#let’s stack up a thousand today’s together.

[fallingformatt]

SINCE WE’RE PLAYING GAMES M.S.

Matt x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you try to cheat your way to win a game of twister?

warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT! unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: Yall are some freaky fucking fucks… over a thousand notes on my post? Yall are insane, im so thankful for yall dirty minded ass people. I truly did not expect that to happen on my second post ever. And thank you all for almost 300 followers yall are the GOATS!!!

Let me know if I should write a pt. 2 for FIRST GLANCE M.S. available here

post is not proofread

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I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[alwaysurvalentine]

the luck I've had can make a good man turn bad - fic

Written for Day 5 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths - word count: 4.1k (this one got away from me) - cw: some cussing, allusions to parents fighting in another room, allusions to money issues, bullying mentioned (nothing graphic)

enjoy! 💛

~~~

When Eddie is five years old, his Uncle Wayne takes him to the aquarium. He talks the entire car ride, reading out the road signs they pass and counting the dashes in the road. He’s so excited that he doesn’t have to play the Quiet Game on the way there that he doesn’t even question it when Wayne comes to pick him up.

Eddie’s Mama helped him pack a bag and said he gets to stay with his Uncle Wayne the whole weekend, he’s so excited! Uncle Wayne always lets him stay up late and tells the best bedtime stories. 

They’ve been on the road for a couple hours when they end up in a city. Uncle Wayne says it’s Louisville, but all Eddie can focus on is the tallest buildings he’s ever seen his whole life. They can fit millions of people in there! When he voices this, Wayne says only a couple thousand are in there. Which is basically the same thing - but Eddie’s not gonna correct his math when he sees them pulling into a Denny’s parking lot.

“We get to have Denny’s?! You’re the bestest!!!!” Eddie’s already unbuckling his belt by the time Wayne’s at his door, opening it to help him out. “Can I get pancakes? Please, please, please!” 

Another chuckle and a shake of the head is his response from Wayne, who’s holding out a hand for Eddie to grab. They cross the parking lot together, Eddie skipping with a toothy grin. 

“Well, go on then, find us a table.” At his uncle’s words, Eddie’s brown eyes scan the room. There’s a few tables next to the windows, but most of those already have people there - and then he sees it. The best table ever. It’s closer to the middle of the room but it’s got two booth seats opposite each other. Perfect for him and his Uncle Wayne! He darts over without saying anything and Wayne follows, slower, but still with a quirk of his lip that Eddie’s Mama said means he’s smiling.

He can’t read the whole menu, but he finds chocolate chip pancakes based on the picture on the side - which he points to when he orders from the nice lady named Sarah. When it’s Wayne’s turn to order he just gets nasty coffee. (Eddie snuck a sip of his mama’s cup once - it tastes like dirt.) 

~

“WHAT is THAT?” Eddie yells - tiny finger pointed at the whale shark swimming above them. A couple of people around them turn to look at him when he yells, but Wayne doesn’t seem bothered - pointing at the words on the wall. 

“This says it’s a whale shark. They’re the biggest sharks in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?” 

~

There’s a stuffed whale shark in the gift shop when they’re leaving. Eddie’s seen so many fish today, but none of them were nearly as cool as the whale shark. His eyes find it, and before he knows it his legs have carried him over to the stack of them. A couple friendly clown fish sit nearby, but nothing interests him as much as the whale shark. It looks like it’s the size of his bed, but he doesn’t care - he has to take this home. Mama and him can lay on it when she sings him to sleep and he can cuddle up with it when Mama and Dad get loud in the living room. 

“Eddie? What’d you find?” Eddie grins up at Wayne, smiling big enough to cause his dimples to show. He’s holding on to one of the sharks now, and he was right, it’s bigger than he is. The tail is bent slightly on the ground with his arms wrapped around its sewn gills. 

“I love him. Can we get him Uncle Wayne? Mama would love him! I know he’s not as big as the real thing but this will help her believe me when I tell her it was the size of a car! Dad might even like him, since sharks are the coolest animal.” 

As Eddie rambles, Wayne checks the price tag dangling off of the shark’s front fin. He knew his nephew was going to ask for something from the gift shop, and if this had been a planned visit instead of a quick phone call from Eddie’s mom type of visit, he might’ve had the money. But as it was, the only thing he knew for sure he could afford was the tiny key chain he’d grabbed on his way over to find Eddie. Now it’s just trying to convince Eddie that the keychain is just as cool.

~

Eddie’s pouting in his car seat, brown eyes focused on the trees outside instead of singing along to the station Wayne turned on to the radio. He did buy the keychain but that didn’t stop the tears that streamed down Eddie’s face for the first 30 minutes of the ride. The tears have stopped, but Wayne’s heart breaks at each quiet sniffle coming from the back seat.

***

Uncle Wayne is at the door again. Except this time Eddie’s ten years old and he’s the one that called. He can’t stand being in the house all alone. His mom passed four years ago and his dad’s never been the same - not that he was a stand up guy to begin with. Good old dad said he was going out to “shoot some pool with a couple of buddies”, and while this would normally be fine, Eddie’s run out of Kraft mac and cheese to eat.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne. Sorry I had to call, I was just thinking I haven’t stayed over in a little while. Would it be okay-”

“Where’s Al?” As always, his uncle cuts straight to the chase. His voice is gruff, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice now in reading his uncle and can hear the concern laced in his words. 

He scuffs his converse against the floor and shrugs. “I dunno. He said he was gonna play pool with some guys.” Eddie looks up again to see Wayne looking around the trailer. He should’ve cleaned up after he called him; the dirty dishes in the sink and the trashcan full of candy wrappers says more than he meant to share. 

“Eddie, how-”

“Just forget it. I shouldn’t have called - it was stupid.” Brown eyes meet Wayne’s green ones defiantly, daring him to finish the sentence. 

“Alright, c’mon boy. Let’s go get Denny’s.”

~

The pancakes on Eddie’s plate are drowned in syrup, chocolate chips smeared across the top of them. A cup of black coffee sits in front of Wayne.

“What time does school start on Monday?”

A disbelieving smile starts to spread on Eddie’s face. “I can stay with you all weekend?!”

Wayne nods and sips his coffee, a small smile of his own hidden by the lip of the cup. “We’ll leave a note for your dad, but yeah. I don’t see why not.”

~

Unfortunately, Al Munson is at home when they get back, and with him comes the end of all of Eddie’s weekend plans. Al pitches a fit, sends Eddie to his room so he and Wayne can “have some words”. Eddie doesn’t know why he bothered sending him to his room when his dad’s shouting can be heard through the whole trailer anyway. 

“Don’t need you telling me how to raise my own damn son!”

Wayne’s words don’t carry as well as his dad’s but he can hear some kind of murmur in response. 

“Fuck off Wayne, you always thought you were better than me. I don’t care what you think, he lives under my roof so he follows my rules. He doesn’t need somebody babying him!”

Another murmur. 

“Get the hell out of my house! Don’t even bother coming back! I don’t care if that brat calls you or not!”

Eddie’s back is pressed against his door, knees tucked to his chest as he listens. He was stupid to call Wayne. Stupid to think his dad would let him go stay the weekend with him. He’s just tired. 

He’s tired of having cereal and mac and cheese for dinner. He’s tired of having to eat off of his friend’s lunch trays because his dad hasn’t paid for his school lunches. He’s tired of using duct tape to keep the bottom of his shoes attached because Al won’t buy him more. He’s tired of being left alone for days on end. His dad is right, he can take care of himself - he just doesn’t want to. 

He misses his mom.

***

“Eddie? What happened?” 

The teen brushes off his uncle’s words and heads into the trailer, bee-lining to his room. Eddie knows he looks rough, but seeing his reflection from the mirror on his dresser tells him not about this with Wayne isn’t going to be an option.

“Eddie, can I come in?” Speak of the devil; there he is knocking at Eddie’s door. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” He sits back on his bed, eyes focused on the floor instead of the man stepping carefully into his space, and Wayne lets him sit in silence for a moment before sitting at the foot of Eddie’s bed. 

“You gonna tell me what happened? Or are we just acting like your nose isn’t a bit more crooked than it was this mornin’?” Eddie stays silent. “I know you’re about as graceful as a bull in a china shop, but normally it’s your knees coming home bloody - not your nose. If you’re not gonna talk about it, you gonna at least let me have a look?”

“Why does it matter? No one cares in this fucking town anyway. Everyone always has something to say. Oh did you hear that Munson boy had to move because his dad’s in jail? Eddie’s a weirdo, don’t be friends with him. Have you seen his clothes? Doesn’t even have enough money to get new pants when he rips out the knees. Oh well, I heard that his uncle took him in just for the tax benefits - Lord knows it wouldn’t be worth it to have him otherwise. He’s going to be just like his daddy when he gets older, scamming people - don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Shut your mouth, boy!” 

Eddie’s mouth clamps shut, teeth slamming together with an audible click. He’s shaking slightly, fists clenched at his sides. He can’t meet Wayne’s eyes. 

“You listen to me, and you listen good.” Wayne’s voice is stern but like always, Eddie can hear the affection in it. 

“Look at me,” Eddie raises his eyes slowly, jaw tense even if it causes his nose to throb.

“You ain’t nothing like your daddy. You’re your mama through and through, God bless her. And just because people can’t see past their own noses don’t mean you need to be listening to their shit. You’ve been nothing but a good kid since I met you, so unless you committed some crazy crimes that first week of your life then I think I’m good authority on this. I mean it, Eddie, you’re nothing like him. You keep being you, and you never will be him. Now lemme take a look at your nose.”

***

“Welcome to Family Video!” Eddie looks to the counter, eyes locking with none other than Steve Harrington’s before smirking.

“Is that any way to greet me? Your favorite customer?” He saunters to the counter, limp slowing him down only slightly - physical therapy the past 3 months making it possible at all.

Steve rolls his eyes but the huge smile on his face gives him away. “Sorry, let me try again.” And then he turns around, hazel eyes catching Eddie’s again, fluttering his eyelashes. “Oh! Hello Eddie!” He finishes his new welcome with a wink and then leans against the counter. The sun coming in through the windows makes Steve look like a painting, a modern day Adonis. He’s made to be in the sunlight.

“Anyway, what’s the occasion today? Came to finally return Alien?” Steve’s hair is a little floppier than usual, and he’s been letting it grow out since the end of July so it’s curling up slightly at the end of his neck. It doesn’t cover the two moles on Steve’s neck, the perfect place to bite - and Eddie’s getting off track. 

“As if. That movie’s basically mine and Wayne’s now. No point in trying to get it back.” Eddie shrugs, shaking his head mockingly. He and Steve know he’s had it checked out for at least a year now. They both also know that Steve waived his late fees the moment he got promoted to manager. 

“Just came to bother Hawkins’ favorite babysitter.” Steve’s eyes narrow at him now, leaning away from the counter to peer outside. 

“Which one put you up to this? What do you need?” His hands are on his hips, opening the green vest to tease Eddie with the broad expanse of his chest hidden by a light blue polo. Eddie’s mouth feels a lot dryer than it was when he walked in. Okay - stop looking at the silver buckle on his belt, look at something else. Yeah, yeah, the tangled phone cord - that’s interesting.

“Why does it always have to be something?”

Hazel eyes level him with a look that paints a blush on his cheeks, causing Eddie to cough. 

“Okay, maybe Will’s got a campaign planned for us to play. Buuuut-”

“But the cabin isn’t big enough for all of you to play in?” Steve cuts him off, crossing his arms over his chest instead. Which does nothing to help Eddie’s blush, eyes now distracted by the bulge of his arms. Which makes him think of Steve’s arm behind his back during the last group movie night. Which then makes him think of Steve offering his arms during physical therapy, easily holding Eddie up as he stumbled along. Which then makes Eddie think of how easily Steve was able to help him into the wheelchair he had for a few weeks. 

“-ie? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Eddie blinks and shakes his head, bringing into focus Steve’s brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay. Gotta head out - Wayne’s waiting in the van. So we can host it at your place? Thanks!”

And then Eddie’s limping back towards the door, thoroughly embarrassed. Leave it to him to get a massive crush on THE Steve Harrington and become a huge idiot in front of him. Screw Robin for making him realize he’d fallen for the guy in the first place, no more late night smoking sessions with Birdie. 

“Yeah, okay. Tell Wayne I said hi!” Steve calls behind him and he flashes a smile over his shoulder as he steps through the door. 

~

There’s an open notebook to Eddie’s right and a pencil tucked behind his ear while he sits crouched over his guitar. He hasn’t written anything new in the last 30 minutes, his mind wandering to Steve again. He wishes he and Robin hadn’t decided to play truth or dare last night. If he’d only picked dare! Instead he picked truth and just like the teenage girl she is, Robin had to ask about crushes. And then he just - started talking about Steve and couldn’t stop. Robin got this weirdly focused look in her eyes and then just cryptically said that he should “tell Steve how you feel!” which had him choking on air. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Brown eyes widened, staring into Robin’s blue ones. 

