know the plan?"  Hughie reached his head around from the seat in front of them.  "Butcher hasn't really told me anything yet..."

Annie shook her head, looking to Lili.  

"No clue."  She shrugged. 

The van lurched to a stop.

"Alright you cunts, here's the plan."  Butcher looked back at The Boys from the driver's seat.  "After our last little...visit to Sage Grove, they've changed their security.  You lot are going to create a distraction while me 'n Lili sneak in through the back."

The fuck did he mean?

"Um, I don't remember agreeing to that."  Lili mumbled.

"You didn't."  He said, opening his door and getting out.  

Annie gave Lili a concerned look.  "He does this all the time.  I'm sorry."

"It's fine."  

It was definitely not fine.  Lili was nervous to talk to Butcher after the night before.  He seemed to be quite adamant that she stop working, which bothered her.  It's not like she loved her job or anything, but it was the only way she knew how to live.  

"Lili."  Butcher's deep voice broke her thoughts. "Let's go."  He motioned to a path through the woods.  It was the same way she had escaped over a year ago.

"Whatever you say, boss."  She rolled her eyes at Annie and Hughie who smiled.

Billy bit back a retort, knowing it would only make things worse. 

Lili followed him to the path, there was no going back now.

He barked orders one more time at the rest of The Boys, hands firmly on his semi-automatic.  

"You don't need that."  Lili said to him as they walked through the forest.  She motioned to his rifle.  

"Like hell I don't.  I ain't like you."

"I can smell the V from a mile away, Billy."

He stopped, turning to face her.  "I think you better mind your fuckin business."

Lili stared at him, brow furrowed.  "I think you should do the same."

"This about last night?  You been avoiding me like a fucking plague."

"You can't tell anyone about what I do."

Billy sighed.  "I ain't tell no one."

"Okay, I just...just please don't.  People...people like to judge me."

Billy nodded.  "I ain't want you doin that anymore."

Lili rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.  "I know, Billy, I get it.  It's beneath me, blah blah blah, I'm better than this, I know."

"It's not that..."  He muttered.  "Just don't want ya getting hurt is all."

He definitely wanted to say something else, but they both left it at that.  Billy Butcher caring about her was definitely not on Lili's bingo card.

The two finally reached the back of the institution.  There was a small, locked metal door with multiple locks in front of them.

"Ya wanna do the honors?"  Butcher asked her.

Lili nodded, taking a deep breath.  She touched the handle lightly, reading the energy in the building.  "There's a pretty clear path to the lab..."

"Go on then."  He encouraged her.  

Lili's hand clamped down on the handle as she created in explosion in her mind.  Sparks erupted in her palm and the door burst off the hinges.  

"Good girl."  Butcher praised, pushing past her.

Lili was a bit stunned at the comment but tried to shake it off.  She followed him inside, for once staying back behind him for safety.  Sage Grove put her out of her element.  If only Billy knew what really went on there.

"Lab's to the right."  She whispered, looking over Billy's shoulder.

He nodded, rifle in hand, as they crept to the lab.  The door was locked, as expected.

"How are we going to do this?  I can kick it open, but it's gonna be loud--"

Billy ignored her, taking a breath.  He focused on the door, shooting lasers out of his eyes and melting it to the ground.

"Oh my God."  Lili stared at him.  "You're like..."

He grunted in response, letting her walk through the now-gaping hole in the door.

Inside were some small lab stations and a few big freezers.  "Over here."  Lili said, gesturing to one of the freezers.

Billy peered inside, where there were at least a hundred test tubes filled with black liquid.  

"That's it?"  He asked.

Lili nodded, suddenly unable to speak.  The black sludge brought back memories she wasn't sure she could handle.  The drug used to run her life, but now it was just liquid in a tube.  It couldn't hurt her now.

But they were about to release Inhibitor to the world.  

"I feel like this is a bad idea."  Lili mumbled, stumbling away from the freezer.  "We-we can't just steal this."

"You want Homelander dead or not?"

"I do, I just..."  She stared at the vials of black.  "I know what this shit does to you."

"Exactly."  Butcher opened the fridge, grabbing a few tubes.  

"Wait..."  Lili grabbed his arm.  The touch of their skin sent shivers down her back.

Suddenly, they were in a different room in the institution.  Billy began to protest, confused as to where they were, but he stopped.  On the floor, wearing a hospital gown, was Lili.  She was younger and sickly-looking.  Her skin was peeling off in layers, revealing the red, itchy meat underneath.  Her eyes were closed, but streaks of black liquid stained her cheeks and around her mouth.  She had clearly been throwing up, but the girl laid still now.

Lili looked at her old self, still clutching Billy's wrist.  

"Where are w--"

The door to the cell flung open, revealing a few doctors and The Deep.  The Deep walked in and knelt next to Lili's body.  

"Is she alive?"  He picked up one of her limp hands, holding it up and then dropping it to the ground. 

"Yes.  The Inhibitor should be out of her system in eight hours."  One of the doctors replied.  "You can have her until then."

The Deep nodded, touching Lili's cheek.  "Thanks."

Billy looked at Lili, begging her to let him go.  He didn't need to see what was about to happen.

Lili kept her eyes forward, watching her old self.  The Deep sunk down to the floor, laying next to her body.  

"Let me take care of you, baby."  He whispered.  Lili's form croaked from pain.  

The Deep pushed her hospital gown up, his fingers brushing against her thighs.  Lili remembered everything. 

"They have to do this to you, Lil.  It's necessary."  The Deep started to undress. 

"Lili."  Butcher said from beside her.  "Let's go."

She kept her eyes on The Deep as he took his suit off.  

"Lili!"

She spun to Billy, eyes red and teary.  "This is what Inhibitor does, Butcher."

[lunatic-harness]

if you liked myhouse.wad and want to get your DOOM horror on check these out

lilith.pk3 (requires a very specific version of zdoom)

Grove

Unloved

The Thing You Can’t Defeat - (https://www.doomworld.com/forum/topic/130478-the-thing-you-can%E2%80%99t-defeat-ultimate-doom-wad-for-gzdoom-8-maps/) because tumblr won’t let me stick it into the text for some reason

[lunarbard]

After a 6 hour download due to bad internet, I finally got around to playing the Baldur's Gate 3 epilogue. And it feels like yet another piece of a game that fails to be more than the sum of its parts.

I'm a fan of Larian studios - DOS2 is one of my favorite games - and I appreciate how much work went into Baldur's Gate 3. I also ran seven playthroughs in that first release month; I've probably run through that game more than 90% of its players today, let alone given the timeframe. But BG3 had already been the biggest push for me to move away from D&D 5e in my tabletop games just from the Early Access, and I went into the release knowing I would find the combat rather insufferable (especially after a month or so of playing Wildermyth, which probably has my favorite simple tactical combat in a crpg I've played). And the application of skills in general. But honestly the cinematics / story delivery (and promise of consequences later) in EA had me wanting to see the rest of the game.

And the game does have its moments: Karlach's monologue & Dark Urge refusing their blood are fantastic. But those are all that really stood out in their entirety,

I stopped playing the game because the seventh playthrough was my tactician run for the last achievement at the time, and ironically it was the first time I actually got Dark Urge's special good ending (my four other Dark Urge runs I went to Avernus with Karlach). And the game gives this little somber note of reflection for Dark Urge, and it's an incredible moment that gives more closure for the whole game than the default endings and epilogue combined.

Then it's rather strangled the moment you reflect on the rest of the game, because the game doesn't allow itself much space to breathe. And it's all the tadpoles' fault.

If there's one thing missing from BG3 (which is being generous), it's adventure. The tadpoles have a lot of game design uses, but perhaps their largest impact is how they allow the game to yoink you on a single track towards its conclusion. So exploration is limited, and typically just rewards you with the equivalent of a pile of necrotic needles & a blighted shambling mound digesting you (all with a 30 perception check required to not be surprised, mind you). Or you accidentally skip half an act because you wandered into a tomb.

But I digress on why Act 2 is a wad of melting glue desperately trying to bridge the gap between the two actual halves of the game.

DOS2 and BG3 are both built out of wide area maps set in linear chains. There seems to be this philosophy that single, completely interconnected maps are just better than traveling between smaller areas via a world map even when those maps make the story make less sense, like the goblin camp being a ~10 minute walk from the grove down a straight road.

I want you to imagine what Act 1` might look like if the map was instead properly split up into distinct locations across an overworld map:

Your arrival in the grove is timed with the goblins attacking Waukeen's Rest; if you look through the telescope, you see their banners marching in that direction.

That gives you a marker on your world map to travel to, which takes a few hours overland and you find the place burning after the raid and can help the people there.

Here you could get two leads: the Zhentarim sending you down the road to the toll post to check on their shipment (with the flind & gnolls being a set encounter when trying to reach there) and tracks that lead to the blighted village.

In the blighted village you encounter some goblins, get the location of the goblin camp (likely from a dead or alive goblin), and head to that marker to find the warband returned from the inn and celebrating. (or maybe you find information on the Selunites here, and follow the indications of a Selunite temple in hopes of finding a healer, only to find it ruined with goblins in it).

Area divisions - whether short loading zones in old Monster Hunter or a dotted line for travel across a world map - give a ton of space to state or imply time & distance without needing to accurately render them. Pathfinder: Kingmaker did a great job of also throwing in some party banter for companions when you rested, which, with a good budget, could do wonders for providing those little companion interactions a good chunk of bg3 players appear to crave.

Those are some of the breathing moments the game needed. Little bits of connection, reflection, and companionship. I want more small moments for Dark Urge where you get to have them think on their affliction - really think! not "kick cat: Yes / no / normal dialogue." I want more urges that are actually urges and you have to resist, or actively save someone, and build this narrative anywhere other than your head because the game treats the Dark Urge as "here's a really evil option. You're good for not picking it."

Which sums up 95% of the game's "moral" choices too.

The one thing BG3 does better than any crpg I've played is its graphics, cinematics, and letting you make an explicitly trans character.

And I think that's why the epilogue felt so flat to me. You walk around and talk to people, then watch everyone give a toast. For all I've come to dread the thought of playing this game, I would pay a good amount to get an epilogue that's like DOS2, but with cinematics instead of character art.