“You should tell him how you feel!” She’d grinned, eyes red rimmed but nonetheless sincere. 

“Birdie…he doesn’t even know I’m like that…what if he acts weird after? I can’t lose him.” 

“Eddie.” Robin placed her hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes, close enough that their noses were almost touching. 

“He knows about me. And he’s my Platonic soulmate, knowing this isn’t going to do anything but make things better. He’s a good guy. I promise Eddie, nothing bad is going to happen if you tell him.”

And then she’d backed up to her side of the couch again, reaching for the bag of popcorn they’d made earlier. 

“Eddie! Phone for you! Sounds like your boy!” Wayne’s teasing voice calls through the trailer and Eddie almost drops his guitar in his haste to grab at the phone on his bedside table (a perk from being stuck at the house for recovery).

“Waaaynee!” His voice comes out like a petulant teenager but he doesn’t catch his uncle’s response because he’s already holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Stevie.” He’s breathless even though Steve hasn’t said anything, face warming just like earlier.

“Eddie! Hey! So I said I’d host, but you didn’t say what day.” 

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, can imagine him peering into his fridge with the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear. Eddie sets his guitar against the end of his bed and leans back against his pillows. 

“My bad, yeah, Will the Wise said he wanted to do it next weekend, that work for you?” 

“I have to open next Saturday but if you guys are okay with starting around dinner time, that works for me? I can talk to Mrs. Byers and the Sinclairs about doing a sleepover, can you ask Dustin’s mom and see about giving Max a ride? I’m sure Nancy can let her mom know Mike will be staying over. What kind of snacks do you guys need? I can go to the store on Thursday when I’m off. I can rearrange the living room too…I’ll have to tidy up the guest rooms. Maybe Hopper has some extra firewood we could use and have a little bonfire too? I’ll see if Robin wants to come, we could watch some kind of movie while you play.” 

Steve’s in his own world and Eddie can almost hear the faint scratch of the pen he knows Steve is using to write out a checklist. The list will help keep Steve from forgetting anything, something that Steve has admitted he’s had some trouble with. Remembering the small things, that is. Has to write down dates and specific plans otherwise the day will creep up on him and he’ll only remember when one of the kids contacts him on the radio. It’s happened more times than he’s comfortable with, and now he writes everything down. Has a notebook near his home phone and even keeps a small handheld notebook in his car just in case. Eddie saw it once, accidentally sitting on it; got to see a page covered in bullet points. 

Eddie Physical Therapy MWF 2-3 PM!!

Dustin back from Camp Know Where on Tuesday the 17th

Eddie says to listen to Black Sabbath ??

Will and El staying over on the 3rd so Hopper and Mrs. Byers can go on date

Give Eddie back his vest ???

Oil Change

Ask Eddie

  But he couldn’t finish reading the list before Steve had grabbed the notebook to shove into the center console. 

“Stevie, sweetheart-” and he swears he can hear a stutter in Steve’s breath, “we can just order a couple pizzas and be fine. Don’t worry about getting specific snacks or anything. I’ll talk to Claudia and you know I’ll make sure Max gets there in one piece. Everyone’s gonna be excited just to play, let alone stay the night and get some of that breakfast casserole you always make for us.” He’s joking with his words and is rewarded with a chuckle from Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it only when I get some help in the kitchen. Peeling and cutting all those potatoes is hard work. But yeah, we can order pizza for the group.” The stress has eased from his voice, and the Steve in Eddie’s mind’s eye is ripping away the previous notes to replace it with one that just says pizza for dinner and the ingredients for Steve’s breakfast casserole (potatoes, eggs, shredded cheese). 

“Uh-huh. You tell me when you stop needing the potatoes in perfect cubes and I’ll help. Little Stevie Homemaker has to have his food perfect otherwise no one’s allowed to eat it.” He teases again, pulling a strand of his hair to his mouth, chewing on the end slightly. 

~

Steve’s messing with something in the kitchen when Eddie and Max walk in. Max beelines to the living room, circling the coffee table before plopping down on the left side of the couch. Her hair is in two haphazard braids that Eddie knows El will offer to fix as soon as she walks in. She cuts her eyes to him and nods towards the kitchen, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mayfield.” He pokes a finger in her direction and squints his eyes. The effect is lost on her though because she’s already turned back towards the TV, remote in hand, while he heads towards the kitchen. 

At least three cabinet doors are slammed shut before Eddie steps into the kitchen. Steve’s back is to him, a green T-shirt stretched across his back - his shoulders are tense and Eddie can almost see an exact outline of the boy’s shoulders. He can’t make out what he’s saying, but Steve’s mumbling as he works. There’s a towel covered bowl behind him on the island, but he’s pulling out smaller bowls and setting them on the counter next to the fridge. 

“What’s all this, Stevie?” And Steve jumps about 2 feet in the air at his voice, whipping around quick enough that his bangs settle back down on his head while he scowls at Eddie. 

“I thought I told you to be here at 6.” 

“And I thought I told you that we would order pizza tonight.” Eddie’s looking down at the homemade dough he sees sitting in the bowl he uncovered. Now that Steve’s turned around, he can see that he was pulling bowls out to dump toppings into. A jar of olives, cut green peppers, mushrooms, a bag of pepperoni, and a large bag of cheese - all the makings of a pizza, just no sauce. When he looks back to the boy in front of him, he’s wiping his hands on a gray towel he had over his shoulder. A light blush is on his cheeks, traveling down to the collar of his shirt - Eddie thinks if he didn’t have it on that pretty pink would travel further down his chest. He hears another mumble from Steve but he turns as he’s talking so he misses it, and Steve’s shoulders seem more tense than before. 

“What was that? Hey, please?” Eddie rounds the corner of the island and reaches a hand out to rest on Steve’s shoulder, turning him slightly. He’s looking down but lets Eddie turn him, hands slowing their fidgeting with the towel. 

“Mario’s pizza has too much grease, and this way all of the kids can put their own toppings on theirs.” 

Again, Eddie is reminded of how sweet Steve really is. He’s so glad he’s gotten to know this Steve instead of the “King” he thought the younger man was. His hand travels from Steve’s shoulder with a mind of its own, resting against his right cheek. If he moves his thumb slightly he could cover up the moles right there on Steve’s left cheek. Hazel eyes are hidden from him, Steve’s eyes closed as he leans slightly into the contact. 

Eddie really wants to kiss him. 

“Stevie…” His voice is little more than a whisper but Steve opens his eyes regardless. The light from the kitchen window highlights the gold in Steve’s eyes and Eddie’s breath stutters at what he sees there. 

Does Steve want to kiss him?

Loud knocking shocks both them and Eddie drops his hand like it’s been burned. “STEVE!! Why is your door locked? Let us in!!” Dustin’s voice is muffled only because there’s a door and room between them, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Let me go let them in, can you stir that for me?” Then he just nods towards a simmering pan on the stove like nothing happened. And Eddie can do nothing but nod once before watching Steve walk away. He hopes he’s not imagining how red Steve’s face is before he leaves the kitchen.

Maybe after the kids leave he and Steve can have a little chat - seems like Robin might be right. If he’s lucky maybe he’ll even get to kiss Steve before the night ends. 

But until then, he’ll stir Steve’s homemade pizza sauce and play the most distracted D&D game he’s ever played. He might’ve been through hell and back, with or without the Upside Down, but things might just be looking up for him now.

(Now with a part two!)

[haddonfieldwhore]

bedsheets - ethan landry

nsfw // no spoilers 🔪 // pre ghostface attacks

warnings: nsfw, protected!sex, sub!ethan, sub!reader, friends to lovers, language, slight praise kink, it’s just fluffy as hell, not edited!!

soft ethan playlist 🎧

can be read as a part 2 to “tired” or on its own

you and ethan walked out of study hall together, after an especially boring lecture that had you almost asleep at your desk.

“that was the longest 2 hours of my life,” you sighed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you shoved your textbook into it. “i think i’m gonna skip the afternoon today.”

“i could meet up with you later? i’ve still got english today, but i’ll be done at 3,” he offered. you grabbed his hand, dragging him in the opposite direction of his class, and he smiled as he followed behind you.

“or…,” you began. “you could skip your classes and just hang out with me now,” you suggested,

giving him your best puppy dog eyes. ethan knew he could never say no to you, and let you drag him to his dorm building.

the door closed behind you as ethan set his bag down on the floor, and you followed him to the living room area of his dorm.

“hey man,” you heard his roomate, chad call out to ethan from the other room.

“hey. we have a guest so i hope you’re decent,” he laughed.

“yeah i’m good, dude.” chad said walking out of his room, indeed fully dressed. “hey,” he greeted you, and you smiled in return.

“don’t you have class right now?” chad asked ethan, who was grabbing each of you a drink from the mini fridge in the tiny kitchen area.

“yeah.. i was gonna go, but this one’s a bad influence, they convinced me not to go.” ethan gestured to you, and you playfully raised your hands in surrender.

“well, i’m on my way out, so the place is yours,” chad explained, winking at ethan behind your back, and the he pushed his shoulder in return. you sat down on the couch and waved goodbye to chad as he slid his letterman jacket on and walked out the door. ethan sat next to you, turning on the tv.

“movie?” he suggested, and you nodded.

“you pick- i’m cool with whatever,” you replied, and ethan flipped through a stack of dvds before picking one and putting it in the player. the menu screen for “i know what you did last summer” popped up and ethan pressed play. you weren’t honestly too interested in the movie, just happy to not be in class. ethan and you had both seen the movie before, so you didn’t think he’d mind talking over it.

“where was chad going?” you asked.

“to hang out with tara i think,”

“do you think he’s ever gonna make a move on her?” it was obvious to everyone that chad and tara were into eachother, except for chad and tara themselves. ethan laughed, a smile spreading across his face as he thought of his friends.

“maybe. i can’t believe neither of them see how into eachother they are,” he admitted. “i think i’d figure it out if one of my friends had a thing for me.” you hoped ethan couldn’t see the blush on your face as you thought you were going to sink into the floor. you and ethan were best friends, and had always been incredibly close. it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to fall asleep in each others arms after a movie on the couch, or for you to sit in his lap at sam and tara’s when there wasn’t enough chairs for everyone. and you were perfectly content with it never being anymore than that, since you thought that’s what ethan wanted.

“yeah…” you replied, trying to focus back on the movie, but all you could think of was how close you and ethan were. his leg was just inches from brushing against yours, his arm over the back of the couch. it would be almost too easy to curl into his side, to rest your head in his chest and listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart like you had what felt like a thousand times before. so why was it any different now? why did you have to complicate things all of the sudden?

“you okay?” he asked, leaning closer to look at you, and you tried to avoid looking into his pretty brown eyes.

“just…. tired,” you whispered, not even sounding convincing to yourself, as you looked down at your lap.

“you know i can tell when you’re lying right?” he asked softly, and you looked back up at him, your noses almost touching.

“eeth-“

“can i kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. you tried to reply, but couldn’t form words, nodding instead. ethan leaned forward, closing the gap between you and gently pressing his lips to yours. “come here,” he whispered, taking a hold of your arm and pulling you onto his lap, straddling him as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

“please-“ he cut you off by kissing you again, his lips so soft as they moved with yours. your fingers clung to the fabric of the front of his t-shirt, before sliding over his clavicle and up the sides of his neck, and he let out a whine underneath you. ethan’s arms tightened around your waist, moving you against his lap slightly, and you moaned softly into his mouth. his hands slid up the back of your shirt slightly before he stopped, separating his lips from yours.

“is this okay?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“yes, this is more than okay,” you assured him, connecting your lips again. his warm hands still sent shivers up your back as they slid underneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they moved higher. your hand moved up the sides of ethan’s neck and twisted into his chocolate brown curls, tugging slightly.

“hmm..fuck,” ethan whimpered, and you bit his bottom lip gently, causing him to moan loudly. his hands slid down your sides to grip your hips, moving you to grind slightly against him. “can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

“i’m sorry….do you want me to help you with that?” you teased, moving your hand down to palm his hardening length through the fabric of his jeans. his head fell back against the soft couch, exposing his neck. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and you leaned forward to gently nip at soft skin below his jaw.

“i need you,” ethan moaned as you left hickeys up his throat, and he shuddered underneath you as you found his sweet spot. “fuck-“

“you can have me,” you assured him, and he lifted his head to look at you, his gaze soft as he brought his hand up to hold your chin lightly, his thumb tracing over your lips. you opened your mouth and let him slide his thumb past your lips, sucking on it slightly, and he involuntarily bucked his hips upwards slightly in response.