[unsoundnovel]

MINTHARA, SPEECH PATTERNS pre and post tadpole, DROW LANGUAGE.

minthara knows more than a few languages, but the ones nearest and dearest to heart are those of her people—the specialized drow sign language all of her ppl use to be able to hear any sign of enemies n keep from alerting other drow or predators to their location. common drow—which she speaks almost disdainfully, with short, clipped sentences as orders to those beneath het. and finally, high drow—which is reserved only for nobles such as herself n high priestesses.

high drow is often referred to as the language of spiders and snakes. vowels are hushed, rich, deep tones, consonants are hot huffs, with only qs, js and ts really cutting through ughs ands uus and eas, and ees, and haas, and is spoken in slow, lanuguid, carefully chosen iambic pantameter. their wizards are called “snake chanters” by their slaves. drow of all classes often use sounds like cat chattering from the back of their throat/the front of their teeth to signal basically the sfx of a spider’s leg crawl in a cartoon. if you hear the clicking, shit is abt to go down, n its a sign from somebody to watch out or run.

drow typically learn modern “common” customs from those they enslave or pillage from, as well as their network of surface spies. modern surface spues typically become teachers in their elder years. often, drow are out of date on what the surface is like by hundreds of years, and bc of this, there speech is always more formal.

due to the vowel/breath heavy, tongue muscle memory of drow, common comes almost too easily, except that drow often go hard on those consonants to express dominance and further mastery to make up for the lacj of it in their own language.

high drow is literally a secret spoken between “sisters.” common, for all people, is something most drow despise. and yet, there is a beauty to the way it deepens their voices, makes them louder and more brash, the way words can be ordered so quickly and punctuated so properly.

common poetry is a fun party trick. like being able to sing opera for a stadium. often noble girls amuse themselves with dirty common limericks no human could remember even their grandparents ever saying, like high schoolers amusing themselves with teaching each other curse words in other languages. the louder they get, as if playing the “ penis” yelling game—the more likely they are to be scolded and punished. but even drow have fun!

minthara often enchanted lovers with her low, deep voice and poetry. she finds a fascination with the double meaning and entendree of common. she loves their metaphors, it reminds her more of their sign language and dance than high drow does, which has so many rules and layers so ancient, it can sometimes be restricting, especially when spoken near an elder, and sometimes the double meanings ate so hidden behind age that the meaning of sayings from the dawn of time seem meaningless to minthara, even devout as she claimed to be,

(minthara’s mother would hit her when she caught her using common with her schoolyard crushes to impress them. it made double down deeper in private.)

in general, minthara speaks common with confidence—but without the absolute’s chaotic influence freeing her from self-influcted rules and restrictions, minthara keeps herself to her confident, low drawl, making sure not to burden her words with too much emotion, and yet speak with all the intention and practice her drow upbringing AND secret queer parlor trick language requires.

it really is an alto ballad coming from her

it’s funny because i think the absolute unleashes and frees her, in a way. she would still have killed the grove, even if it wad cruel, if she wanted to. it would have been pointless at the time, but she can see reasons why one would do it, (they are weak, they are unable to fend for themselves, they are burdens, etc.)

but she WANTS structure and order and intention, and more than that, the structure, order, and intention that she herself provides for herself beyond gods and politics beneath her. i think common appeals to that, bc she would like to Rule All, not just drow.

also, im thinking about drow masculinity vs femininity and if they could even have butchness except as a performance of female knighthood/strength/semi-subverience to noble women in the guise of a service role of masculine strength. like it would be different than butchness, but also it would kind of be butchness…. but also minthara is a paladin… so a knight… and she “instructs you”….. idk, she has a very kind of butch bisexual energy to her, lets not lie, n whats better than this, a drow woman who doesnt want to habe kuss, who hates her mother and female god, but still wants to dom and 69 you. nothing….

[libidomechanica]

I love us, play last to him and carefull temper angry

Or were in a room is this word?     Grew awhile, like before. Such as pea and peace for a kiss?     And aye to Nanie, O. And run, betokening slow, and entice     this very misery angels come what it is beat     again young and not

openly bedded wide, and afflicted     more. Her waist, all the arrow from the moon he by the     shining fyre: not fail’d, and harder growes glide, he ’ll be     by another rare: attempt to know by the first to prayer!     Although sword in his

art made you held in a cast-iron     pot. Quick! Or troublous fit, and though veils. To wash her,     waterway against they or marke: and feeling your force, lightly     to have I, on the plain of sea, war with past the man of     His tributaries; I

know what gods, and so the worke is     bright cannot beauty in the horne. So holy chime that hauing     shuts, a certaintiest Muse, the start eternity and a     gloue, captiued are you, i’d have; choose, for easie things and trump     shal thunder let it

lykewize. Says he, hold up your thee     ere Cuckow end, then shall get my fortune? Till night sky, a     delayed and love in the lessened in marble are the smelt     o’ the trees. On ilka grove ask, who died for admonitions.     I love us, play

last to him and carefull temper     angry! Back return him starue my blisse and left me in     the hour, when through strings, rinds are move to close away? They—     pitiful season, and Time is pride can call Thy plan, hast the     singing a tomb! And hauing

sheets. One day and baskets his pigtail     traine, find some uncertainties now my lip. Constant eyes,     pale unreturn, somewhat of this remove. The message set     on Vertues riches a’s my passive life, thou and I must     be thy forth at a stage

of the rushing lookers eyes, ere     thou my buddhist my naked as this verse, the hill, our convert;     or else forest haunt, and stoutly wil embrace! Kindled     by chance. Lies. Which, from elsewhere but he that wad beguile: tell     of clouds to switch #1 with wear,

o looke she sayes I neuer brings     add a curses thus,—not very bark ’gainst the Star-Queen’s circle-     glory has my obedience. Sail, and take deliciousness.     But enjoy such sweet cordialls passions of buried     dust. I saw Osirian

Egypt kneeling. When my wound about     to depriue remoue the slang. My Nanie, O When around that warpings     past its mind, by thing and daungers nurst; and her too, and     the rivers seem in up to simple any others false     praises dear. A fatigue

and are divided at a genius,     and sayd she, the fair. Line, to changed, ye hide, through kingdom     of my weak eies be inclynd: and dismay, shall make and our     regions warre now left our meaning low! High as then know, that     cheared, or more on the

human dressings his ivy tent,     onward bale of the grave, and spines. Knees than all is not so     fayre when you do, too, our face is immense, I feel loving     hate. It makes her, must your meets high with, Let us cry Too     late hath a smile I woo

the Amorous windows but not     the portal, and Inarculum here remayne. Men to the     gaine. This is my staff. The glowworm o’er them, but her slowly     drop his bone resigned his mortal eyes all the worlds rare, grow     where the toils a song’s

befalling me threw such heuenly are     nothing I doe both sing; sings his the arias of our     love us were made the show!—Now, which he had gives scope for     fear’d sublime beyond the way your eye with despair! They straining     loues pray. Of Netherby

gate, and went and lord of sensuall     desolate and makes my loue embrace my arms to folly     as the tombs of buried grief its Fires. I wished his shafts     should fondly laid, that, the rose, those sylvan aisles. Passing     didst conversation what

he soothe my madness! Som heuenly     feature, or die. Here each sting’s negotiable and free from     his mintage hotly pierce: whether of Earth sending, dear time     my love and deceive hell; not by Extortion, nor leave heart,     which the crew of bliss. To

pipe now ’gainst that, if your mind this     waxed tame, which vulgar mass called heau’nly plac’d to seeke to absorb     her tail, refashion me I would his priesthood moan theyr     shadowy Hours; while the Prior, turn him that wad make blush     so everywhere, I have

ebbs like what is busie archers close     against my heart, in deep discontinuall smile me dear with     thee! And al her faulty features wonder bibbers of your     immortall prosper ) I shuffle sideways willing meal?     And sick of Hazeldean.

[petrichor-han]

starlight grove; billy the kid

PAIRING | billy x fem!rich!reader

CAST | william h. bonney (billy the kid), jesse evans (mentioned)

WC | 6.9k

GENRE | smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, starcrossed lovers, forbidden love, opposites attract

WARNINGS | explicit language, explicit sexual content, smoking (cigars), reader is rich and very feminine/girly, reader has a mom & dad, usage of pet names for reader (pet, sweetheart, etc.), historical and TV show sequence inaccuracies (not based on specific TV show events nor irl specific historical events)

SYNOPSIS | everyone knows he's no good for you, including the two of you. that's why it starts off emotionless, pure passion and lust. but other feelings began to creep in, just as quickly as sunlight trickles through the bare branches of your apple grove come winter.

A/N | first billy the kid fanfic :) so please don’t be too harsh lol i’m sensitive. it's also a bit choppy since i decided i wanted to have a similar setup and mc/reader for a future billy the kid fanfic so i had to move things around so it's not too similar to my other draft :/ i’m also in love with tom blyth so it had to be written. 🙏 please reblog and/or leave some kind words if you enjoyed this fic!! there will definitely be more to come for billy the kid & i also definitely want to start writing for coriolanus snow too <3 please consider reblogging + leaving some kind words if you enjoyed!!

request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!

MASTERLIST | BILLY THE KID MASTERLIST

Billy spits a wad of blood, metallic and tangy in his mouth, into the dirt at his boots. His tongue prods the ragged flesh at his cheek, where his teeth tore into the inside of his cheek when Jesse accidentally elbowed him in the face whilst they were wrangling some cattle earlier.

Billy learned two things that day—one, every single rich rancher that moved into town was a fucking jerk, and two, he really needed to stay out of the way when Jesse was distracted.

Regardless, he was pissed. If not because of the way his left side of his face was aching, then because he hardly got paid for a long day of work. Sure, he didn’t expect anything grand, but he thought he’d get more than enough to get by for the next few days, and he could kick back and relax before the summer boom, which people had been whispering about, saying that tons more rich ranchers were moving in, and therefore slowly moving the poor out. Naturally, Billy thought that he’d just move on if it came to that—he wasn’t too attached to town, and he didn’t consider it home. It was just the place he was occupying at the moment, because it was working for him. If it became too expensive or too much of an annoyance, he’d pack up his few belongings and head further west.

He thumbs through the few wrinkled bills he’d been handed at the end of the work day, and he scoffs, leaning back in his chair to take a long drag from his cigar. The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky now, and the air is thick and warm. Dust is clouding the sky as people and horses walk by, making him cough weakly as he waves at the air in front of him. Then, through the midst of reddish brown dirt, he sees what he thinks might be an angel on Earth. 

A woman, but not just any woman—the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Physically, she’s exactly his type and more, with graceful facial features and an elegant way of carrying herself, despite the less than ideal conditions of town in the late summer afternoon. He can’t help but get to his feet to take a second look, thinking that in his sleepy, anger-addled mind he might have hallucinated her. But no, there she is, clearer than ever now that he can see above the clouds of dirt rising from the ground. She’s holding onto the arm of an older gentleman, presumably her father, as the pair walks across the road, approaching the bank. The older man, who isn’t really old at all, but coming off as more mature and refined instead, takes out a small golden timepiece and scoffs at it, making the beautiful angel clinging to his arm jump slightly from his outburst. They enter the bank, and Billy snaps out of his stupor, realizing that he’d been staring at her the entire time. He’s quite glad that she didn’t seem to notice, and he stubs out his cigar in the dusty ashtray before standing up and leaving the front of the saloon, thinking about what he might have for dinner. 