“do you….do you want to go to the bedroom? or stay here?” he asked, quickly loosing his composure as you continued to move yourself against him.

“bedroom?” you said, but you honestly didn’t care; you just wanted him, it didn’t matter where. lifting you slightly as you stood, ethan leaned down to kiss you now that you were both standing. his hands still on your hips, he guided you towards his room, his lips never leaving yours as you tried not to fall while walking backwards through the doorway.

ethan gently laid you down on the bed, grabbing something from his dresser drawer before crawling on top of you and gently kissing your forehead. his fingers traced your face from your temple down to your chin, and he tilted your lips upwards to meet his again. you arched your back, lifting your hips to meet his and he moaned, allowing you to slide your tongue into his mouth. your hands slid under his shirt, silently requesting it be removed and he got the hint, pulling away and sitting up slightly to pull it over his head, messing up his hair slightly in the process. you took the opportunity to undo his belt buckle, before his fingers found yours and took over, removing the belt completely.

“can i..?” he asked, waiting for your permission as his hands found the hem of your shirt. you nodded, and lifted yourself upwards to make it easier to remove. removing your remaining articles of clothing, you were both naked in front of each other for the first time, but there wasn’t any time for feeling self conscious or nervous as ethan kissed you again, and your hands traveled down to stroke his length gently. he moaned into the kiss, before burying his face in the crook of your neck as you began to move your hand back and forth. he whimpered as you ran your thumb gently over the tip, and he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

“you sound so pretty, baby.” you cooed in his ear, and he bucked his hips into your hand at your voice.

“please…god you look good like this- underneath me,” he mused, and you smiled. “slow down,” he instructed, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop your movements. “i wanna be inside you.” you nodded, and he grabbed a small packet from next to him on the bed, opening it and letting you help him slide the rubber onto himself.

“ethan-“ you moaned, as you felt him position himself at your entrance.

“are you sure?” he asked, and pushed himself into you after hearing you reply yes. you both moaned as the feeling of his movements sent shockwaves through your bodies. he waited while you adjusted, pressing his forehead to yours until you gave him the okay to move. starting off with slow thrusts, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to yours again. he began to quicken his pace and you tugged harshly at his curls in response.

“do that again-“ he inhaled sharply as you obliged, pulling his hair as he thrusted harder into you. “fuck, you feel so good,” he whined. “i’m gonna flip us over, okay baby?” you nodded, and ethan rolled over, now sitting on the bed with you in his lap, your legs around his waist, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you than before. your eyes rolled back in your head and he held you close, his large hands roaming your back.

“ethan… fuck-“ you had trouble forming words, you eyes glossy as you and ethan looked at eachother. he rested his forehead against yours again as he thrusted upwards into you, his rhythm becoming sloppier as he neared his peak.

“you’re being so good for me,” ethan whispered, and you rolled your hips against his, causing him to swear under his breath.

“i’m so close, e,” you whimpered, so near to the edge that you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on. “tell me i’m yours.”

“your mine,” ethan almost growled, and his movements stuttered as you tumbled over the edge, contracting around his length as he frantically slammed into you.

“fuck, i’m never gonna get over you,” he whimpered in your ear, the feeling of him inside you getting to be too much.

“come on, baby, i wanna hear you when you come,” you pleaded, tugging on his hair harder than before, and he moaned loudly, shaking as he finished inside you, his warmth spilling into the condom as you moved your hips to coax him through it. you were beginning to feel a little overstimulated, and tears began to form in your eyes as he slowed his hips before stopping his movements completely. collapsing gently on the bed, ethan carefully pulled out of you, removing the condom and disposing of it before getting a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

you lay in bed next to him, his eyes closed as he lay facing you, his curls messy and damp with sweat as you gently brushed them off his forehead with your fingers. his eyes were closed, a light blush in his cheeks and a soft smile on his lips. his brown eyes opened slightly, and his hand reached up to gently caress your cheek. you leaned forward to kiss him and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“we should’ve done that a long time ago,” you admitted, your fingers crawling up his skin to gently trace the shape of the dark purple hickeys you’d left on his neck and collarbones.

“yeah- we should’ve. but we can do it a lot more times,” he said, laughing lightly, his voice deep with drowsiness. “i like you here like this. in my bed.”

“i like being here; with you,” you replied, relaxing into ethan’s embrace and closing your eyes. with a final kiss to your forehead, you drifted off to sleep, and ethan followed shortly after, safe and warm in each others arms, where you belonged.

[tinandabin]

Sagau but the reader is the ACTUAL creator part 3

Part 2 part 4

ngl, I was kind of scared to post this cause there were so many people to tag 😭😭

____

It's been what? 2 days? A week? Or perhaps a month without seeing you. The Vision Hunt Decree got stricter, they now used more violent methods to seize the vision under Ei's command. Ei hasn't left Plane Of Euthymia ever since she last heard your voice, all she does is meditate and drown herself in her sorrow.

Morax isolated himself, busying himself in the Wangshen Funeral Parlour, it is rare to see him even talk about Osmanthus wine now. He's trying his best to not think of you, but his mind just can't help but wander to your lovely face.

All Barbatos does is spend his time away at the tavern, drinking away till he no longer can. Drinking as much as he can so he can forget about his miserable life without you.

Oh, how long till they get to see you? Are you really doing all this for a mere mortal? Are they of such value to you? Would you place a mortal above them, your devoted acolytes? This is too cruel for their poor souls, they rather would die a hundred times, no, a thousand times than spend another second without seeing you. They can't live like this. They need you.

_____

"Um-uh, Your Grace, I was wondering if we could go to..Liyue? I would like to sight-see, if that is okay with you," The girl, whose name you found out is Revelyn, asked.

You found out that Revelyn doesn't really have any family, if she did then you would have returned her there. However, she grew up in an orphanage and then was left to fend for herself when she was old enough. You had even initiated the idea of her returning to the mortal realm, but she says she is too scared, for everyone probably hates her, I mean, they took their Divine Creator's attention away from them.

"Hesitate not dear, Seraphina will escort you," You replied, reading some documents and quickly filling out some slots.

Revelyn's body tensed up as she responded swiftly, "I was wondering whether you could come with me!" She ended with a loud huff, both of you surprised at her outburst.

"Oh, I do apologise; however I do not seem to have any free time today," You glanced at your clock and started to skim over the documents again.

"..I see, that's fine. We can go another day," Revelyn slowly got up and took her leave from your office.

Just as you were about to get up, you saw a letter settled neatly upon your desk. Opening it, you read it.

“Hello, Your Divinity, how are you? It has been quite a long time since I last saw you. You make me worried sick, I will not lie.

As for why I am contacting you, ever since you declared the punishment of the archons, Ei hasn't come out of Plane Of Euthymia and it looks like she is slipping into insanity.

As her familiar, it is my duty to make sure she is in her best state, no? I was perhaps hoping for you to end her punishment and we could also have some tea together.

Your Dearest,

Yae Miko ♡. ”

You settled the letter on a stack of books and smiled to yourself, noticing Yae Miko's little attempt to spend time with you. Oh well, you might as well amuse yourself.

That reminds you, didn't Revelyn want to go to Liyue? Let's hope she is fine heading to Inazuma. Inazuma sure is a beautiful place on its own, dangerous nonetheless.

Perhaps you have been too cruel on your acolytes? Ah, let's hope they learnt their lesson.

____

taglist: @shizunxie @dearloonies @iruiji @yani-dere @kiraisastay @fauxizs @salvationprodigy @thetruepair @lunalily19

do y'all like revelyn? I feel like making her the enemy somewhat. the archons vs revelyn who will win.

Masterlist

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

“Let’s stack up a thousand todays. Together”

How many times have I watched this???? And I’m STILL CRYING

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: i got given a vinyl of go your own way/silver springs last week by my mum that she bought when she was younger, so i've been playing it time and time again and it bled onto this chapter.

masterlist

i know i could've loved you but you would not let me.

Bucky knew Y/N was upset. That's all he knew. He knew she'd come from her date and ever since she'd been quiet as a mouse and that was something considering Y/N gave her opinion anytime the opportunity presented itself. He'd even change the order her mugs in, to see if she would say something, instead she just grabbed a mug and went upstairs to her room whenever he was home to watch Sadie. If he was looking after Sadie, then Y/N would not be found for long stretches of time, instead looked into her bedroom with note and after note typing aggressively - a routine which made Bucky thankful he'd never pursued a PhD or anything other than a bachelors. He'd started to leave little snacks around her room whenever she went out, a pack of Oreos stashed in her nightstand, dehydrated mango slices from the brand she liked on top of her computer, little pots of coconut yoghurt. He knew she was always in that bedroom and he also knew she wouldn't come out no matter if it was breakfast, lunch or dinner.

He was sure there was only one person to blame - Christopher. Sure, Y/N and Bucky fought about it before she went on her date, they always did, but it never resulted in her becoming a hermit, locked in her room. As such, Chris was now enemy number one and Bucky was sure if HR discovered, he would get in trouble. He wasn't making the kid's life too hard, he was just making him work nights and overtimes and weekends. He'd also sent Chris on a coffee run. Yet Y/N continued in her little cocoon of sadness and tonight was no difference. Bucky had ordered Italian in and ended up the evening watching Beauty and the Beast with Sadie. The redhead had fallen asleep at the midpoint and as Bucky was ready to call it a night, he heard the soft steps of Y/N's coming down the stairs, holding a stack of plates and mugs. She was in her little white vintage chenille robe embroidered with blue and pink flowers, her hair up with a way too big claw clip and white fuzzy socks. If Bucky wasn't worried about her, he'd be wondering about what was under her robe.

      - You want some Italian? - Bucky got up to follow her from the kitchen. - I got some of that weird spinach pasta you like. Extra mozzarella balls just as you like.

      - No. - she placed the plates in the sink, starting to wash them with the cranberry dish soap that she always bought the moment the first autumn leaf fell.

      - You didn't come up of your little cocoon today. You know, the cleaning maid is wondering if I'm cutting your pay since you're keeping one bedroom and one bathroom hostage.

      - I can move to the guest bedroom. - she moved to grab a plate but the slippery porcelain slipped, crashing into a thousand bits to the ground. She sighed, her lip quivering and almost as if by seconds, she started crying.

Y/N went down to her knees, grabbing at the pieces of porcelain and shards, as if pushing them together would bring it back.

      - Y/N, shit, darling ... - he went back to his knees to put his hands on her arms to pull her up. - It's ok, don't pick them up, you'll get hurt.

      - I'm sorry. - she sniffled, her hands attempting to go and rub her eyes but Bucky stopped them in case she had little shards of porcelain stuck to her palms. - I'll clean it up, I promise.

      - It's fine. - Bucky kicked the big shards away. - What's wrong, Y/N? Is it Chris? Did he hurt you?

      - I'm gonna fail my viva. - she sniffled once more. - And I'm gonna have to go back to Ohio and I'm not made to live in Ohio.

      - Why would you go back to Ohio?

      - My parents bought a farm there after retiring. I am not Ohio farm material, Bucky. I'm afraid of horses.

      - Why would you even fail your viva? You're a smart woman, you're at a good university, you are okay. - Bucky wrapped his arms around her. - Probably not for long if you keep not eating. Go seat and I'll get you your disgusting pasta.

      - It is not disgusting. - Y/N rolled her eyes before making her way to the table. - Buck? Can I become your secretary if I fail my viva?

      - No. Your skirts aren't as short as I'd like. - he joked, bringing her pasta in a plate and pushing it towards her. - You're too fucking smart to be my secretary, if you were in my company you'd be CEO or something.

      - I worked my entire life for this. - she toyed around with her food, looking up with eyes still wet. - You know? I didn't come from legacy families or families who could actually afford to send me to college, I worked my ass off because I thought if I did I'd get somewhere. I'd be someone, I wouldn't have to count my pennies, I would be respected. Instead, everyone thinks I'm a joke on track to become your unfuckable housewife.

      - Now c'mon, if you do become my housewife, I would fuck you at least once a night. - he joked trying to lighten the mood but Y/N merely deadpanned at him. - Twice actually. You have a nice ass.

      - Not helping.

      - Because you're being ridiculous. You wanna know the reason I hired you? You had zero experience but you were smart and you were fiery and independent and I wanted my daughter to be like that.

      - You're just saying that because you're tired of bathing, Sadie.

      - I'm saying that because you're a great student and you're a smart woman. Besides, if they fail you, we'll just have to bribe the university. We'll donate a building for you.

      - You're not funny. - she swallowed in a giggle before taking the first forkful of pasta.

      - No, really, we'll get you a building. - he moved to seat next to her. - Maybe an astronomy one.

      - How swell.

      - I mean, maybe an astronomy building will be too much. Maybe a farming one.