On the other side of the road, you enter the bank, clinging to your father’s arm nervously. You hadn’t wanted to move to some small, underdeveloped town in the middle of nowhere—you had to complete your summer studies at a respectable, well-known school, you complained to your father. Nonsense, your father had replied, besides, we’ll be home by the end of summer. 

You left behind all of your friends, your acceptance to the best summer program in the area, and your beautiful house—it was big and white, and the inside smelled like fresh wood and it was spacious. Here, you have no friends, you must attend the local college, where very few women go, and you know you’ll be berated by misogynistic men, and your house… well, perhaps your house here is the one grace. It too, is large, and the wood on the outside is also painted white. There are plenty of windows, framed with pretty ridged shutters, and the inside is even more spacious than your old house. Your bedroom here is lovely too, taking up the entire floor of the attic, which is clean and bright in the day and cool and quiet in the night. 

You aren’t spoiled, but you’re quite used to having very nice things, since your father is so successful. Especially now that he’s got much more land for his cattle, he keeps boasting at dinner about how much richer your family will get. He says that this summer house is just the beginning. And you also aren’t stupid, so you keep your mouth shut, even when your father says stuff you don’t agree with. You know there’s only so many ways to make your way as a woman until you marry, so you let your father think that you agree with every little thing he says. 

And that’s what you’re doing now, as you both walk into the bank to discuss taking money out for your college. You press your lips into a thin, tight line to avoid saying something you’ll regret as your father jabbers on about how stupid it is for women to attend college anyways. You put on a fake smile and nod, acting like you don’t really care whether you continue your education or not. Sitting quietly beside him as he talks to the banker, you get bored, and fast. The room you’re sitting in is possibly the most boring room you’ve ever seen—it’s completely flat and brown on all sides, and the decor doesn’t boast anything exciting either. The walls are bare, and the banker scrawls down numbers as your father rattles off information you’re quite sure is irrelevant in this situation—he just wants to show off. You turn away, and look at the one interesting thing you can see from where you’re sitting—you look through a window, that sees out the front of the building. A man—a cowboy—is standing at the saloon on the other side of the dirt road, right outside the doors where a few wooden chairs sit, scattered about. He seemed to be staring back at you for a moment, and your heart skips a beat—he’s quite handsome, after all—but then he turns away, and walks off. You’re disappointed, as your one form of entertainment has walked off, and now your father is arguing with the banker—for what reason, you’re not exactly sure. Sighing, you sink down in your chair, sulking, until your father barks at you to sit up like a real lady and stop making a fool of yourself in public. 

The next morning, your father announces he’s going into town again. “That bastard of a banker counted my money wrong,” he seethes, slamming his fist onto the table, spilling his own coffee. Your mother looks up, her eyes wide and afraid, before wiping up the spilled coffee with a rag, and refilling his mug. “Everyone in this town is an uneducated, unrefined mongrel,” he insists again, when no one speaks up to agree with him. “That’s the problem with new towns like these. No one is civilized, the way we are.” 

“You’re right, hun,” your mother offers quickly, and once he gets his acknowledgement, he resumes his meal. You and your mother exchange knowing looks, looking away quickly before he realizes that there’s a silent form of communication that he isn’t involved in. 

“When are you leaving, Pa?” you ask, looking up. Your mother swats you on the arm gently, reminding you that you shouldn’t be addressing your father in such a way, especially during a meal. You retract your statement, swallowing hard as your father narrows his eyes at you. 

“That isn’t any of your concern, pet,” your father says, as he lights a cigar, a large cloud of smoke exiting his mouth as he exhales, hiding his face from your view. “Little girls don’t belong in town. You stay here with your mother and the servants and mind the home, as you will for your husband when you’re a wife and mother.” 

Your jaw clenches at your father’s words. You know he’s right—that’s the norm for women, after all. But it’s not right, and you wish it weren’t so. All you wanted was to go to town, hopefully to catch a glimpse of that handsome cowboy again—you weren’t disobedient, or bad. You wouldn’t even mind staying home most of the time, since spending time with your father almost always guaranteed some sort of tantrum from him, and you found it embarrassing to be with him in public when that occurred. But instead of arguing or calling him out on his sexist behavior, you force your lips into a smile and look into his hard eyes at the cigar smoke clears. “Yes, sir,” you say softly, sighing as you look down at your empty plate. 

The sound of your father hitching up the horses makes your ears perk up, and you can’t help but peek out the large window in front of the kitchen that oversees the front of your home. Soon enough, two of your father’s best Morgans trot by, pulling a carriage. All you can see of your father is the faint shadow of his wide brimmed hat as the horses pass by the front of the house, slowly disappearing from your view as they trot down the pathway, and in the direction opposite of your house. Sighing, you watch the maids scrubbing the breakfast dishes in a large wash basin, the smell of fresh lye soap penetrating your senses.

Finding nothing else to do on a dreadfully blissful spring day when you’re stuck inside, you help with the household chores as your father instructed, feeling a pool of anger simmering in your stomach at your quiet obedience. At least next week your summer classes at the local college would begin, and even though your father would definitely have some choice words for you about that, at least it’s an opportunity to get out of the house and away from his nagging. 

A gentle, warm breeze blows gently as you hang up the damp laundry. You had assured the maids on laundry duty that you didn’t mind hanging up all of the washed garments—it was something to do, after all—and they left to help with other chores. Humming to yourself, you dig into the small box of clothespins as you hold one of your nightgowns up to the clothesline, but when you look back up to clip it to the string, you’re instead staring into a pair of very bright, very piercing, very familiar blue eyes. You let out a yelp and stumble backwards, surprised, and step into the basket of damp laundry, spilling your own clothes and linens all over yourself. You can feel your face heating up as you’re hidden underneath one of your linens, hearing the handsome owner of the blue eyes chuckling at your clumsiness. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice kind but slightly gruff. You gingerly peel back the linen that’s draped over your head, one hundred percent sure that your cheeks are flushed to the point where he can obviously see it. Avoiding eye contact, you nod and start scooping the linens and clothes back into the basket. He starts helping you, much to your discomfort, but you don’t say anything until his hand falters slightly. You look over and see that he’s staring directly at a pair of your undergarments. If your cheeks weren’t flushed before, they are now. You quickly snatch it out of his sight, shoving them deep into the basket. 

“Sorry.” He stands up, chuckling softly. Then he extends a hand to you as you mirror his actions, standing up and looking up into his bright eyes. “I’m Billy.” The handsome cowboy. 

You tell him your name, shaking his hand with a firm grip. He can’t help but grin at your serious expression—you were so pretty, and that studious look made him want to say something to make you smile. “I saw you in town yesterday,” you say quickly, before you can stop yourself. “Across from the bank.” 

“That’s right, I was at the saloon. And you were with… your father, I presume?” 

“Yeah. He went to town again today, but he wouldn’t let me come this time.” You smile weakly, wondering why the hell you were telling him all of those details. 

“Oh?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that, sweetheart?” 

You feel a shiver go down your spine at his deepening tone, the way his bright eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you. You swallow around the lump in your throat, trying not to stumble over your words. How was it possible for someone to have such an impact on you? You’ve never come across anyone so attractive in your entire life. “M-my father says it’s no place for a girl like me…” you say, feeling your face heat up again at how childish, how naive you sound. A man like Billy wouldn’t want a girl like you. 

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Billy steps closer to you, his calloused hand gently caressing your face before he tilts your chin up so that you’re looking him in the eye. “Town’s full of dangerous men that’d just love to mess with a pretty girl like you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity, and you pull away, biting your tongue. He chuckles softly. “I’m just messing with you, sweetheart. But really, your Pa ain’t wrong. There’s plenty of bad men in town that wouldn’t have a second thought about taking you away.” 

“Are you one of them?” you challenge, crossing your arms. He raises his eyebrows, surprised at your defiance, but enjoying the feeling you’re giving him—the feeling of a challenge. 

“Do you want me to be?” he asks, mirroring your actions and crossing his arms. He grins at you, and your heart flutters. You can’t help it, not when such a beautiful man is teasing you. 

You bite back a giggle, looking down at the ground so he can’t see the goofy smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. “Well… I wouldn’t say I want you to take me away…” you say, finding your voice as you play with a loose thread on the skirt of your dress. 

Billy chuckles again, and leans in closer. You can feel your heart pounding, making your entire body erupt in uncontrollable shivers. “How about I just take you out then?” he suggests, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Only if you stop teasing me like that,” you say, scowling and pushing him away as you try not to blush in front of him again. You don’t want him to know just how easily he’s getting to you. 

“Can’t handle it?” he asks, his tone light and playful. 

“Oh, I can handle it just fine. Your words don’t affect me, cowboy,” you scoff, trying to come off as more nonchalant. 

Billy grins at your response, enjoying the banter. He reaches down and plucks a wildflower from the tall grass, and gently places it behind your ear, alongside your soft hair. “I’ll see you tonight then, doll. I’ll come pick you up right here.” 

You feel your stomach twisting slightly at the thought—there’s no way your father would allow you to go out with someone from town. He thinks they’re all uncivilized bastards. “I can’t leave without permission from my parents,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie—you do need to inform them where you’re going and when you’ll be back. 

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why do you need to ask ‘em to go on a date?” 

“It’s complicated…” you say, not wanting to get into the specifics of your father’s big plans for your eventual marriage to some rich older man. Or, if you’re lucky, someone more age appropriate—perhaps a rich man’s son, one that will inherit his father’s fortune eventually. 

Billy grunts, rubbing his scruffy chin with his hand. “Alright then, we’ll just have to have our date here then. That okay with you? I’ll make it real special,” he says, looking down at you, determinedly. You can’t help but feel a little flattered that he’d go this far just to be on a date with you. 

“I think the question is if it’s alright with you. My parents aren’t exactly… lenient, as you can probably tell,” you say, shrugging. “Do you still want to go out with me then?” 

Billy laughs aloud, his blue eyes piercing into yours. “‘Course I do, sweetheart. You caught my eye, and I’m the kind of man that gets what he wants. If that means we can’t go out on the town together, then so be it.” 

You giggle softly at his smooth talking, and he reaches over to adjust the flower he put behind your ear. As he gently caresses the side of your face, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just to remember me by,” you say, almost shyly—you’re not sure what overcame you, to do something so bold. 

But Billy just chuckles and brushes a lock of hair out of your face, looking down at you. “Don’t tease me like that, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be able to forget you, even if I tried,” he says, leaning in close, but not enough for your lips to touch. He pulls away, smirking at your blush. “I’ll be back for you,” he promises, pressing a rough kiss to the back of your hand. “As soon as the sun starts to set, I’ll be here, waiting for you.” 

“Promise?” you ask doubtfully, looking up at him. Sure, he seems to be charming, but you’re no fool to how men can act. 

“Promise,” he says softly, looking into your eyes. The bright, piercing blue suddenly seems much calmer, much gentler. “You can trust me.” 

With that, Billy heads off. You didn’t even see his horse, tied up to the post that the end of your clothesline is attached to, but he unties her and saddles up, slinging himself over her back with ease. She’s different from your father’s horses; a cream color instead of the rich chestnut brown of the Morgans. You don’t ask what kind of horse she is, but you certainly admire her as he adjusts the reins before tugging on them gently. He gives you a smirk before his horse sets off at a trot, and he disappears into the fields of tall grass, presumably heading back into town, or perhaps back home. Where that is for him, you’re unsure. 

Now that the excitement of a handsome stranger has died down, you find the laundry mundane and pointless. Grumbling to yourself, you hurry to try and finish the chore, knowing you can’t break your promise to the maids. That would be unfair, and it would only earn them punishment from your father—which isn’t something you want them to go through. You rather like the maids after all, and often converse with them while you help with the chores, though they always insist that you don’t need to help. 

Finally, you pin the last linen to the clothesline, and thank goodness too—the line is completely full. You must remind your mother to either stop buying new garments, or to install some more clotheslines. Otherwise, laundry day will only be more of a drag. You pick up your skirt, your ankles and legs sweltering underneath the heavy fabric, and hurry into the house. 

The air inside isn’t much cooler, but it’s at least shade and coverage from the direct sun. Your dress is definitely too thick for the season, but to be quite fair it was much chillier in the morning, and cloudy too. You try to discreetly fan yourself under your dress, flapping your skirt as you sit down in the parlor, but your mother gives you a disapproving look over her knitting as you do so. You drop your skirts, resisting the urge to throw your head back and groan from the disgusting feeling of the damp material clinging to your sweaty skin. “Ma,” you begin, looking at her hopefully, “isn’t there anything else to do around the house?” 

“If you’re so bored, why don’t you recite your Bible verses, or work on your patchwork quilt?” she replies, unamused with your attempts to convince her to leave the house. “You have plenty of things to do before you begin your classes next week.” 

You furrow your brow and wrinkle your nose, stopping only when your mother gives you another stern look. “Fine… I’ll work on my quilt,” you mutter, getting up to rifle through the sewing box, which sits in the corner next to the fireplace. You pick up your half finished quilt, the bright colors you naively chose in the winter looking garish and tacky. You regret your choices, but your mother won’t let you pick new colors—it’s much too expensive to buy more fabric, when you have perfectly good pieces to use, she scolded you, making you sulk and give up on the project as a whole for a few months. 

It’s not difficult, but it’s mindless and boring. Your fingers start to cramp and twitch, disobeying your mind as you try to finish sewing a bright red patch onto the quilt. Giving up and taking a break to massage your fingers, your eyes slowly move over to look at the grandfather clock that stands in the center of the wall, quietly ticking and biding time. Back home, you knew that the sun usually set well past supper time, and it was only around supper time now. As you stare out the window, you can see the late afternoon sun slowly beginning to sink lower into the horizon, leaving a bright burst of color in its path. Not yet. 

You return to your patchwork quilt. Place, hold, sew, knot, snip. Start over. 

Time has never passed by so slowly, and you’ve never wanted anything to come quicker. The first interesting thing that’s happened since you moved here for the summer, and you have to wait all day for it to even begin. 

Finally, finally, after you finish sewing on a pale green square, you look up, and the sun is beginning to breach the horizon, orangey-red rays spreading across the sky like a live flame. The great big grandfather clock begins to chime, striking seven o’clock, and you pretend to not notice, not wanting to arouse your mother’s suspicions. A few minutes later, once your heartbeat has slowed once again, you sigh and put down your patchwork quilt. 

“I think I might go wash up and go to bed early,” you tell your mother, faking a yawn behind your hand. She hardly looks up at you, waving you off as she watches the maids mop the floors with narrowed eyes. 

Hurrying up the stairs to your attic bedroom, you make sure your dress isn’t too wrinkled, and you pinch your cheeks to make yourself look a little more flushed, though it doesn’t do much except for make your skin sting a little. Smoothing back your hair the best you can, you sigh, exhilarated, and stuff a few dresses and pillows underneath your covers to make it look like you’re cozy in bed. Then, holding your breath as you hear someone walk past your room, you open your window slowly, inch by inch, until it’s wide enough for you to slip out without your wide skirts catching on anything. 

You hold your breath as you climb out onto the roof and slowly shut the window again, making sure it’s still unlocked so that you have a way back into the house once you come back. The drop looks much higher from up here than it does from the ground, and you can feel a pit of uneasiness and fear in your stomach as you cling to the wall of your house and look down at the grassy terrain below. “Damn it,” you mutter to yourself, second-guessing if this is really worth it after all. After a moment of contemplating, you bite your lower lip and start inching down the roof, making sure to grab onto the shingles with your hands, tightly. Once again, inch by inch, you make your way to the edge of the roof, and then peer down. There’s another part of the roof down there that’s much lower, and from there you could easily jump to the ground without injuring yourself. 

It takes a few moments to convince yourself you can do it, but you dangle off the side of the roof for a moment before dropping onto the lower portion, your boots landing with a solid thud on the shingles, and you sincerely hope that your mother didn’t hear it. Just in case, you scramble off the lower part of the roof, easily lowering yourself onto the grass, and dart away to the other side of the house. You see the clotheslines come into view, now plucked clean of the clothes and linens by the maids, and you stand by one of the poles that holds up the main line, taking a deep breath and exhaling. 

“Hey.” 

You jump, again, almost knocking the intruder in the chin. The intruder—whom you now realize as Billy—chuckles and gently grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers rubbing over your soft skin, caressing it. “Sorry if I scared you,” he says, sheepishly. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, just like the one he gave you before when he bid you goodbye. 

“Just a little,” you admit, smiling softly down at him as his slightly chapped lips press to the back of your hand. “But I’ll forgive you… if you give me a reason to.” 

“Now what exactly are you implying there, miss?” Billy asks, raising his eyebrows at you. 

Boldly, you pull him close, your hands gently grabbing the front of his vest. Your lips brush against his as you whisper, “Something like this.” 

Groaning lowly, Billy wraps his arms around you, his hands gripping your waist as he presses his lips firmly to yours, pulling your body against his. In the waning sunlight he looks beautiful, and you can’t help but pull away from the kiss every now and then to catch your breath and stare at him. His bright blue eyes contrast with the warm light of the sunset, which also makes his tanned skin absolutely glow. His handsome, prominent features cast long shadows on his face, and you watch the corner of his lip twitch upwards, almost into a smile as he reaches up to cup your face gently. His thumb brushes against your cheek, and you shudder softly, the feeling making you crave more of his touch. You reach up to place your hand over his, your eyes sparkling in the orangey-pink sunlight, and capture your lips with his again, hungrily, desperately. 

“You’re driving me insane, sweetheart,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer against his toned, muscular body. You can feel heat radiating off of him through his clothes and he presses himself against you. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna end up taking you right here in this field, where anyone could see us.” 

You can’t help the shiver that goes through your body at his dirty words, your eyes widening. You almost can’t believe that he said it aloud, what you were secretly hoping for this entire time. It makes you blush, makes you feel dirty—whorish, even. 

He can feel the shudder that goes through your entire body, and he can’t help but smirk at your eagerness, which is expressed through every form of language except speaking. He lightly runs his hands up and down the sides of your body, feeling your curves. “Do you like the sound of that, sweetheart?” he asks—almost purrs, making you moan softly in response, nodding. He chuckles, and pulls you behind a grove of lush apple trees, which are all adorned with small, hard, unripe fruit. Still, the thick, green summer foliage provides cover for the two of you, and as soon as he gets you behind the cover of the trees he starts undoing the back of your dress, making your heart race. Were you really prepared for this? It had been a while since you’d last been with a man—secretly, of course. 

He must have been able to sense your hesitation, or something, because he leans down to whisper, “We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t wanna, doll.” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, his tongue gently darting out to lick the sensitive skin. You shiver, squirming under his touch, and shake your head. 

“No. I want to… I promise I do,” you whisper desperately. You can’t let this chance get away from you—even though you were debating whether or not you were really prepared, and earlier you wondered whether it was worth it or not to come—now you realize you’ve come too far to give up now. And besides… you do really want it. You think Billy is the one of most handsome men you've ever seen, and you’re not so secretly thrilled that he seems to find you attractive too. You’re not afraid of your sexuality when you’re with a partner, though you’re very well aware of the stigma around discussing it. 

Billy looks up at you, studying your expression—presumably trying to see if you’re really being truthful, or if you’re lying to him. He seems to find that you’re being honest, however, as he leans forward and his lips crash onto yours again. He gently picks you up and then lays you down on the soft grass, which is still warm from the sun that was shining down on it all day. He continues to unbutton your dress, desperately wanting to see all of you, but you swat his hand away, knowing you don’t have that much time. He pouts, but instead moves his hands down to start pushing up your skirts, grinning as he simultaneously reaches up with one of his hands to pull down your undergarments as well. You gather your skirts up with shaking hands, exposing yourself to him as you part your thighs. It’s a little odd when you start to think about it—you’re about to hook up with a random man you don’t really know, in the middle of your family’s apple orchard. But as soon as Billy’s hot, wet tongue licks over your folds, your mind goes blank. The only thing you can think of is the way his mouth feels on your pussy. 

He rips your undergarments off completely, making you gasp, and then he pushes your thighs apart further, burying his face into your cunt and licking you like he’s been starved of pussy for years. You can’t help but moan, trying to hold back just in case anyone is walking by, but it’s difficult as Billy wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, hard, making you throw your head back and gasp, your thighs threatening to clamp around his head to hold him in place. But his strong hands hold your shaking legs apart as he continues to devour you, without any interruptions. 

Soon—much sooner than usual—you feel your orgasm slowly approaching, a certain warmth pooling in your lower stomach as Billy flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with his bright eyes, burning with lust and desire. 

“B-Billy…” you whine, bucking your hips and tangling your fingers in his dark curls to pull his face closer to your cunt, “g-gonna…” 

Billy groans, wrapping his lips tightly around your clit to suck harder on your sensitive nub. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he encourages, returning his mouth to your soaking pussy, his tongue licking over your weeping slit. 