      - God, I'm never telling you anything ever again. - she took another forkful of food. Bucky was glad he'd distracted her enough where she was eating, genuinely eating. - How's Sadie?

      - Sadie is doing well. She's supposed to go back to kindie next week but I was taking of taking her to the office for a bit. You know? I don't trust the roudy kids.

      - It's a private kindergarten. The senator's grandchild goes there, Bucky. I doubt they have their own fight club.

      - Have you ever seen a bunch of 2 year olds? They're terrifying and Sadie is a sensitive baby.

      - So you'll take her to a corporate office?

      - It's gonna be her company one day. Start them young. - he joked once more. - You want some ice cream? I tried to look for one that would be suitable for 2 year olds but then I came home and goggle it and they said I should blend frozen bananas instead.

Truth was, he'd bought a bunch of flavours thinking one would be Y/N's favourite and would entice her to eat something. That had ended up with him holding over 10 flavours of ice cream in his freezer. He came back with a selection of flavours he thought he wanted in a nice little dish. Y/N always liked nice little dishes.

      - Maybe I just don't belong, you know? - Y/N sighed. - In academic research. Most people come from well off families or are really smart, I'm just ...

      - You're just you. - Bucky said, leaning his chin on his hand to stare at her.

      - Yeah. I'm just me. Plain, old, me. Daughter of working class parents, me. Mediocre grade at masters, me. - she sighed once more, looking at the melting ice cream. - I can't even keep a relationship from falling apart.

      - Chris broke up with you?

      - I am not dating Chris so he can't technically break up with me. Besides, it wasn't like it would actually work.

      - I'm sorry.

      - No, you're not. - she looked at him, cocking her head to the side. - You'll probably be dancing in the grave of my situationship.

      - I don't dance, Y/N. I'm a respectable man. - he once again tried to make light of the situation. - What happened?

      - Guess I'm not suitable or good enough or don't do enough. One of the three. Whatever. - she chuckled dryly. - It was nice to have someone like me even if the me they liked was someone I'm not.

      - You act as if other people don't like you.

      - It's not that they don't like me but they also don't like me. You know what I mean? They put up with me, they are alright with me, they are cordial but they don't like me. They don't tolerate me.

      - I like you. - those words flew out of his lips like it was the most natural thing for him to say. As if he were stating an irrefutable fact like the sky looks blue or the Earth is round. - I like you. Just the way you are.

Y/N's lips parted as she waited for something to compliment the sentence. I like you just the way you are but less difficult, I like you just the way you are but prettier, I like you just the way you are but less argumentative, I like you just the way you are but as a friend. Yet those words never came and she found herself instead staring at the man in front of her, staring into those blue eyes like some sailor drawn to the sea.

      - Daddy? - Bucky recognised his daughter's voice. Bad timing, bad, bad timing.

      - Hey bug. - Y/N got up from her chair and walked up to the 2 year old, kneeling down to her level. - Are you alright?

      - Nightmare.

      - Aw that's awful, bug. I'll go and tuck you in and stay there while you fall asleep. Sounds good?

(...)

      - I'm telling you, Steve. I fucked up.

      - When you said we needed to have an urgent meeting, I didn't think this would be it.

Bucky had called Steve in London, the meeting screen showing Steve in his office. Yet, instead of one of their regular meetings to check with the state of the London office, it was Bucky talking to Steve. He'd fucked up, he'd fucked up badly and he'd only realise he'd fucked up once he woke up this morning and Y/N had left, leaving a note merely saying she had gone down to Ohio to be with her parents for a bit.

      - You just said you liked her, so what? At least you didn't tell her you loved her. It could have been interpreted differently.

      - You don't understand, Steve. I told her I liked her just the way she is.

      - Alright, Mark Darcy, pipe down. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, Y/N wants to go see her parents because she hasn't seen them in ages? Maybe because she's upset and wants to be with her mum and dad?

      - I'm telling you, she's gonna quit.

      - She's not gonna quit, Barnes. She likes Sadie too much, besides, isn't she with Chris Davis anyway? - Steve leaned against his chair, staring at Bucky through his screen. - Just relax.

(...)

A week had gone by and Y/N woke up with the sun shinning on her face. Being here was different than being in New York, it was quieter, calmer and all the sounds she could hear were the wind and the animals allowed close enough to the main house. This wasn't her childhood home, her parents had bought it yet it was comfortable. The furniture was the same and the feeling of her home was still available, it made her calm. Things were ... too much right now and she needed to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

She moved herself to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea and seating on the wooden chair with her feet on top of the seat. Her mother walked into the kitchen a few moments later, kissing the top of her head before sitting down next to her daughter.

      - Do you want me to make you some eggs, shortcake?

      - I'm okay, mum. - she smiled at her mother. - Where's dad?

      - I sent him out to get some groceries. I wanted to talk to you alone.

      - That's never good.

      - Shortcake, I love having you here. You're my only daughter and I love it when you come to visit but it feels like you're running away.

      - I'm not running away, mum. I just came to visit.

      - When you're 3 days away from defending your thesis? In the middle of the night? I've known you for 27 years, shortcake. You're not visiting, you're running.

      - I'm failing. - she sighed, with a scared laugh. - I've looked through my papers time and time again and in 3 days I'll make a fool of myself.

      - Y/N, c'mon. - her mother put her hand on her shoulder. - You said that about your undergraduate and your masters. You've never actually came to me and told me something is going well academically.

      - This is different. I've invested almost four years of my life into this and I'm just so tired. The thought of failing is just ... terrifying.

      - You've always doubted yourself, always put so much weight onto your own shoulders. You don't need to be the best, Y/N. You don't need to impress us or make us proud, we've been proud and impressed by you since the moment you were born. Running away here is not gonna solve how you feel and you, Y/N, have never been a quitter. - her mother caressed her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. - You gave it your best, that's all you can do.

      - There's more. - since she was airing out things, maybe she should talk about this. It wasn't like she could talk to her friends, she didn't have many and she couldn't talk to her colleagues about it either. - There's this guy.

      - Christopher?

      - Not Christopher. Another guy ... He told me he liked me and it just ... it freaked me out.

      - Do you like him?

      - I ... I don't actually know. I, I never really allowed myself to think of him like that. He's different.

      - How different?

      - I never considered ending up with someone like him, you know? He's not what I'd envision ever but he feels, he feels like the only person who seems me. He seems me not postdoctoral student Y/N, not who I may be if I succeed or if I fail. Just me.

      - Then what is the problem?

      - I think he also doesn't consider himself ending up with someone like me. I think .... I think I could love him but he would never let me because I'm not the ending that he pictured. I'm just not the one.

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @chipilerendi @kandis-mom @belennasif @abitofblues @buckybarnessimpp

[tiajk]

Little Miss Hamilton(I think i’m actually hilarious)

Masterlist

Warnings: reader is seen as the Hamilton of the crew, reader is implied to have powers but not have eaten devil fruit, Poc reader implied (brown skin, curly hair ), It’s a platonic mostly (hint of zosan x reader not a hint it’s plain a day), Cursing, pre time skip im mind, Best friends Nami & Ussop (such an underrated duo), Mostly the Anime in mind when writing this, no use of name or y/n, grammar errors (i js know there are)

A/n: Told you guys another fic would be out today (I love Hamilton) (if you watch Hamilton what’s your favorite song(s) mines are satisfied & Non-stop), you guys i wrote this with the worst stomach pain im gonna fucking die

Dividers from ; @y-yushin & @anitalenia

—It almost felt like a reward every single piece of it. Starting with the fact you were apart of the straw hat pirate crew. Luffy claimed that you were all the best including you. most of the time dismissing him with a smile and a small “thank you!!” Then going back to your books and writings. thinking back to the fights you’ve been though you were grateful for having your powers what was more important was knowledge knowing every single piece of information that you found valuable was important to you and you would do anything to obtain it. Even if that included staying up late at night sleeping all during the day which at first no one thought was odd just assuming you were like Zoro. At night was when you did your true calling the most knowledge obtained from the Stars making charts, maps, and hypothesis’s about the moon and why does it change every single night. Mind running through thousands of ideas on how. Most of the time you would ire yourself out so much that you would fall asleep on deck but someone would always awake in the night to check most of the time it was Sanji and Zoro. Whenever Zoro found you he would grumble stings of curses out of his mouth when he saw you. He didn’t understand why you would leave yourself out in the open just to get more information about the stars but he would rather die then let you sit out in the cold. Sanji was the same way he would find you most of the time after Luffy tries to sneak into the fridge and he can’t go back to sleep. Tonight is no different from the rest your slumped on the deck your book is closed secure so the wind wont open it with little bits of pages sticking out of it your notebook stacked on top as well. Sanji & Zoro both cant sleep tonight instead of arguing with each other the just drink and get to know each other better. Surprisingly there laughing together playfully bantering each other when Sanji’s expression changes and goes outside Zoro doesn’t know what he’s doing at first but then it clicks in his head you were probably asleep on the deck again. He follows Sanji out the kitchen door seeing Sanji picking you up bridal style already you look peaceful its like your boy knows that Sanji’s got you and that your safe. While he’s climbing up the stars when he passes zoro he stops “Can you get her books I would usually would get them but your here to help me this time”. He wants to roll his eyes but he can’t and for once he just listen maybe it’s the alcohol flowing through his system or maybe he knows how important your books are to you it’s your dream. During the day most of the time nami watched over you she would distract from your books claiming how you both needed a break. Dragging Ussop(he wanted to go) as you guys al go shopping and play a little dress up. By you guys its mostly nami and ussop finding clothes to give you and you to try on while they give you there opinions (Ussop has good fashion taste cant change my mind (u prob could but pls don’t). Nami Had this beautiful Long body con dress the base of the dress was a peachy pink with coral all over it the coral being in all different shapes the colors being blue, purple and ifferent shades of pink as well. “Go try it on it’s gorgeous and goes perfect with your skin tone ” taking the fabric from her hands you go to the dresseing room sort of excited to try it on. when you finished putting you examined your self in the mirror in the dressing room it was the perfect length on the floor but not enough to drag on your feet to annoy you but it hugged everywhere and it just felt perfect you didn’t really care if you have to go into debt for nami to buy this dress it would be worth it. While opening the door holding your hair in a low pony with no ponytail holder some curly staying in the front. Nami and Ussop mouth dropped to the floor when they saw you “What is it bad” you confidence going down slowly but it accelerates when nami says “It’s perfect on you we have to buy it it was literally made for you” you smile at her thanking her for the compliment “I agree it’s an amazing dress for you”.

—When going back in the dressing room as you put your other clothes on thinking what would Zoro and Sanji think about the dress you shiver at the thought of the reaction and shake it from your mind. When you guys head back to the ship it’s not loud and that worries you automatically as you speed up your pace to the going merry. Going to the kitchen is ur first stop and it was correct. You see Luffy, Sanji and Zoro all cooped up around something but you don’t know what “HMH” clearing your throat to get their attention. The all look in shock not expecting you to be there. Luffy hides the object behind his back “We thought you guys were still shopping?” “Well we're back now” You look at all three of the they seem nervous. Luffy is sweating hard “What do you have behind your back Luffy?” “Nothing” You don’t believe him so you place the shopping back on the counter and sit at the table with them “What’s the problem guys you seem nervous did i do something wrong?” They all looked at each other silently communicating “No we just don’t want you to get mad at us” it was really confusing why would you get mad? “I won’t promise” Luffy looks at you one more time just to make sure he brings the object in front of him and on the table it’s your book your book with everything in it. Part of you wants to get mad but you don’t “where did you find this?” “It was on the table fore you left I saw it and wondered what it was about didn’t know it was yours” Zoro states with his harms crossed looking at you “It’s okay but are any of the pages missing” you say examining every page that you could get your hands on slightly worried that some valuable information could be missing “No I made sure that nothing happened to it” Sanji blows the smoke out of his mouth “What happened?” Nami ask as she enters the room “Nothing just my books” Ussop comes behind you one of your books was open and he’s peeking at it over your shoulder “woah you wrote all of this?” you honestly didn’t think that it was a lot not enough knowledge so it wasn’t a lot. Nami comes and looks as well “Wow it really is a lot is that why your always up at night writing?” You start to feel a little bit on the spot which it doesn’t really matter that its you its just the subject “Yea but I could write more i dont feel like it’s enough” Zoro thinks to himself ‘what will be enough for her’ “Why it’s it not enough you write like your running out of time”…………

Part 2 coming soon ( i couldn’t finish my stomach hurts and it feels like i have the throw up)(update i threw up and i’m sick ass hell)

[mxigo]

soul sick | part 2

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: lucien pays you a visit to ask a favor, and things come to a head with azriel

WARNINGS: angst, swearing, graphic descriptions of vomiting

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: FINALLY. oh my god i finally figured it out and was able get the plot done and chugged through the angst. as usual, please let me know if there are any errors. enjoy!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

Your mood improved ten-fold after having lunch with Cassian and Mor. They did everything they could to get you to forget your miserable night, and they did for the most part. Although, they caught you staring off into space once or twice, and they knew you were trying to understand where you went wrong with your relationship with the Spymaster.