And you do—obedient, as per usual. You come hard, gasping and tightening your grip on his hair, making him moan as he continues to gently lick and kiss your sensitive clit, making your thighs twitch with overstimulation. You release your grasp on his hair as you slowly ride out your orgasm, your breathing slowing and returning to normal. You’re surprised—that was by far the fastest any man has made you orgasm, let alone, orgasm at all. He has manners, you think, as he finally rises from between your legs, licking his lips and tasting your juices, making you feel a wave of slight embarrassment at his shamelessness. He grins at your facial expression, and gently pulls you into a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, musky and tangy, and you moan, sucking softly on his tongue and making his grip on your hips tighten as he groans into the sloppy kiss. 

He reaches down to unbuckle his belt, the clinking sound turning your attention to it. You watch as his large hands quickly and nimbly undo his own belt, and then his jeans, pushing them down slightly. He hesitates as he hooks his fingers underneath his undergarments, looking up at you. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks, looking into your eyes with a gentle glance, trying to assure you that it’s okay if you don’t. 

But you nod eagerly, parting your legs further for him as you lay back in the grass, not even caring any more if it stains your dress. You don’t even care that the sun has nearly completely set now, and the two of you are bathed in reddish orange light as the sunset nears its climax. You too feel that way, as Billy pushes down his undergarments and his cock springs out, your eyes widening as you see it for the first time. It’s certainly impressive, girthy and long, but not unrealistically large. He reaches down to stroke himself a few times before slicking his tip over your folds, shuddering as he feels your wetness coating the head of his cock. 

“Ready for me, sweetheart?” he asks breathlessly, looking down at you with an expression that’s a mixture of lust, desire, and concern. 

Trying to rid Billy of his concerns, you reach up to cup his face in your hands, and you pull him into a kiss, gently biting his lower lip and making him groan aloud again, his hips bucking forward and nudging his tip inside of your tight warmth. The two of you gasp simultaneously at the feeling of your pussy enveloping the first inch or so of his length, and he starts to slowly push further, inch by inch, trying not to hurt you. 

But of course, it was inevitable in this situation. Though Billy had gone down on you, he hadn’t really stretched you out, and you were paying the price for it now. Whimpering, with sweat dripping down your back from the warmth of the sunset and the heat of Billy against you, you try to bear the pain. 

He kisses you deeply, nipping on your lower lip to try and distract you from the pain, and it does, just a little. “Fuck…” you whine softly, gritting your teeth as he eases into you, finally bottoming out with a soft groan. 

“Language, doll,” he reminds you teasingly, though his voice is strained too—an obvious sign of how deeply you’re affecting him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he starts to slowly thrust into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly to hold you in place. You can feel just how deep he is inside, how his thick cock penetrates not only your tight cunt, but seemingly your mind and soul. Every sense, every inch of your being is clouded with lust and the image of him. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, smell, and touch. 

Perhaps he’s in the same situation as you—the same state of obsession and all-consuming lust, as he moans your name over and over again, paired with obscenities and other dirty words that you wouldn’t dare to repeat. He pulls away slightly to look at you, his rough and calloused hand reaching up to gently smooth your hair back out of your face. He grins. 

“So pretty, baby,” he groans, sweat dripping from the tip of his handsome nose, his exertion obvious as his thrusts grow sloppier. 

You can feel your wetness coating your inner thighs and dripping down your crevices; every time he thrusts into you, you can feel the stickiness of your combined fluids suctioning his body to yours. It should be disgusting—but you love it—the feeling of his passion mixed with yours. 

His breathing grows more ragged, and your whines and moans grow higher in pitch as he feels his orgasm coming on—he thrusts into you harder, your squeals falling on deaf ears as he chases his own release, using you like a toy to get what he wants. 

Yet, he reaches down, nudging your legs a little further apart as his thumb starts to rub your clit in small, rough circles, making you gasp and clench around his length. He groans loudly, his movements speeding up. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he demands, his voice firm and gruff. And you can’t help but obey—the combined stimulation of his calloused thumb on your swollen clit and the feeling of his cock fucking into your slick pussy mercilessly pushing you over the edge. You gasp, before moaning loudly, forgetting that this is meant to be a secret rendezvous, as you cum all over his thick cock, your walls clenching tightly around his length. He throws his head back and groans, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him too much, and he pulls out just as thick white ropes spurt from his tip, landing all over your stomach and pussy. 

The two of you lay there in quiet reflection for a moment, the only thing interrupting the silence being the heavy breathing that emanates from both of you. The aftermath of your tryst. 

Slowly, Billy pulls away, chuckling a little to diffuse the awkwardness as his bare skin sticks to yours. He uses his handkerchief to clean you up, pocketing it again as he grins at you. “This was fun,” he says, as the two of you get dressed. “We should do it again sometime.” 

You can’t help the way your heart flutters hopefully at Billy’s words, at the verbal confirmation that he wants to see you again. “Maybe,” you say shyly, as you stand up, checking to see if there’s any grass stains on your dress after all. Billy walks over to you and hugs you from behind, his hands falling to your hips. He squeezes gently, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Just maybe? What does a man have to do to get your attention for good?” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Prove himself to me,” you say, cheekily, as you pull away. Your eyes twinkle in the moonlight, and it makes Billy’s heart skip a beat. He feels like a foolish teenager again, in the midst of puppy love. 

“As? A man, a husband, a provider?” he asks cockily, “I can be all of those, for you.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach up to pinch his cheek playfully. “Sure. All of the above,” you say, grinning. “I’m not the type to settle for a man that isn’t loyal or good to me.” 

“I’m sure you aren’t, sweetheart,” Billy snorts, thinking about your massive house and your rich father—clearly, you weren’t brought up in such a way, to settle for any sort of mediocre treatment. Still, his heart softens when he looks down at you and your beautiful face. He couldn’t blame you for any of the issues with the rich ranchers forcing out poorer townsfolk—it really wasn’t your fault. But it was just a reminder of the different worlds that you two lived in. “And… I’m not the type of man to betray your trust either. You can trust me.” 

“That’s why I’m waiting until you prove it to me. Words only go so far, and even though I want to trust you…” you say, pulling away teasingly. It makes Billy chuckle—he liked when girls teased him, kept him on his toes. 

“Alright, alright… I won’t push you too far. Let’s take it at your pace,” he says, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at you. 

Billy, always the gentleman, walks you back home. When the massive white house comes into view once again, he whistles—he’s never lived in a house like that. It makes you squirm with embarrassment, almost makes you ashamed that you live in such luxury and most people don’t. Being aware of your privilege was uncomfortable, but he didn’t know that. 

He gives you a kiss good night, his touch lingering for just a moment before he pulls away and disappears into the night just as suddenly as he came. With flushed cheeks and your heart thumping in your chest, you climb back up the side of your house. It’s much easier than your initial escape, now that your nerves have calmed. 

There’s no question about it—you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon. 

© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved  

[m39]

Decade of DOOMstruction(2000s): 1 map WADs (source port)

If you thought that there weren’t enough WADs to talk about previously, don’t worry. We have 4 times more of these today. And, oh boy… We are off with a bang.

2000 – CHORD 3

As in, the difficult type of a bang, the conclusion to the Chord series has a high chance to kick your ass. Unfortunately, by the end of 2000s standards, it’s closer to the cheap difficulty, with traps surrounding you with enemies, BEING surrounded by enemies at the start (at least there are no hitscanners at the start), the environment usually being against you, starving amounts of ammo until the end of the map, and the less we talk about the bullshit galore of the ending, the better.

I think I might have been more masochistic in the past since I found this map easier with my first review; probably because I found cheap stuff more acceptable and now I got more rusty.

Nonetheless, it’s still a fine map. I still recommend giving it a shot, even though the cheapness of this map might sour your experience with it. Don’t try it on UV when playing blind.

2001 – VRACK 2

This map, on the other hand, felt easier than the last time I played it. Sure, there are over 550 enemies on HMP, but on the other hand, you get a lot of rockets to use, and it doesn’t feel as cheap as the previous map; I’m not even mentioning how some of the secrets trivialize some of the harder moments of the map.

It still looks kind of impressive for a space station from a 2001 WAD. And it was less confusing than during my review of it (probably because I had a secrets guide I made for myself).

It might be an over-two decades-old fossil of a map, but it’s still a good map worth checking out.

2002 – RUMA

While Espi is still fondly remembered by the Doom community even to this day, and even after being dead for 15 years, I’m not really that fond of the decisions he made with his WADs.

Starting with this map, for instance, where the hardest thing to survive is not the small barrage of barons and revenants near the end, but the new sound effects. The pea shooter now sounding like an actual pea shooter, the profanation that is the super slapgun, and the horribly bitcrushed explosion from another game I don’t recognize which, makes me want to play this map muted.

Other than that, it’s still a good map in other parts of it. Sure, the army of zombiemen going down the hallway near the starting area is a bit much, but it’s not a hard map, and by the early 2000s, it looks neat. I think I might appreciate this map slightly more than the last time I played it since it doesn’t try to make unwanted gimmicks over the cost of fun.

If you think you can survive the new sound effects, go ahead and play this map. I don’t think it will disappoint you.

2003 – SPACE STATION OMEGA

It’s kind of hilarious how the author of this map would made the foundation for the Doom+2 port released this year.

As for this map, though? It’s basically one of those tech demos to see what ZDoom can do. My opinion on it doesn’t really change. Annoying? Sure. But it’s less annoying than some of the other tech demos of its time. You can give it a pass.

2004 – GROVE

Trees that block your every move. Darker than a baboon’s arsehole. Irritatingly cryptic in some places. Forces you to do things in a certain way to not rip your remaining hairs out. These are some of the elements that plague this map. A map that should fall apart, and yet it fits in many places.

It’s a marvel for eyes and ears, the atmosphere might be one of its kind, and despite ammo-starving you, you will still have enough ammo to kill all enemies if you know where to look.

This is a map only a madman with the mind of B.P.R.D. could understand 100%. Even though I still like it to some degree, it’s without a doubt one of the most polarizing maps in the WAD community. And yet, I still recommend you play it, if only for the sheer curiosity.

Check the bookcases in the house near the start.

2005 – ALTAR OF EVIL

This might be the best map in this category’s roster by far.

Not overly cryptic. Challenging but not going too far. Atmospheric. Good use of Doom 64’s sound effects. No hitscanners whatsoever.

It’s a really solid map worth trying out. It might have some sound glitches, and the starting area kind of reeks of bullshit, but hey, nothing is perfect. You won’t be disappointed with this one.

2006 – ONIRIA

Another great and fun map to play.

I don’t know how, but I think I enjoyed this map more than the last time I played it. Like Grove, it is one of the more unique experiences of playing Doom WADs, but at the same time, it is much, MUCH less polarizing than that map. Somehow trying to wake up from a monochromatic dream full of skulls to collect became one of the best 2000s WADs to play. And it’s a crime that it isn’t as remembered as the other maps from the roster.