The remainder of the walk consisted of the three of you talking about senseless things until they each give you a hug before they leave, Mor winnowing out of the street with a pop.

When you walk through the door, you can’t help but sigh, letting the rest of the tension fall off your shoulders. Blessed relief floods through you as you shuck your shoes off in your room near the wardrobe’s door, pushing past clothes to find a sleep set to wear.

You throw your hair up out of your face, padding into your bathroom to wash your face of the little makeup you did wear today. It doesn’t matter that the sun had just set behind the horizon. Once your pajamas were on and you took off your face, you were not stepping foot outside again today, and you planned on shutting yourself in your study to continue your work for the priestesses.

While you were not a priestess, you feel at home in the library in the House of Wind, and you loved helping them with rewriting and translating anything new or old for them. Before you had friends of your own, you had books and the stories that they told. And although you have made some friends throughout your life, your love for books has never waned.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of rosé before making your way to your study, letting the door close behind you with a soft snick. The entire room is lined with shelves upon shelves of books of just about every genre of fiction and nonfiction, organized carefully so that you know where every book was right off the top of your head. Cassian likes to poke fun at you and call you anal, but it literally drives you crazy if a book is put back in the wrong spot and then you can’t find it the next time you need it.

The dark mahogany shelves exude warmth throughout the room, pairing perfectly with the desk of the same material, gifted to you from Rhys when you bought the townhouse. This place is your safe place and has a perfect view of the dazzling lights of Velaris at night through the double glass doors leading to a balcony.

The hardwood floors are cool beneath your feet as you walk over to the desk, sending chills up your spine. You grab a blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders before settling into the comfortable chair. The stack of books that you need to work on is tall, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The first book is thousands of years old and seems to be a second edition one as well. The spine is nearly falling apart, holding together by sheer will alone, like merely touching it could make it disintegrate into dust. Dust and dirt is caked into the scratches and grooves of the cover, but you can still make out the title. Orys: Prythian’s Fourth High Lord of the Night Court. A smile tugs at your lips. You’re almost excited to read about one of Rhysand’s distant relatives.

A sharp knock at your door interrupts you, pulling an annoyed sigh from you. You grab a sweater to throw on before you walk down the hall to the door, praying that it’s not Azriel. You just don’t have the strength to talk to him about last night just yet.

But you’re surprised to see Lucien at your door instead of the shadowsinger.

“Lucien? To what do I owe the pleasure,” you ask, completely taken aback.

He is noticeably distraught, his hair looking like it needs to be washed along with forming dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he has not had a good sleep in a few nights.

“I—I need some help.”

For a moment, you are speechless. There could only be one thing that he would need help with, and you are a bit afraid to confront it.

“I just opened a bottle of rosé from my favorite winery on the Sidra. Would you like a glass while we talk,” you try, earning a nod from the lordling in response.

You stand back, opening the door wider for him to step into your home, suddenly self-conscious about how you are dressed in the presence of a male that you hardly know. You wrap your sweater around you a little bit tighter at the realization.

Lucien follows you into the kitchen where you left the bottle, telling him to get comfortable while you go to retrieve your glass where you left it on your desk. When you return, Lucien is staring off at the table, a pained expression shrouding his face. His hands are curled around each other, supporting his head as they rest under his chin. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the counter where the bottle sits and pour a generous glass for your guest before settling across from him, tucking a leg under yourself.

Neither of you speak first, and you wait so Lucien has the time to gather his thoughts and think about what he might say. After a moment, he finally unfurls his hands to rest them in his lap.

“I fear that I may be losing my mate to the shadowsinger.”

Oh dear gods. Your heart aches for the male in front of you, suddenly understanding his pain, and feeling your own at the same time. You wet your lips, shifting as you try to come up with something to say, but you suddenly feel sick, and your heart is beating too loud to hear anything.

“Could it be possible that their relationship is just platonic,” you ask, your voice airy.

You take a long draw from your glass, watching as Lucien shakes his head, finally looking up at you, and his golden eyes find your own.

“No. I catch glimpses of her emotions and feelings occasionally, especially when they’re together. It’s not platonic.”

Your eyes fall shut, attempting not to panic at the thought that Azriel might share the same feelings for the Archeron sister.

“I’m sorry this is happening. I can’t imagine the pain that you might be feeling.”

“But I think you can.” Your eyes snap open, freezing on him.

“What?”

“You have feelings for Azriel, do you not?” His straightforwardness makes your mouth drop open.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are quite obvious about it. It’s puzzling that he hasn’t caught on yet,” Lucien says, leaning back in the chair and taking a sip from his glass.

Your face burns, undoubtedly red. This time, you take a gulp of the wine.

“I’m hoping because of it, you can try to persuade him to turn his efforts elsewhere, perhaps yourself.”

“Lucien, I understand you are upset, and rightfully so, but I think you should talk to Elain, not me.” You shake your head, unbelieving of what he is asking of you.

“Then try to talk to Azriel and explain what he is doing, even if he doesn’t realize it,” he fights, his desperation seeping through. “He is taking what is supposed to be my moments with her.”

Neither of you speak, the tension having peaked.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much,” he whispers, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s ok. I’ll try to talk to him the next time I see him. Although, we’re not really on good terms right now.”

“For the same reason?” You nod.

“Hm. Well, thank you for listening to me, but I should get going. Mother knows that Rhysand will start to wonder where I slinked off to.” He stands, knocking back the rest of the rosé. “Thank you for the drink. You have lovely taste,” he adds with a smile, which you return.

“You’re welcome, Lucien. My door is open whenever you need me.”

He nods once before winnowing out of the house, leaving you to think about his proposal.

Just the very thought of talking to Azriel about relationship with Elain makes your stomach roll, and there is a very good chance that Azriel won’t take your advice the right way either. Historically, he is not one for getting over someone that he cannot have.

A knock from behind you makes you jump, nearly screaming when you see a shadowed figure outside your home, but you sigh when you see a pair of great leathery wings. Your heart thunders in your ears as you try to decide whether to go out and talk to him or ignore him and send him away. You decide on the former.

Taking a blanket from the living room, you walk out the door and onto the patio, allowing yourself to lean against the wall. The night has quickly turned brisk, a sharp wind ripping through the balcony, and you pull your blanket tighter. It’s silent for a moment, waiting for him to speak first.

He is dressed casually tonight, the swirls of his tattoos spilling from underneath the hem of his short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of pants loose around his thighs. Not that you’re looking.

But as you look to meet his eyes, you blink in surprise at their seriousness, staring at you with a look that you can only describe as distraught.

“Why was Lucien here?”

You blink again, not quite sure of what you heard.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did Lucien come to you at this time of day?”

“What? Can a friend not come for a visit?” you ask defensively, crossing your arms.

“We both know that he’s not a friend, Y/N. There’s a reason that he came here, and I need to know what it was.”

You stare at him, mouth agape in disbelief. Is this really happening right now?

“He came to me for help.”

“Help for what?”

You take a breath. “Az, I think you should take a step back from Elain for a while.”

His face screws up instantly, offended by what you have said.

“Is that what he came here for? Because he’s jealous?”

“Azriel, think about what you are doing. Regardless of what the two of you think, there is a reason they are mates.”

A feeling of unease is palpable from him as he switches his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“You know that Rhys’ parents were mates and look how that turned out.”

“But Lucien is not Rhys’ father, Az. He is so far from that, or Feyre wouldn’t have brought her with him to Velaris. He is a good male, and you are actively standing in the way of their relationship.”

Azriel’s mouth is agape, at a loss for words, but he quickly turns to gather himself.

“I’m just trying to help her assimilate into our life, Y/N. She lost a lot when she was Made, and I’m helping her understand that there’s a whole new world that she can explore now.”

A weightless feeling begins to overshadow you, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth.

“That is Feyre’s job as her sister to do that. She is also mated to someone that happens to be living with us and is dying to get to know her, Az, and you’re taking that away from him and stealing those moments that are meant for him for yourself.”

Azriel scoffs, his gaze sour.

“A mate that had a hand in having her kidnapped from her home. Of course she doesn’t want anything to do with him, Y/N, and she doesn’t have to.”

Silence stretches between the both of you as you allow the gravity of his words sink in, a cold terror gripping you.

With a blank face, you ask, “what do you mean by that?”

He just shakes his head, letting his wings unfurl. In a desperate attempt to get him to stay, you grab his hand, and your eyes meet once again. Then, suddenly, you feel it. You feel the bond snap into place as your soul realizes that male in front of you is your mate, and your heart breaks for the second time tonight. Your eyes go wide, breath catching in your throat as your skin erupts into chills. Hope fills you as you wait for any recognition from him, but there’s nothing, only his face screwing up.

He shrugs your hand off, just as you did to him. Your heart is thundering in your ears, and you struggle to figure out what to do next over the onslaught of emotions, both yours and glimpses of Azriel’s.

“Az, wait—”

“I love her, Y/N.”

Everything goes numb, your hearing cutting out. There is no possible way you heard him right. He can’t be in love with her because he’s your mate, it can’t be right.

You must look pitiful, staring unbelieving at him, waiting for him to say something different, but he only looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says before launching off of the patio and into the sky, disappearing into a black spec in the night, leaving you alone to unravel the fresh bond that will never be returned.

†

Sleep evaded you the entire night, having left you to your thoughts and to relive how your mate essentially rejected you without actually knowing what he was doing. All because you didn’t have the guts to tell him how you felt, and now he is no longer yours in any sense of the word. You had centuries to tell him but waited too long, and he took the opportunity that opened for him to have someone of his own, despite her already having a mate.

A headache sprung up as well, bursting right behind your eyes, throbbing with intensity. You haven’t had a headache spring up like this since before Rhys was Under the Mountain, but the stress of the past few days could definitely have caused it, especially from last night. The morning brings no relief, as you remain curled up in bed with the blinds pulled shut to prevent the harsh light from attacking your eyes. You managed to make yourself a cup of tea to sit on your bedside to drink, but you are so exhausted that you have not been able to muster the strength to sit up and drink it.

A groan slips from you as you roll over to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but as you do, your stomach turns, and your mouth suddenly fills with saliva. Eyes snapping open, you scramble up from your bed, bolting to the bathroom to make it to the toilet just in time for your stomach to reject everything that was in it. You grip onto the cool porcelain, choking on the painful onslaught. The rejection is so strong that after each contraction, you sag against the seat, heaving. Even after there is nothing left to come up, your body keeps rejecting, causing you to gag and cough until you are gasping for air like a fish out of water. After an eternity, your stomach finally lets you rest, allowing you to sag to the floor, sighing against the cool tile upon your flushed cheek.

This continues the entire day, waking for bouts of dry heaving until tears leak from your eyes, and your chin trembles as you fight back a sob. You have no clue as to what time it could be, surely deep into the day, but you are confined to the bathroom in fear that your stomach will revolt again. You finally submit to whatever has a hold of you, deciding that you will sleep in the bathroom, you carefully pull your duvet from your bed to drag it into the bathroom to have some kind of comfort on the hard tile floor. Finally, sleep peacefully takes you.

†

A soft touch pulls you from your dreamless sleep, your eyes peeling open to look blearily at whoever is kneeling in front of you. The headache persists, and the light causes you to clamp your eyes shut again, hissing at the light.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Cassian’s voice whispers in your ear. You nod but don’t open your eyes again.

“Rhys has been sending you notes all day inviting you to dinner, but you never answered them. Have you been here all day?” Another nod. “What has you so messed up, sweetheart?”

“I dunno. Just woke up like this. Can’t stop throwing up.” Your voice is scratchy from the abuse it has suffered, and it hurts to swallow. “Just put me in bed and set a bucket next to it. I wanna sleep.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the House?”

“No, no House. I’ll sleep it off. It’ll be fine, just stressed out,” you insist, still not opening your eyes.

Despite his better judgment, Cassian carries you back to bed, tucking you in and replacing your cup of tea with a glass of water and brings the bucket that you wanted. You haven’t moved from how he laid you in bed, and his eyebrows furrow in concern. It’s not often that fae get sick, especially with whatever you have.

He kneels next to the side of the bed you are on, letting a hand run itself over your head.

“I’m going to get going. If we don’t hear from you in a few hours, I’m bringing you to the House and we’ll get Madja. Do you understand?” Yet another nod.

Cassian sighs, registering that you have a slight fever. He stands up, leaning over to tuck you in before he leaves. With a last once over of your room and leaving a scrap of paper and a quill on your bedside, Cassian leaves.

He still doesn’t feel right about leaving you at your home, but he will be going back if you don’t write back within a few hours to check on you.

Everyone has moved to the sitting room by the time he gets back, each with a drink in hand. He notes that Elain is sitting in a chair next to Azriel but refrains from saying something. He settles into a seat next to Rhys, and Feyre notices that Cassian is back, but without her friend in tow.

“Did you see her?”

“Mhmm. She’s sick. Found her asleep on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet, all wrapped up in her sheets. She refused to be brought here, so I told her I would be back if we didn’t hear from her.”

“Oh Mother. We just saw her yesterday, Cas. How could she have gotten sick so quick?” Mor asks, face warped with concern as she leans forward.

“She said it’s from stress, but I don’t know how stress could make her throw up so much that she had to sleep on the bathroom floor,” he sighs.

Across the room, the Spymaster listens intently to Cassian’s words, his heart dropping as he realizes that he is the “stress” that has physically manifested as a sickness.

TAGLIST: @positivewitch @brekkershadowsinger @baebeepeach @toobsessedsstuff @lucyysthings @marigold-morelli

[mossyivy]

NSFW Under the Cut (Bubs is a nickname btw)

A/N: If you saw the first post of this, no you didn't.

Imagine Himbo!Chris as your manager

He's usually a strict manager, but he actually quite likes the newest hire Preppy! Reader. He even considers her a friend. Chris isn't the smartest guy around but what he lacks upstairs he makes up for in muscle. He's a massive guy, looks like a linebacker but hasn't touched a football since playing with his sister Claire in childhood. He's a little intimidating even if he doesn't mean to be.

You've been late to work twice this week because you slept late from studying too much the night before. Midterms are coming up and you're so stressed out everything feels like a thousand times harder to deal with. But, Chris has let you off the hook twice now and you know he's gonna say something today since it's your third time being late.

You walk through the front door, not seeing him in usually spot picking up the returns to put back in the system, maybe he's not in yet... Leon shoots you his usual dirty look behind the checkout but smirks afterwards. Watching you walk back towards the break room to clock in. Pushing the door open you see Chris leaning against the counter with his beefy arms crossed over his broad chest.

Fuck...

"You're late again," he starts gruffly, pressing off the lower cabinets to meet you at the time clock, "I called Leon to see if you were in yet and he told me you were late again."

Of course he would, fucking rat...

"I'm sorry, I overslept again... Midterms are-"

"A killer, I know. But if Leon and Ashley can both be on time, so can you." He takes in a deep breath, he must be actually upset with the lack of his usual kindness. It's kinda cute how much he's trying to fight back his irritation.

"Look, I like you, I really do. And I don't want to have to write you up... So you're staying late today. Putting away the new inventory with me after everyone else leaves." You open your lips to protest, raising his hand he stops you.

"Inventory or write up?" You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as his brows knit together, looking down at you. You actually liked this side of Chris?

"Inventory..." You mumble as he nods with a slight smirk.

"That's my girl."

Oh.

His boss demeanor drops immediately, patting you on the middle of your lower back as he passes by, making a tingle fly up your spine.

"I'll be doing returns if you need me."

The day drags, 6pm rolling around eventually. Jill staying behind for a bit as she looks over at you from the front door.

"Inventory, all alone with the boss. Sounds like a recipe for disaster," she smirks, leaning closer to you as you roll your eyes, "he's pretty hot, I wouldn't blame you. An that's coming from a Lesbian... And his best friend."

"It's not like that, Jill. He's punishing me." Jill visibly bites her lip, her labret piercing touching her front teeth as she raises her eyebrows.

"You're really not good at deterring me, Bubs..." You groan, she chuckles pulling her coat on.

"It's not... He has a policy about..." You really have no idea what to say, why would she even put that idea in your head? It's not like Chris would show any interest in his employees. He hasn't before at least. Jill's his friend since childhood and gay. Ashley barely just turned 19. And Leon... Is Leon.

Why would you be any different?

"Bye Bubs, have fun with Chris, but not too much fun." She teased, pressing the door open as you wave goodbye. You walk over, locking the door and shutting the neon sign off. Grabbing your coffee from the checkout you down it, throwing it in the trash behind the counter before heading back to the storage room.

Reaching the storage room you step inside, finding Chris stacking smaller boxes of kids books on the dolly. He lifts his head, turning as he dusts his hands off. He smiles at you, sweetly like he usually does. His dopey smile making your stomach do a flip, thinking back to what Jill said.

"Hey," he gestures to the dolly before looking back at you again, "kid section needs to be restocked, thought it would too heavy for you."

That was sweet of him, not wanting you to strain yourself. But of course not, that be making him short a much needed employee. At least that's what you say to your brain to stop wandering.

"Thanks Boss." You give a fake salute before grabbing your dolly and heading out to the kids section. Pushing past the small colorful tables and animal chairs you pull out your box cutter from your skirt pocket and rip the box open. Starting to place books in the younger side of the shelves you hear the door to storage open. Out walking Chris carrying two huge boxes on his shoulders, not breaking a sweat or skin red in the slightest.

"God damn..." You catch yourself mumbling, you know Chris was jacked but Jesus Christ. Two huge boxes into the fantasy section? Those books were usually thicker than your college textbooks. How much does this guy lift?! You blink, eyes burning with the realization you were staring at him. He's none the wiser, back turned towards you as he reaches up pushing the books onto the top shelf.

You continue putting books away, finishing with the toddler stuff and throw the box to the side, starting on the next one. You glance back over at Chris as he tossed his first box to the side. Watching him kick the box over to the next shelf, twirl his box cutter before ripping the tape off and back to work.

You crane your neck over the shelf watching his shirt ride up on him. Seeing the waistband of his boxers over his sweatpants that somehow fit to his ass perfectly. Calvin Klein printed in white over the black band, you'll have to say a prayer later to him for the blessing of the sight you get to see. Chris turns to the side, stretching his arms above his head, shirt riding up again. Tilting your head your see the tips of his V-line, the trail of hair leading to his navel and the curves of his bottom abs. Sculpted to literal perfection...

He has to be doing this on purpose now, right? Cause honestly if it was he was getting your engine to purr with very little effort. Honestly, it's kind of embarrassing. Did what Jill said affect you that much?

Although, Chris is the type of guy to be hit on constantly and barely notice. Just thinking people are being nice to him.

His head quickly juts towards you, quickly looking away you make it look like you were working and not planning what you were going to rub one out to later...

"Need help?" His deep voice fills the space as you give a quick no, squeakier then you had intended it to be. He chuckles, going back to work as you try fighting the heat rising in your neck.

You almost just got caught ogling your boss. Thank God Chris isn't the most perceptive guy around when it came to social awareness or that might have ended with a pink slip. You quickly finish up the kids books as Chris finishes the fantasy section. He looks back to you as he collects the boxes and smiles.

"Head over to the adult section. I'll grab the boxes."

Adult section... Right, you completely forgot Chris had been talking about turning his old office into the adult section after he took a corner of the break room to work in. You nod, heading over quickly as he grabs the dolly and walks off. Walking inside you look at the tall shelves lining the walls and the few tables already lined with books. Looking down at the table you read off a few of the titles in your head, one catching your eye in particular.

How to please your man like a pornstar.

A blunt and to the point title. At least you know what you're getting before you open the cover.

"So this is the kinda crap you like to read?" Chris enters the room with a soft 'tsk. Pushing in the dolly with a few large boxes and the creaky old wooden step stool on top.

"No, just being nosy."

"Mmhm, nosy," he teases, pushing the cart to the shelves. "sure you aren't trying to pick something out for your boyfriend I'm not supposed to know about?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." Chris looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a look like he doesn't believe you.

"Girlfriend? Talking to anyone?" He questions, you shake your head. You both start tearing open boxes and putting away books on shelves. The silence taking over for a few minutes as you ponder his questions.

"You think people like me that much?" You smirk, looking back over at him as he laughs.

"Figured a girl like you would have at least someone sniffing around. I mean... You even get Leon to turn his head once in a while and he's as responsive as wet bread to women."

A girl like you. What exactly does that mean?

"Ew, no. He's the worst and the last person I want looking at me. Besides, that be against the rules." His face shifts, looking confused for a minute.

"Rules?" You scrunch your nose up.

"No dating coworkers?"

"Oh! Yeah, that. No, my Dad wrote those rules and I just haven't had the heart to change the employee handbook after him and Mom died. I'd have to run it by Claire and..." His voice trails off for a few seconds, you getting the jist of it. He turns back to putting books away quietly.

"Still a sore subject for her?"

"Yeah." You nod, understanding the meaning behind it.

"So, you don't care?"

"As long as you assholes don't beat the customers, wear what little uniform you have and show up on time I don't care. It's not my business. Just don't let it affect your job."

Good to know.

You two work in silence for a long while. Eventually Chris pops the step stool open. Moving to put the more "extreme" books on high shelves in case stupid kids wander in unattended. Don't want a child being scarred, that's a lawsuit waiting to happen.

"Bubs." You snap your attention to him holding the stool. He sets it down next to you.

"Yes, Sir?" He blinks with a smirk, huffing for a moment.

"Don't ever call me that again," you giggle with a nod, "you mind doing the top shelves? I have a feeling this stool would snap under me if I even breathed near it."

"So you want me to file the Workman Comp case?" You joke, Chris squinting his big brown eyes for a second.

"You'll be fine, I'll be here to spot you and hand you books."

You agree, reluctantly. Stepping up to the top rung Chris starts handing you the first set of books, staring at you intently. It felt a lot different than a mindful stare, almost like he was watching you purposefully. Shifting back and forth in place every few minutes. Bouncing his legs. You knew he got bored easily but you've never seen him this jittery.

Oddly enough it didn't take long for you both to get to the last shelf, checking your watch to see it's nearly 8pm by now. Rolling your neck you climb back up on the stool, stepping onto the top plank.

Looking down you gesture for a book, Chris shuffles, turning away quickly and grabbing some books from the box, handing them up to you. He turns away, still standing behind you, a tad bit closer than before. Pushing the last book onto the shelf you look back at him as he keeps moving around.

"Are you okay? You seem antsy." He looks back at you, tanned skin a dusty rose color, he looks like he's contemplating what to say. Grabbing the last set of books and hands them up to you before he speaks.

"I'm fine," he insists, "just hot in here."

He clears his throat, pulling at his v-neck near his rose tattoo on his neck. You turn back to the shelf, putting the books away, leaning for the last one. The book slips from your hand hitting the floor as the stool starts to tilt to the side and you try gripping the shelf to stop from falling. Arms wrap around you as the stool topples over, lifting you from the fall. Toned arms around your waist, big hands flat against your belly as his hand accidentally went under your button up and his head in the middle of your back.

"Jesus Christ Bubs. Gave me a damn heart attack." Slowly his arms lower you to the floor, weirdly hunching to put you down. You feel embarrassed, bending over to grab the book as he grabs the stool. Your head turns, eyes shifting as he stands up straight. Your eyes making contact with the massive imprint in his sweatpants. Your jaw drops, turning away immediately.

Oh, oh God he's hard... Did I do that!? Has he been like that the entire time??

You shift and try your hardest to reach to put the book of the shelf. Even standing on your top toes. Chris comes up behind you, putting a hand on your hip, taking the book from you and stands on his own toes to reach. Sliding the book into place with ease. You feel him brush your other hip with his own.

Couldn't he have just done that the entire time?

You give him an odd look as he steps back, folding the stool up, and holding it in front of himself. Oblivious to the fact you already saw his hard on.

"That should be everything..." He takes a few steps back, you nod, quickly stepping past him.

"I'm gonna go grab my purse and head out." You move to head towards the break room when he grabs your shoulder, stopping you.

"Let me walk you to your car, it's dark out. I don't want you putting yourself at risk. Just, let me use the bathroom first."

Damn him and his kind nature...

You nod, following him to the break room and grab your bag as he slips into the employee bathroom.

Walking out of the back you stop at the front door, turning the overhead lights out. The only lights on being the dimly lit sconces along the walls. You start thinking about... Knowing what's probably happening in that bathroom right now. Your thoughts start drifting to the thought of his hand down his pants, trying desperately to stay quiet and get himself get some relief before facing you again.

Then Jill's words drift into your mind again.

He's pretty hot, I wouldn't blame you.

She's not wrong... Chris is hot. And obviously he thinks you are too if you're the cause of his big problem. Should you even be thinking this way? He's your boss. It be unprofessional and possibly really awkward if anything happened... Well more than what already did.

"Ready?" You turn seeing Chris carrying his coat over his arm, walking through the store.