Go ahead and play it. I 100% recommend checking this map.

2007 – SONGS OF THE DAMNED

Three great maps to play in a row, people. And the second one without hitscanners.

It slightly spices up the gameplay by nerfing cacos and lost souls… and plasma gun as well (SHIT), but aside from that, it’s a rather standard, but fun map to play. It might be cheap in some places, but aside from one secret that forces straferunning and the trial-and-error guessing game with the yellow key, this map wasn’t that cheap. It’s not that hard either. And it’s pretty fun to look at when it comes to its architecture and scale.

This map will not disappoint you either.

2008 – ESCAPE FROM CASTLE CHEZCREA

We end today’s roster with a little bit of a letdown (when compared to the previous three maps).

On its own, it is still a fun map to play; it has some interesting things to do, like picking up a pickaxe to unlock one of the secrets (and that pickaxe is not a sprite), but aside from that, it’s rather standard. Nothing else really sticks out aside from some cool locations.

Still, worth checking out.

WINNER

I believe the maps from 2005 to 2007 deserve the title of the best WAD of the decade. It’s like every element of each map snapped in the right place. Only one of them will get this title, though. And I believe that Oniria deserves the second One Man Army award for the best one-map WAD of the decade. The reason for its win is basically the same one why it was named one of the best WADs of 2006 – it stands out from both AoE and SotD.

That doesn’t mean that Altar of Evil and Songs of the Damned are left with nothing. I’m naming both of them runners-up in this category… along with Grove. I might be biased with the latter one, but look, despite its polarizing ideas, it should be at least recognized.

And that’s all for the one-map WADs. Stay tuned in the future folks. The time between each part will only get longer… probably.

[revolutionarywarhistory]

The story of the Extra Regiment's ordinary soldiers: From McCay to Patton [Part 6]

Continued from part 5

The year of 1818

Map of Mount Pleasant, Jefferson County, Ohio. Courtesy of Google Maps.

Many of the soldiers whom we know of, were in "reduced circumstances." John McCay was living in Baltimore County, 54 years old, showing he was born in 1764 and wad described as "very poor." All the way across the county, in Mount Pleasant, within Ohio's Jefferson County, William Elkins felt similar pressures. He described himself as 85 years of age, which means he would have been born in 1733 or 47 years old in 1780. More likely he is 63 or 65 years old. In 1818, a person named Marren DuVall, living within Warren Township in Jefferson County, Ohio, [9] said that in 1784 she

resided in Frederick county Maryland, – that the aforenamed William Elkins, in that year[1784] came to the house of my father, William Duvall, a captain of the [Frederick County] militia, who had served two tours of duty in the service of the United States, and that from the frequent conversations, between the said Elkins and my father and other revolutionary soldiers, I sincerely beleive that the said Elkins served more than one year in the United States service – I further testify that I have heard my father and many other Revolutionary soldiers, positively say, that they had known the said Elkins while in the service of his country

Furthermore, his pension noted that he was paid $78.40 for "pay from the First August 1780 to the 1st Jan’y 1782" and $80.00 of pay from Jan. 1, 1782 to Jan. 1, 1783, along with another $43.30 from Jan. 1, 1783 until Nov. 1, 1783 when his military service came to a close.

Reprinted from my History Hermann WordPress blog.

Furthermore, William Groves, living in Allegheny County that year, was 63 years old, meaning he was born in 1755. He said he was in "reduced circumstances" and that he was in "need of the assistance of his country for support." The same was the case for Jesse Boswell. That year he as living in York, South Carolina and asked the "assistance of his country for support." A few years later, he applied for a new pension certificate since the old one was destroyed when his home burned in November 1820.

Courtesy of Google Maps. York is in northern South Carolina, only 30-36 miles away from Charlotte, North Carolina depending on the route walked.

In 1818, Philip Huston was an "old man." He described himself as "unable to work for my living and besides in extreme poverty so that I need the assistance of my country for support." The same year, the land office of Maryland noted that he was a drummer in the Maryland Line and hence was entitled to "the Lands Westward of Fort Cumberland to Lot No. 402 Containing 50 acres." He never claimed this land as records attest. There were similar circumstances for Thomas Gadd. He argued he was in "reduced circumstances" and needed the "assistance of his country for support" while living in Baltimore. While it is clear that Mr. Thomas Gadd lived in Anne Arundel County in 1810, and moved to Baltimore sometime before 1818, there are two Thomas Gadds within Queen Anne's, Maryland and hence, it is hard to know which one is him.

The Marylanders: John McCay, William Simmons, William Groves, and John Newton in 1820

John McCay was in horrible circumstances. At age 56 in 1820, he was living in Baltimore without any family, was propertyless, and of ill health since he had to quit his occupation as a sailor, only obtaining "a bare subsistence by labouring about the country." His pension further added that he was entered into a Maryland hospital and became "utterly incapable of labour" and needs to assistance of "his country or from private or public charity" due to his circumstances. Since his name is so common, it is not possible to use Federal census records in this instance. Despite that, there are people with his name consistently living in Baltimore from 1790 to 1820, and he is likely among them.

Fellow soldier William Simmons who had been at John McCay's side, was living in Harford County in 1820. At 61 years of age, he only owned $47 dollars with of property. These included one Cow, one young Cow, four pigs, rush bottomed chairs, one pine table, two iron pots, and some trifle of "Crockery ware," among little much more. He also purchased a horse for $20 and horse cart for $10 but neither is paid for and rented about 10 acres of land for $50 per year. His pension further explained that he was married to a thirty-year old woman named Elizabeth (born in 1790), and had three children with her: Joseph (born in 1810), James (born in 1813), and John (born in 1818). He argued that without the state pension he could not support himself since he was "greatly afflicted by Rheumatic pains." Six years later, he had moved to Stark County, Ohio to "improve his situation." Further records of Simmons are unclear.

Then there is William Groves. In 1820, he owned one old Spay Horse, one Cow, one Colt, and one Pot, even less than William Simmons or William Elkins. Living in Allegheny County at 50 years of age, he was a farmer but was "infirm and unable to do more than half work." He lived with his 50-year-old wife, Mary, a son that was 14 years old, and another under age five. Following the census information, it is possible that William lived in Charles County after the war, as the 1790 and 1800 censuses indicate, specifically in Durham Parish, with his family. [10] Furthermore, records indicate he lived in District 4 of Allegheny, Maryland, specifically in Cumberland, Maryland. He was described as an 83-year-old veteran in 1840, meaning this says he was born in 1757, only two years off what he said in 1820, which shows that he was sharp even in his later life, which is impressive. [11] Other parts of his pension indicate that he lived in Allegheny County from 1812 to 1849, with his wife Mary was living there in 1853.

In 1820, the Maryland General Assembly passed a law to pay him for his military service in the Maryland Line. He was to be paid the half pay of a private in "quarterly payments" as the law indicated. [12] He also received land in Western Maryland for his military service. He specifically received lot 1744, which was, at most, 12.7 miles miles away from the Northern branch of the Potomac River, in the middle of Garrett County:

Using Google Maps, we can pinpoint the location of his land in present-day Garrett County. His land is, by straight shot, 35.5 miles from Cumberland.

This shows where his lot is in relation to the Potomac River. Black dot is where his lot was. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Zoomed in focus on his lot

This shows where he lot directly was located, what it looked like on a map.

Hence, he likely did not live on this land as looking at that approximate location shows no evidence of human habitation. There is only the vast expanse of forest and some new, modern houses.

In 1820, John Newton, age 60, was living in Prince George's County.  He was a laborer who would be paid $40 per year for his pension. In his reduced circumstancs, . John Newton: writing he is "reduced circumstances" while writing in Prince George's County in 1818. The census records are no help in this case, as he is not listed. [13] However, there is strong evidence he was living in Maryland that year. This is indicated by the pension list and legislation, although there are other records that must be weeded out. [14] He specifically received pay in 1818 from the state of Maryland for his revolutionary war service. The law which granted him this pay [15] was as follows:

Resolved, That the treasurer of the western shore be and he is hereby authorised, to pay to John Newton, an old soldier, or his order, during his life, a sum of money annually, in half yearly payments, equal to the half pay of a private, for his services during the revolution.

This petition was nothing new. He had petitioned the House of Delegates in 1805 and 1806 on the same issue. [16] In those, he stated he had been wounded in battle, serving from the year 1780 until the end of the war, saying that he was with his wounds,

together with the infirmities of approaching old age, he is rendered incapable of obtaining a maintenance for himself and family

Hence, he received payment at the time, but perhaps he felt it was necessary to apply again because it did not pass the Maryland Senate. It is also worth mentioning that he married Eleanor Callean in May 27, 1781 within Prince George's County. [17]

© 2016-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[pointreyesjournal]

Feet to the Fire : ep179

I don’t think you could stuff more wood in a fireplace. When we arrived on Friday evening, there was a small pile of logs and kindling on the hearth for us to use courtesy of the homeowner. But we used it up pretty quickly.

This morning when we were getting the tandem bike out from behind the house, I found the woodpile by the shed and helped myself to a generous serving of seconds. Now I’ve got the fireplace crammed with as many logs as I could squeeze into it and it’s roaring like a medieval pyre. We’ve got the windows cracked open to let the heat out, but it’s still so warm that we’re laying on top of the sheets on the sleeper sofa.

The lights are off and the yellows, oranges and reds of the fire dance up the walls, across the ceiling and into Cheyenne’s eyes as we lay facing each other. Our fingers are playing footsie as the fire crackles and pops. I’m trying not to fill the dead airspace with chatter as Cheyenne processes out the implications of accepting the generous gift of a college scholarship and a wad of cash.

Cheyenne: Baby …

Me: Yes?

Cheyenne: Help me figure this out.

Me: There isn’t a whole lot to figure out here Shy. Somebody out there loves you enough to make a huge investment in your future, and is asking very little in return.

Cheyenne: But I told Henrik I want to do this on my own. I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.

Me: This wasn’t Henrik.

Cheyenne: Bullshit this wasn’t Henrik.

Me: Shy, I think Henrik really likes you, but let’s be honest, your existence to him is incidental at best. Henrik didn’t do this. You can figure out who did this, but you’re not asking yourself the right question.

Cheyenne: What question is that?

Me: Who really loves you? Who loves you enough to do this for you?

Cheyenne: Ohhhh. Oh shit. I hadn’t thought of that.

Her eyes well up deeply tears as she reaches for the phone and dials.

…

Beri: Hi Shy!

Cheyenne: Hi Honey.

Beri: What are you guys up to?

Cheyenne: We’re laying on a sleeper sofa in Pacific Grove, drinking a bottle of red and roasting the bottoms of our feet in front of the fireplace.