"Yeah." You both step out of the store, stopping to watch Chris lock up. He smiles at you as you start walking towards your car. Quickly, he steps around you, walking along the street side.

It's not odd for Chris to be this sweet but this feels like he's trying to impress you almost.

"Such a gentleman." You smirk, crossing under a streetlight. He smiles wide, bumping your arm with his.

"Maybe if you're good I'll lay my coat across a puddle and you can walk over it."

Is he flirting with me?

You scoff, shaking your head.

"If I'm good? I'm a model employee, thank you."

"Expect for being 20 minutes late three times this week... Be grateful I like having you around." You feel your cheeks heat up as you both stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.

"Wow, you like having me around. What do you have a crush on me or something?" You joke, stepping off the sidewalk and into the double white lines. Chris staying on the curb for a few seconds before quickly catching up.

"What if I did?" He asks, turning his head to look at you as you two turn into the parking lot on the corner. Looking at him, his face is red. The look in his eyes says so much as you stop at the back of your car.

"Look," he stops, leaning against your bumper as you join him, "can I say something that we can... Both just look past if it gets awkward or weird?"

"As long as you're not about to tell me that you're stalking me or something." Chris shakes his head, smile faltering.

"I know I'm your boss and I shouldn't look at you like I do... But it's hard not to think you're really pretty and I want to take you out when I'm around you constantly. And if you don't feel that way we can pretend this never happened and I'll just walk away..."

He's even sweet when expecting rejection...

You just stare at him for a moment as he stands up quickly.

"Right. I'm sorry for saying anything." You reach out, grabbing his hand as you stand up.

"I'm not sure about my feelings but I know I'm attracted to you and you're really sweet. So, I wouldn't mind going on a date and seeing where this goes... I think I'd be a complete idiot for not at least trying with you." He sighs in relief, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles with a goofy smile.

"Tomorrow after work? A Movie and dinner?" He seems so eager, you snicker to yourself.

"Sounds great." You smile, moving in to give him a kiss on the cheek. His smile turns to a full blown grin, looking you up and down.

"Call me when you get home." He gives a fake salute as you turn back to unlock your car door. Looking back over your shoulder you see him exiting the parking lot to head back towards his apartment over the store. And as you climb in, pulling on the door to close it. You swear you hear a faint cheer of yes from the distance.

[brabblesblog]

Yes.

Part 11 (and final part) of the Goodnight Moon series.

Our happy ending is finally here! A little angst to add flavor but it’s also fluffy and happy!

Read on AO3.

Part 10

Masterlist.

What if you did the wrong thing?

You lie in your shared bed in the Elfsong Tavern, the night after finally defeating the elder brain. He’s beside you, meditating, but you haven’t been able to sleep. The night is peacefully quiet. You can only hear his breathing, soft and peaceful, and yours, which is beginning to speed up.

In that moment it felt like the right thing to do. It had always felt like the right thing to do. You couldn’t abide him ending more lives - seven thousand at that - only for a him to very likely lose himself.

For you to lose the man you love, you remind yourself. Selfish.

You had mostly felt assured in your actions that day, until this morning, when he ran from the group as the sun began to burn him. You had to take a moment before finding him - Karlach was dying, and you had to make sure she was alright before finding your partner. He had been alright, hidden in the shadow of crates stacked high. You had held him tight as you told him of what happened to Karlach, and it was him that comforted you, even as he seemed to need it more.

You had been able to cover him with your cloak, moving fast and slipping from shadow to shadow, until you made it to your room. You had promised him that you would try to find a cure together - and you would - but now those thoughts plague you. Had he ascended, this would not be a problem at all. Maybe he would have preferred whatever version of himself that came out at the other end of it. Maybe it was cruel of you to ask him not to turn.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm down. When that didn’t work, you finally get up and leave the room, heading downstairs. You find Gale and Shadowheart on a table and quickly join them. If they know you’re troubled they don’t show it - instead they talk about the final battle and their plans afterwards.

Gale extends an invitation to Waterdeep to both of you. He assures you that he will make sure to accommodate Astarion. You wince at the mention of his name, and Gale gives your hand a squeeze.

“Gale, will you at least look into something that will let him walk in the sun?”

“Of course. It shouldn’t be too difficult; I have heard of artifacts that do precisely that.”

At that, the tension leaves your shoulders somewhat. You spend a few hours talking.

You head back to your room and open the door quietly. He’s sitting on the bed, head in his hands, and his face whips up to meet yours at the sound of your footsteps. His eyes look wet, and you immediately rush over, wrapping him in your arms.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Nightmare?” You run your hands down his back, trying to soothe the shaking.

“I woke up and you were gone. Just- not there,” he says, and you realize he had assumed the worst. The trembling had lessened, but not that much. You gently coax him to lie down with you. You rest your head on his chest, arms around his waist.

“I was with Gale and Shadowheart. He’s invited us to Waterdeep, and he’ll also be looking for options to help you walk in the sun.” At that last statement your voice cracks a little, that thought creeping into your mind again.

Astarion was quiet for a moment, letting his breathing even out. “I thought…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

“No. I could never. I promised. We’d be together.” Your hands find his and tangle your fingers together.

He squeezes. “I know. But after you’ve seen me today, seen how hard it is, maybe you changed your mind.”

You bite down the rising wave of nausea. If I hadn’t stopped him, he wouldn’t have this problem. Your heart races in response. “Astarion. I will never leave you,” you say as evenly as you can.

He can hear your pulse pick up, and it makes him worry. Were you lying? He sighs and moves to tilt your chin to look at him. He’s nothing but open and vulnerable, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Then what are you not telling me, darling?” He looks at you, terrified, waiting for the axe to come down on him.

You wince. It’s harder to communicate now, with the tadpoles gone. Conversations that could be bypassed with sharing thoughts now needed to be had. You take one sharp breath, steeling yourself. “I’m not lying, about staying with you. I had trouble falling asleep. I was thinking… maybe I should have let you do the rite.”

He flinches at the last words. “I told you, dear. This feels more like me. And I’m not happy about the choices I was given either, but it was this or… or lose myself.” He tenses, his muscles under you tightening. “Is this you regretting it because I’m now a burden?”

“No, no!” You look almost offended. “But had I let you ascend, maybe you would be happier. Maybe you’d eventually make peace or even prefer that person you would become.”

“But would you?” He asks, voice low.

You pause and shake your head. “That’s the thing. It was selfish of me to put my feelings into consideration. I could have just not said anything - you would have ascended. And if that wasn’t what I wanted, then that’s my problem. It shouldn’t have affected your decision.”

He scans your face and finds no deceit there. He moves closer to you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It’s loving and gentle, but you can also feel his desperation through it.

“Trust me, darling,” he says after pulling away, “I would rather have this. I would rather have you. In a way that isn’t tainted or warped or corrupted. Just. This.”

His lips travel down to the hollow of your throat as he says those words, and a shiver runs down your body.

He then straightens up, cupping your face in his hands. He’s nervous, but in a soft, hopeful way, just like that night in the graveyard when he first told you he loved you.

“I love you,” he says again, smiling as you lean into his touch and nod, indicating your reciprocation. “And I do not know if vampires are allowed to get married, but I would like to spend the rest of my existence with you.”

You blink in surprise, then your eyes water. Was this a proposal?

“I know you’re tired of all the adventuring and we already have ‘making me walk in the sunlight’ on it - but I’m sure we can add ‘make you immortal’ to our list of things to do, hm?” He adds, smirking a bit. He knows it’s selfish, but when has he ever been not? He wants you by his side, for eternity.

You huff out a laugh. “I didn’t even get to answer your first question!”

“Oh, I just assumed it was a very resounding yes,” he says cheekily, and you smack his shoulder playfully.

“Okay. Yes. Yes!” You say loudly, and he grabs you and holds you tight, pressing gentle kisses everywhere he can reach.

Soon enough his lips find yours again, and it doesn’t take long for him to breathlessly ask if you wanted more, nothing but happiness in his heart and mischief in his eyes.

“Yes,” you say in between kisses.

Yes. Yes to everything.

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - JJK | FOURTEEN

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours. "Hey, Byeol?" "Mhmm?" "You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

Bad Decision #14 - New Rules

warnings: jungkook incorrectly does a bird!!! byeols bird is unhinged!! smut - fingering!! oc hasn't shaved and jk simply prefers it that way! no kissing rule established (boo), no pet names rule established (double boo), no hand holding either!!!! jk has a huge boner <3 f receiving, nothing for him!!! rules are rules!!! mirrors <3 jk is always so chatty he he , mild hand kink?

soundtrack: nonsense - sabrina carpenter; wrong- zayn, kehlani

wc: 8k

bd total wc: 450k (on-going)

minors dni | 

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

"Hey," you greet Jungkook with a coy smile by your apartment door. He smiles back. Tells you that you look like shit. Is definitely lying. 

The way he looks you up and down gives it away.

Your hair is up in a claw clip, still a little uneven in colour because you don't want to put it through even more torture. A slouchy white shirt hangs off your left shoulder, and a pair of dark leggings hug your legs. It's casual. Comfy. Still got glitter on your eyes, as always.

Jungkook can't remember if you've had a discussion about yoga leggings, and how they've got a track record of giving him boners in record speed.

You haven't. You're just aware your ass looks fairly good in them. Not like it matters. Not like you need him to think your ass looks good. No, nothing like that at all.

You also haven't started a daily squat challenge. That would be immature. Flirting with danger. And even if you had, it would be incredibly stupid to leave the chart up on the kitchen fridge - which is where you beeline after you leave the door open for him. 

You don't bother inviting him in, mind you. He knows he's welcome. Not because he's been there a thousand times over, nor because it's where you usually spend time together, but because the apartment is yours. He's welcome in your space.

But he is incredibly early - and you tell him as such when you curl up on the couch, tucking the piece of paper you'd swiped from the fridge door beneath a stack of magazines. Jungkook takes the spot next to you, despite the fact there are plenty of other places for him to sit instead. Part of you is tempted to kick him off.

The rest of you, though? So incredibly glad to have him close again.

"Danbi's class runs for another half an hour," you tell him as you scroll through the Netflix landing page.

It's a Monday, and neither of you have been at work today. The perks of your schedules aligning mean that Monday is always a safe bet, but you'd been in desperate need of alone time. The past few weeks have exhausted your social battery.

Jungkook gets like that sometimes, too - but he also doesn't like spending too much time in his own head, and so when a text from you had pinged through earlier that afternoon asking if he wanted to hang out, he replied almost immediately.

It's been a week. Over a week, actually. It's the first time he's seen you since you left his apartment. There's been no real discussion of what happened. A few 'i've seen your tits lol' texts here and there, but nothing that really qualifies as a grown-up conversation. You think you like it better this way; prefer the ominous unknown of the impact such a venture has had on your friendship. 

For the most part, it seems like it's had minimal impact. None of which you can recognise straight off the bat, at least. Maybe he's a little more comfortable now than he once was, but you can't really tell. Not entirely. 

Thing is, he always seemed comfortable before. There's never really been a need for boundaries. They came and went naturally. 

Perhaps that's your problem: you got far too relaxed far too quickly.

And yet you keep a little distance. Who cares if he's seen your tits? God forbid you sit too close to one another.

"Class?" He questions, not realising Danbi was still studying.

She isn't. It's just her hobby. Something she does to unwind after spending all day chasing after unruly dogs.

You nod, eyes still on the screen, looking for something mindless to put on. He's here for the second installment of your Deadpool marathon, so you don't want to put anything worthy of investment on. 

"Pole."

"Pole as in..." he says slowly, not sure of the correct term, so you help him out.

"As in pole dancing," you confirm. "She's been doing it for a while. Keeps trying to get me to join."

Jungkook doesn't look at you as he smirks, his eyes now also focused on the Netflix loading screen. "You? Pole dancing?"

There's a jovial glint in his eye, as if he thinks it's the funniest thing he's heard all afternoon. If you were to say that, he'd tell you that you're wrong. It's the funniest thing he's heard all day.

"Hey!" You kick your leg out to tap him, but he stops it before you can reach him. Squeezes his hand ever so gently around your foot. Pushes it back towards you, and holds it down. "I could be good at pole!"

He looks over to you now. "Byeol, I've seen you after twenty minutes on a treadmill. You don't have the stamina."

The smile on his lips would make it seem like he's joking - but he has seen you on a treadmill after twenty minutes. He's absolutely telling what he deems to be the truth, and the offence you take only makes him smile even more.

"Don't-" you halt your words to utter a shriek of disbelief. "Don't have the stamina? Fuck you."

"Nah," he grins. "You wouldn't have the stamina to handle me."

The conversation remains steady; a flirt between friends. Nothing more, nothing less. It's easy. Casual. 