Beri: How romantic! Did you guys go to Carmel for lunch today?

Cheyenne: You know where we went for lunch today …

Beri: No I don’t.

Cheyenne: Yes you do. We went to Nepenthe.

Beri: And?

Cheyenne: Did you do this?

Beri: Do what?

Cheyenne: Enough with the charade Beri! I just want the truth. Tell me the truth and I’ll do anything you want.

Beri: Promise?

Cheyenne: I promise.

Beri: Cheyenne, I put my life savings in a cigar box and snuck it into the trunk of that Ferrari.

Cheyenne: And Henrik doesn’t know?

Beri: No. He has no idea. It was every penny I’ve ever saved.

Cheyenne lays her head down on the pillow and tears are streaming onto the screen of her iPhone. 

Cheyenne: I love you Beri.

Beri: I love you too Shy. That’s why you’re going to be on that boat with me, and that’s why you’re going to be my maid of honor. Okay?

Cheyenne: Yes. I’ll be there for you. Forever and ever, I promise. I’ll be there for you.

Beri: I know honey. You two enjoy the rest of the weekend and bring back the Ferrari in one piece.

Cheyenne: Okay. Bye.

Beri: Bye.

[kakusu-shipping]

It’s been snowing and storming where I’m from. Can I request Leshy and his challenger having a snow day? His challenger telling him to bundle up more or Leshy accidentally spooky his challenger because he’s basically a tree with some snow on it?

I'm in a very winter wonderland mood today because it rained the other day and coated everything in a thick layer of ice, and then today it was sunny and all the ice melted so if you went outside you had a 97% change of getting an icicle straight to the head.

I stood outside for like 2 hours getting pelted with sky ice for this fic.

btw while not directly mentioned in my dumb writer brain this is connected to the Save State trilogy, and is the same reader from those.

Winter Weather

Leshy X GN!Reader

In which you may or may not get beamed in the head with a snowball.

You'd realized, after a while, an interesting fact about the world of Inscryption; It didn't have seasons.

The weather cycled, sure. Some days it would rain, other's it would be sunny. Some hot, some chill. But what was interesting was how it varied from island to island.

Grimora's crypt was always at a pleasant Autumn overcast, with the occasional thunderstorm in the dead of night, always dim even during mid day and ever so slightly windy.

P03's factory was the same, overcast most days, as too much sun made the machines too hot, usually cold and smoggy. Occasionally he'd get lighting and thunder, but never rain. The air was always thicker there, more charged, as if a storm was always on the horizon.

Magnificus' tower, then, was their counter. There was rarely a day without sunshine on Magnificus' islands. He adored natural light, his entire top floor of his tower was bathed in warm sun every day. His nighttime skies were just as clear, with near constant meteor showers and stunning star clusters. He always seemed rather proud of his lands.

Leshy's forest was the outlier. Every day you'd cross his bridge, you'd find a new forecast awaiting you on the other side.

Most days were clear, though the thick grove of trees kept the sunlight from ever reaching the forest floor. The same would go for rain, keeping you dry and your walk from the bridge to the cabin.

Some days were colder, some were warmer. Once you'd entered the forest and saw, at the docks, the Angeler enjoying a wild storm, blowing the sea into a raging mass. They caught a massive fish that day, with your help of course.

So, you weren't too surprised as you entered Leshy's land once again, to find the crunch of leaves replaced with a soft crack of ice.

The forest was coated in a thick layer of ice and snow, one that would clearly have needed to build up over a few days of freezing and thawing and refreezing, which clearly hadn't happened, as just yesterday you'd spent a pleasant Spring evening with the Trapper by a fire.

You were not dressed for the sudden weather, and while a smarter person would turn back and await the sudden winter's end, you were to preoccupied by the beauty of the snow, and pressed onward.

Nothing but the crunch of your steps in the snow echoed though the forest, it was rare to find a quiet moment in Leshy's forest. Plenty of Beasts called these woods their home, and they kept the place surprisingly lively.

The silence put you on edge.

A snow ball whizzing past your head at the speed of a fucking bullet Did Not Help.

The wad of snow hit a tree with a hard crack as you spun to see your assailant, and found a pair of anxious orange eyes buried in frost covered foliage and snow.

"Leshy." You spoke in a deeply panic inducing tone that made the great scrybe flinch and drop his next snow ball. His back arched as he folded in on himself under your gaze, his hands raptoring before his chest as he avoided eye contact.

The motion of being a scared little rabbit did not make the hulking beast any shorter, but it did make him more pathetic looking. You sighed and dropped you annoyed gaze.

"Snow?" You kicked the loose snow by your feet, and Leshy nodded, still looking anxious.

"Wolves... Requested hibernation.... Thought it'd be... a good excuse..." He rung his hands together, thinking on his words in a slower pace than usual. He scratched at his chin and lost a few leaves.

"And the snowball?"

He shifted, he hated your interrogations. He always felt like he was in trouble for something. You made him anxious. He'd decided it was because you, a pitiful little human thing, were simply intimidating to him, the Great Scrybe of Beasts, and refused to look further into his feelings about it.

"...Prospectors idea..." He finally muttered, shifting in place.

"Snowball fight..." You put the thought together and scanned the area, noticing the Prospector's distinct footprints in the snow a little ways away, followed closely by the Angeler's. Seems they were a team.

Bending down you scooped the powdery snow into your bare hand, it didn't feel cold anymore, and you chose to believe that was because of the magic of the game, rather than steadily worsening frostbite.

"Well then," you shaped your weapon easily enough, the snow just the perfect mix of powder and wet to stick together, "shall we?"

Leshy perked out of self folded state at the slightest inclination you'd want to engage in combat with him, by his side. The cold felt like nothing as excitement warmed his entire body. Quickly, he started making more ammo than either of you could carry.

Achoo-

You sniffed, feet bare and soaking in a hot basin of water as you sat before a fireplace in Leshy's cabin, a quilt over your shoulders.

"WHAT is Frostbite???" Leshy poured freshly boiled water from a bucket into the basin, making you flinch, "I didn't see anything bite you!"

The panic in his voice was obvious, he never was good with new information, especially about humans and their weakness.

"It just means my skin froze-" You started, and were quickly stopped.

"YOUR SKIN???????? FROZE???????"

"It's not that big a deal." Well, it was. But you could still feel your fingers, so it probably wasn't the biggest big deal. And even if it was, it was well worth getting a chance to nail the Prospector square in the face with a snowball.

Leshy paced around the room, the floor board creaking with his every move, leaves shedding and falling from him as he scratched at himself.

"Leshy." You touched him, gently, on the arm.

He stopped dead in his tracks and collapsed into your contact, resting his head on his lap as he pooled onto the floor, staring at you like a dog looking at their sick owner. You smiled and ran your fingers though his hair.

"You're shedding." You giggled, brushing loose leaves between your fingers.

"It happens..." His voice still shook with concern, though he clearly tried to swallow it.

"So does this," You kicked your foot from the basin, splashing hot water into the fire before you, "and you don't see me freaking out over you suddenly loosing so much foliage. That's freaky."

"It is not." He sat up to be level with you, "It's very normal to shed dying foliage, it just all happens to die at once in the cold. It'll grow back just fine."

You chuckled, and kissed his raised forehead, and act that shut the scrybe up instantly, turning his cheeks a bright shade of red. He collapsed back onto your lap, no more complaints or worries to be said, as he buried his face into your thighs.

You continued to pet him, leaning back into your chair, the fire flickering, it's warmth lulling you into a comfortable rest.

[1millionsafeworkinghours]

Andrew Groves SS98 ‘Status’

Based on the idea of disease, specifically on the internal decay of a society consumed with visual images of external perfection epitomised by the beauty of the supermodel. It featured 1980s shoulder lines and complicated thread work to simulate decay. Groves said, ‘I wanted to show what was inside that was eating the clothes away’.

The narrative of Groves’ show was based on the idea of women who were beamed down from outer space and looked like perfect, untouchable mannequins but who were in fact rotting inside: the clothes were deconstructed, representing decay and disease. As a final gesture, a model opened her cotton wadding jacket to release a swarm of five hundred flies over the fashion journalists seated in the front row, causing horror and outrage. ‘Flies trapped inside a Jacket’ contained within it the disturbing idea that the flies were feeding on the model.”

[timextoxhajima]

Not For Sale: Week 14

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller

Warnings: scenes in the hospital

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 @ac-ewow @liliansun​​ [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

You’re staring at the project document blankly, the pages filled with words and tables of the work you’ve done with Heeseung in the last few weeks or so. The weekend felt like three weeks, even when it was just three days - simply because you were in the hospital watching Jay flit in and out of consciousness and Heeseung’s still in a comatose state. 

The seat next to you is empty and there is no other word to describe being alone on your last week of school than ‘sad’. 

The Uber that picked Jay and Heeseung up had just been in school compounds and the police had found a rig in the brakes - the Uber had been stopped by another car driving straight into it.

Heeseung was on the side the car was rammed into. It’s a miracle he’s even still alive. 

“y/n?” 

The call jolts you out of your dissociation.

“Hey,” The professor walks up the stairs, and only now do you realise everybody else had left the lecture hall besides you. “I had the others hand up their projects but I saw you zoning out and I couldn’t do it.”

“Sorry,” Mumbling under your breath, you give the folder a quick flip-through before handing him the document. “Here.”

With pursed lips, he takes the folder and glances through it, skimming through the contents and pausing on the last page where you and Heeseung had signed off on. 

“I’m sorry it happened.”

“I’m sorry the school had to go through so much to catch the idiot,” Through gritted teeth, you offer him a small wince. 

“Well, yeah, that too,” The professor pulls up the lecture table from the seat next to you and sits himself in the plastic grove. “But it’s not important now. He’s going to be charged for God knows how many felonies, but I just- I wanted to know how you’re holding up.”

The concerned question thrums chills through you. Heeseung would’ve asked that. Jay would’ve too.

Jake and Sunghoon have probably tried, but you’re too busy crying or zoning out at the hospital to process anything else even if they did try. 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head and stuff your iPad into your bag. “There’s nothing anybody can do to make him wake up faster.”

“I know that. It’s just... I don’t want a student ending her semester like this.”

The grumble of the zip as you close your bag is disgustingly loud in the empty lecture hall. You hug your bag, slowly looping your arm through one of the holes as you push the lecture table away. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving next week anyway and Heeseung’s not dead, so.”

The professor goes quiet upon the declaration. 

“Thanks for the fun sem, Prof,” You give him a tiny, wretched smile that’s not genuine at all, lifting a leg over the backrest of the seat in front of you. “I’ll tell my dad to say hi to you every now and then.”

Finally on both your feet one row before him, he looks at you with sad, tired eyes. 

“It’s been a pleasure having you and Heeseung as students, y/n. Do come back to visit when you come visit your father.”

A bare nod shakes your head.

“Bye prof.”

The ceiling looks the same. The light dangling from the beige, crusty roof looks dusty.

The room looks the same - except the fact that 80% of it were in boxes now. The clock hung on the wall has the loudest ticking you’ve ever heard - had it been this loud since the start?

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzz-

“Hello.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to call you before you’d pick up?”

Maybe until Heeseung wakes up.

“You know what? Don’t answer that.”

A pause.

“How are you holding up?”

“Great. I mean the sem’s over. I’ve handed up almost every project I need to submit.”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that.”

“What am I supposed to tell you? I’m great, while I wait for my two friends to recover in the hospital? One of them’s not even awake.”

“I don’t want to be that person but no matter how much you cry or pray that he wakes up, it’s going to take time, okay? Let him rest and recuperate and he’ll spring back to life like he wasn’t just in an accident.”

“I shouldn’t have let them take the Uber.”

“For crying out loud, it is not your fault. You told them your dad was coming to get you and Jay didn’t want to cancel it for the fee. It’s a normal reaction. Who was supposed to know the Uber was rigged?”

You blink. 

“Have you packed?”

You count the boxes in your room. “Mostly.”

“I’ll be at your place when you come home. We can bake cupcakes and cookies and you can tell me about the school there.”

Your ears are taking in her words but your eyes are on the paper bag on your desk. It’s the tumbler that Jay got you. 

“Hello? You there?”

“Byeol, what if they don’t wake up before I leave? I have 8 days.”

“Have some faith in them, would you? Jay’s already awake right? He’s just flitting in and out of consciousness and Heeseung... They haven’t said he’s in critical condition, right?”

“But he’s been in the ER and it’s been three days.”

“Sis, I could sleep for three days. He’ll be awake before you leave.”

“Hope so.”

“Not going to the hospital?”

“Nah,” You roll over onto your side and stare at yourself in the mirror on your wardrobe doors. “Their friends are swarming the wards. It’s fine, Jake and Hoon got me onto the special visitors’ list.”

“There’s a special visitors’ list?”

“It’s Jay and it’s an expensive hospital with classier management. So yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s nice.”

Silence - except the occasional crackling of the static on the phone. 

“They’ll do fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye bye.”

The car ride with your father is quiet, the gentle music from the stereo playing and you’re thinking about how your mother is back at home. She is a busy woman back home too so you hadn’t really had the time to call or text her.

For the first time in a long time, your father knows more about your life than she does. 

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to answer this but...” The car slows at a red light. “Have you started packing?”

You don’t turn. The trees outside are swaying gently in the light breeze on this sunny day. It reminds you of the day Heeseung brought you out to the beach for your picnic. 

“I’m about 80% done. The stuff left’s like my laptop and iPad and daily appliances.”

“That’s good,” You see him nod in the window’s reflection and glance at you. “Well, I’ll come by and hand you the documents for credit transfer later this week and I’ll send you to the bus terminal next Wednesday too, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Humming to yourself, the refracted red light turns green. “Sure.”

The car starts again. “Hun, I... I just wanted you to know that I know this sem has been difficult for you. I’m- I’m sorry that I suggested you come. Had I known that there was going to be a lunatic running on the loose, I would’ve stopped you from coming.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” You mumble, but still loud enough for him to hear. “It’s fine, it’s over.”

“And with what happened with Jay and Heeseung... I’m sorry. I really am.”

“They would’ve gotten caught up in this crazy shitfest with the psycho anyway, regardless of my presence,” Finally turning to look at your father, he side-eyes you while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s not anybody’s fault except that psycho’s that this happened.”

Your father remains quiet, unable to respond. The car drives into the sheltered drop-off point at the hospital and he watches you unbuckle the seat belt to let yourself out the car.

“Hey.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and rest a hand on the car door. 

“They’ll be okay.”

A weak smile pulls your lips up your cheeks. 

“I hope so.”

By the time you’ve reached the floor where the wads were, you’ve run into a good number of their friends. Of course, there were one or two bad apples among the bunch, but most of them knew you were on a special visitors’ list and that’s why you came so late. 

It never gets easier though, the look on their faces when you know they want to tell you that they’ll be okay, but promises should not be made if they cannot be kept.

Walking into Jay’s ward, you see his mother helping to sponge his face while Jake and Sunghoon speak to a friend on the other side of the bed. 

You catch the room’s attention when you pull the plastic bag out from your bag and let the door shut behind you, Jay’s mother looking up and offering you a tired smile. 

“Oh, hey,” Jake grins and beckons you over. 

“Hi Mrs Park,” You gesture to Jake to wait before holding out the plastic bag to Jay’s mother. “It’s a box of tonic for you and Mr Park. Thought of getting fruits but I don’t think Jay can have them yet.”

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” She shakes her head and sets the cloth down by the bed. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay, coming to visit so often? You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”

You return her a tight, pursed smile. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m leaving to go home next week so I don’t have much time left to spend with them. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, honey,” She stands and takes the box from you, turning to set it down on the table behind her before returning you her attention. “I... I don’t know what to say. This must be all a lot for you.”

You break the eye contact first, knowing that you were probably going to cry if you hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“No, it’s fine,” You raise a palm and rub her upper arm. “All I want is to have a decent conversation with Jay before I leave, and I’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, nose crunching into a threatened crying mess. She holds her arms open and coerces you into her arms, patting the back of your head. “Of course. Of course, Jay will be fine by the time you need to go home. I promise.”

“I really do hope so,” You pull away first and smile weakly at her.

“By the way, Mr and Mrs Lee are with Heeseung in the ward next door,” She sniffles, anxiously rubbing her palms together.

“Oh, right- Do they know I’m on the-”

“Yes, of course they do, sweet heart,” She quickly rubs your arm to comfort you, then slides her hands down to yours to keep them in her palms. “Their parents are the sweetest couple ever and they’d be so grateful that Heeseung has a friend like you. How about I have Jake or Sunghoon bring you over to meet them?”

“Oh,” You watch as she waves to get one of the boys’ attention, Sunghoon quickly pulling away from the crowd to attend to you. 

“Would you do me a favour and bring her over to Heeseung’s ward? Introduce her to his parents.”

“Of course,” Sunghoon hurriedly nods and lowers his head out of respect. “Come on.”

“Thanks, Mrs Park,” You turn your feet to follow Sunghoon, but your hands are reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, take your time, sweet.”

With a slight nod, you pull away and trail after Sunghoon out of the ward after leaving your bag with Jake.

The ward door closes with a soft hiss, then Sunghoon pauses right before you can come into view of Heeseung’s ward door, turning over his shoulder to look down at you. 

“I don’t mean to bring this up at a bad time but...”

“I know,” You nod. “I know I’ve been an ass the last few weeks. Honestly, I... I didn’t know who I wanted to be endgame either.”

Sunghoon gives your word one more second of thought before he turns around to face you. 

“It’s not my business but are you going to choose? Or... just go home next week?”

You frown and look down at your hands, reminiscing the warmth from Jay’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t think I can choose. Even if I do, I have 8 days, and neither of them are awake yet. I don’t... I don’t want to do that to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s Heeseung. Choose Heeseung,” He says without looking at you. “The night they got into a crash, Jay texted Jake to tell us that Heeseung kissed you, and that was the moment he decided he would give up.”

The statement tears you apart on the inside. 

“Jay’s a tough guy to hurt and he plays his cards fairly and maturely,” Sunghoon nods and finally looks at you. “Don’t feel bad you’re choosing Heeseung over him. He had a truce with Heeseung. About you. And he knows he lost fair and square, so don’t feel upset. Just pour your heart and soul into Heeseung for the rest of the time you’re here, and worry about committing anything else after you’ve gone home.”

You part your lips to breathe, as if it would help you understand any faster or better.

“Anyway, both Heeseung’s parents are in there and they already have an idea who you are so... Just be nice.”

He watches you nod, slightly zoned-out, then pushes the door open. 

His parents can tell you’re more preoccupied with the limp, breathing body on the bed than their presence, but they still take it with grace and greet you like they’ve known you your entire life.

The sight of Heeseung being bandaged up with a leg hanging in the air makes you feel like shit.

Who wouldn’t?

Later in the night, after Heeseung’s mother had gone home and his father had left to get coffee, you’re left alone with him and the occasional beeping from the Holter monitor. 

There was a bruise and scratch on his left cheek, and his neck, arms and right leg were in a cast. You think about how much he was going to miss dancing when he gets told he’ll need to be on a 6-month break from anything strenuous. 

Tired, you pull your earpieces out and plug it into your phone, laying it on the bed while you hover over him to fit the earbuds into his ears. Then you sit back down and scroll through your playlist, playing with the volume buttons to make sure it was softer than the volume you’d normally listen to your music at. 

You make your selection, then quietly lay on the mattress with the faint music drizzling the atmosphere’s noise. That’s how quiet the room was. 

His fingers were sticking out of his cast, so you play with them. His hair was in his shut eyes, so you gently push them out in case he were to open them. 

“One more time, Heeseung. Just one more time before I leave.”

Jay’s mother was sleeping by his bed when you walk in to check on them, bag hanging from your right shoulder and lids heavy from the terrible sleep schedule the past few days. 

“Hi.”

And a smile stretches your lips out when you can see him blink, offer you his bright grin, apart from the cut on his eyebrow.

“Hey,” You whisper, walking towards him on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jay clears his throat and blinks. “Had better days, but at least I’m alive.”

A snigger threatens to wake his mother up. “Good. Do you want me to wake your mom up? Maybe get a doctor in to give you a check up or something.”

He shakes his head, even managing a small wave in his fingers laying by his hip. “No, I’m good. I’m going back to sleep soon anyway.”

You lean over and adjust his pillow. “Well, then I shan’t disturb you. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Sure,” He looks up at you and nods. Your gazes meet, for a split second, he can kind of know what you’re thinking of, and you know what he was. 

“Thank you for this sem, Jay. I really am.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. It was a fun sem because of you.”

“You call being in a hospital ward fun?”

Chuckling, he turns back to look at the ceiling for a second. “You will come back to visit us, won’t you? Zoom call us or something.”

“Of course. We could meet up during the summer break if anything.”

Satisfied, he nods again. “Good.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” You shove your hands into your pockets. 

“Okay,” He quietly responds, watching you turn on your heels. “Oh, y/n.”

You turn and raise a brow.

“Heeseung. He’s the one for you, and... he’ll wake up for you. I know he will.”

With a slightly ached grin, you nod and look down at your feet. 

“Bye Jay.”

“Bye.”