And when Danbi gets home, it doesn't change. Oh so incredibly easy. Jungkook fits into the life you've carved out for yourself, almost like there was a nook waiting just for him. 

Pizza is ordered. Deadpool is played. Ryan Reynolds' ass in lycra is praised. Everything is as it should be.

When it hits midnight, and Danbi is already tucked up in bed, Jungkook makes his excuses. Gears up to leave. Mentions the fact he's got the gym in the morning. Can't be out too late.

The part of you that considers telling him to stay is quiet. Instead, you just nod and agree. 

"It's a miracle you're still able to have a decent sleeping pattern," you say as you walk him to the door. "I'd be exhausted all the time."

He doesn't tell you, but he is. Really could have done with an evening to himself. Uni is ramping up, and he's worried he's gonna fall behind on his coursework already.

It's why he's pretty much radio silent for the week that follows.

Until, all of a sudden, he's not.

Jungkook: DB. 

You: That's no better than disco ball.

Jungkook: It's better than BD.

You: ...Ball disco?

Jungkook: Big Ditties.

You: Oh my god.

You: I'm blocking you.

Jungkook: No you're not. Come hang out. 

Jungkook: Coursework is driving me insane.

Jungkook: Need a distraction.

You: Good. Hope it does <3

Jungkook: :( comeee.

You: No :) x

You arrive a little after ten. 

Jungkook is in sweats and a T-shirt, beyond the point of caring to dress up in your presence. Your dynamic is well-established by now; comfort found in the confines of your time spent together. He's got a buttered slice of toast in one hand, a dusting of crumbs detailing the tips of his fingers like the glitter on the inner corners of your eyes. He'd burnt it. You can tell by the scent that lingers in the air, and the knife marks near the crusts where he'd tried to scrape it off. 

He grins, in that stupid kind of lopsided way he always does whenever he gets his way. 

"Thought you said you weren't coming?"

Your lips are pursed, annoyance written along the line of your frown. The ink is water-soluble, though. One bite down on your bottom lip and it washes away. "I'm here to see the children."

He stands to the side. Opens the door just a little bit wider. "It's about time. They were about to report you to child protective services."

"Oh, yeah?" You encourage his teasing as you step over the threshold. 

"Uh-huh," he continues as he bites down on the toast. It crunches beneath his teeth, but doesn't stop him from talking. "Negligent mother, they said - shoes off -" he interrupts himself when you point to your feet. "Take them to my room though."

It's curious, the way he's still keeping you hidden. The only reason for them to not be in the hallway is to stop Jimin from asking questions when he arrives home. 

If you knew the grilling Jungkook's been getting ever since that evening Jimin nearly walked in on the pair of you, you'd understand. It's far easier for Jungkook if he gives his housemate as little ammunition to tease him with as he can. 

But Jimin's not home. He's in Busan for the weekend.

Jungkook doesn't tell you this. He's not sure why. Part of him doesn't want to talk about Jimin with you. It's stupid, he'll admit, but he likes being your friend. Likes you being his friend. Doesn't like Jimin having one up on him.

He thinks it would be the same if he had a sister. That kind of protective nature.

But he's also seen you naked. Knows that he really can't kid himself into thinking it's entirely platonic. Is kind of confused by it all.

Just knows that he likes the way things are. Doesn't want them to change.

And so he doesn't mention Jimin.

When you enter his room, shoes tossed by his desk, you clamber up onto his bed and take a seat. There's no protest from him, no sign of it being an unwanted intrusion on his space. His sheets have been changed since your last visit, gold acrylic immediately washed away the morning after.

He takes a perch on his desk chair, swinging it around to face you. You're lit only by the lamp of his bedside table and the glow of the city coming in through his curtains. The warmth of the light makes your glitter look like crackling embers burning through the night skies. 

"So," you say, all very matter of a fact. There's a demure nature to your poise. It's not very 'you'. "You requested my company?" 

He nods.

"Why?"

He spins in his chair to his desk, and picks up a bird. Reads it aloud. "Invite a girl over."

You look at him for a moment, and purse your lips. He's an idiot.

"We both know that this isn't what that means."

"Why not?" He says as if he's genuinely without a clue. 

"Because!" 

You don't elaborate. Think there's no need. He knows exactly why not - but he's an insolent little fucker when he wants to be. 

"No, because what, Byeol?" He says with a grin. He knows you're right. Doesn't care.

"Because," you emphasise. "We both know that inviting a girl over is so much more than just a simple act of asking her to come round. There are layers to it. Innuendo. It's like asking if she wants ramyeon, Kook. You know this."

There's a grin on his lips that he's trying to hide - and is failing miserably. 

"The bird says-"

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh. "It doesn't matter what the bird says. You know what it means."

"Yeah," he feigns innocence to his misdemeanour, eyes all wide and watery. So deep brown in colour it feels like a black hole is just sucking you in. Will never let you leave. God help the next girl who falls in love with him. "It means that I have to invite a girl to my place." He gestures towards you. Shakes his head. "You are a girl, no?"

"You've seen my tits, no?"

"You can't use tits as a qualifier," he tells you. "Not when you insist I also have tits."

"Touche - but still. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl. I'm not a girl girl."

"What does that even mean?" He scoffs, but he knows what you mean. Knows that the risk of rejection from you isn't the same as it is with a random girl. Knows that you're an exception. Not the rule.

"Like, a romantic interest," you say, well-aware he doesn't need it explaining. You just think you need to say it for your own sake. "I'm a friend. It doesn't say invite a friend round, does it?"

"Okay, but it doesn't not say that, does it?"

You're stern as you stare him down. "Jungkook."

"Byeol," he replies with a grin so cheeky it's impossible to remain poised. 

You roll your eyes. Lie down. Wave your arm in the air. "C'mere."

He doesn't relent. Doesn't say no. Just stands. Walks to his bed, and flops down beside you. 

"Gimmie your phone," you say, but he refuses. "Don't be a pussy."

"I'm not. You're just not getting my phone."

You sit up. Rest on your elbow and look down at him. His eyes are closed. "Why not?"

"Because."

There's a smile tickling your lips. He's imitating you - but he also doesn't feel like explaining. Doesn't feel like trying to find a valid reason beyond 'I'm scared'.

"What happened to facing your fears, huh?" You poke his cheek. "You gonna be a coward? How is that gonna help you?"

"Byeol," he whines, tilting his head to avoid your continued poking. It's annoying, and deliberate. You want him frustrated. Want him proactive. Want him a little riled up. "Stop."

You don't. 

"Byeol."

"I'll stop when you stop being a baby," you tell him, poking at his other cheek. Your finger travels all over his face, poking and prodding, ignoring the way he bats you away.

"Stop."

"You stop."

"Byeol."

And still, you don't. At least not until his fingers clasp around your wrist, holding it far away from his face.

"I said stop," he says with a voice so low it's almost a growl. His eyes are still closed. He pulls your hand to his chest. Holds it there. Is vaguely aware of the fact he's drawn you closer. Had almost made you lose your balance entirely. 

It's not until you speak that he realises quite how close you actually are. Hears how quiet you are, too. 

"And I told you to stop being a baby."

He opens his eyes. Takes you in. You're resting on his chest, thanks to his grip on your wrist and where he's positioned it. Neither of you seem to remember the concept of breathing.

You're close. Closer than he intended. So close he could probably count every single speck of glitter on the inner corner of your eyes. So fucking close. He thinks of the last time you were this close. 

Also thinks of the fact he's now wearing sweats, and really shouldn't be thinking about you naked. Not again. 

But he is, though it's not your body he's thinking of; it's your eyes, and the glitter that had been caught in your lashes beneath the water of his shower. How you'd glistened. And then fuck it, he's thinking of the way you showed him your fingers, all dainty and pretty, covered in your own-

"Fuck," you hiss in surprise, breaking from his gaze. His eyes fall to his chest, where the culprit of the interruption lies. 

Another bird; resting pretty just below his ribs. It moves, up and down, with the contractions of his lungs. Jungkook looks to you, then back to the bird. You sit up straighter and pinch it from his chest. He just lets you, because he doesn't wanna be the one to do it. 

He can tell from the wing shape alone that it's one of yours - and even if he couldn't, the way you groan and let your body fall onto his in defeat is a clear sign. He laughs. Strokes his hand up your arm, then ruffles at your hair.

"How bad is it this time?"

You just whine again. 

"That bad?"

Nodding into his chest, you hold out the bird for him to take. Only once his chest begins to stutter beneath you, laughter taking hold of his lungs, do you sit up.

"Stop," you tell him, pouting. 

He doesn't stop laughing. Serves you right for not listening to him earlier. "Christ, Byeol. Are any of these birds-"

"No," you cut him off before he can finish. 

He sighs. Looks up at the ceiling. Shakes his head. Holds the bird to his chest.

"Let's think about this logically first," he says, because it's the only way he can think to not let things get out of hand again like he did last time. "Let's talk about it before we do it instead of after."

You nod. Take a deep breath. "Okay. What are you thinking?"

He looks at you and then back up at the birds. Scrunches his face up. 

"I'm thinking... Fuck, alright, I'll be honest. I haven't done..." he trails off, cringing at himself. "Since my ex - although, technically she isn't an ex, but you know what I mean - since her..."

You wait with bated breath. Know what he's getting at. "You haven't done this in a while?"

He's silent. Lets his head turn to face you. "Haven't done this in a while."

"It's okay. We don't have-"

"No," he says. "A bird is a bird. I want to do it."

"You do?"

"Well," he considers, pretending like it's the first time. He's thought about this a lot; the mechanics of your situation, how it plays out in the future. Risk assessment. He's good at those. Has to do so many of them at university that he's started drawing one up one for the pair of you in his head. "I mean if my birds are making me approach girls, chances are things will head in the direction of hooking up, right?"

You suppose he's right. Tell him as much. 

"So it'd be good for me to get practise in, right?"

"You think you need it?" You grin.

"No. But I enjoy it," he says. Holds his palms up above his head. Observes them. "I like using my hands."

They're large. One of them is covered in tiny tattoos, the other completely bare. Thin veins hide beneath his honey skin, the tendons always protruding just a little bit. The kind of hands that would be good to hold. 

"You've got nice hands," you admit. 

Long fingers. Thick knuckles. Well-trimmed nails. Perfect hands, you consider, but will never divulge. Wouldn't want to boost his ego so much.

"Have you been checking them out?" He teases.

"You made me!" you laugh, deflecting, then imitating his voice. "'Look in the mirror, Disco Ball, blah blah blah. Eyes on me. Watch what I do.' I didn't have a choice."

"Sure," he taunts, but he knows you're probably not being dramatic. He really did make you watch yourself, and is probably gonna do it again. Seemed to work well the last time.

He places his hands beneath the side of his head, and takes a moment to check how you're feeling. 

You reciprocate his actions. Look at him for a little while. Neither of you say a word. It's like you're mentally preparing for what's about to happen; making sure that it's okay. Giving one another the chance to back out. 

You won't, though. Far less of a coward than Jungkook.  Too much pride. 

"How do we do this?" you whisper. 

He smiles. Just faintly. Tenderly. "However is most comfortable for you."

"Well, yeah," you smile back. It's sweet that he feels the need to clarify this. "But I mean, literally. Logically. How do we- Like- Do I just... take my trousers off?"

"I mean, it could be a start," Jungkook laughs. "We're thinking about it too hard."

You groan. Look to the ceiling with an embarrassed smile. You're both a little awkward, but it definitely feels like the awkwardness is mainly your problem today.

"Did you... with Jimin. Did you do this?" Jungkook asks. He's not sure why. Just wants to know. 

The bird lies between you both. Has just two words on it. No exclamation points this time, but still with capital letters. Somehow feels less vulnerable to you than the last one.

GET FINGERED.

You consider not answering. Think it's kind of shitty to air Jimin's laundry in such a way - but it's just as much about you as it is him. More so, even.

"Not really," you admit. "A little bit. I hurried him along."

Jungkook pauses now. Thinks. Asks, "hurried?"

"It's just kind of what I do," you sigh, pulling your knees a little further up. Closing off. Protecting yourself. Jungkook pushes them back down again. You let him. "I don't really let people touch me, in that regard. I let them fuck me. Don't let them... have me."

Jungkook wants to ask what that entails, but figures you'd have shared it if you wanted to. 

"I guess," you continue slowly, quickly glancing away, before deciding that his eyes are what you wanna see when you explain your relationship with sex. You want him to understand - and so you look back to him. He doesn't take his eyes off of you. "I kind of focus on the other person, yanno? For me, sex? Now? It's validation, I guess. Proving to myself I can still give people some form of... I don't know. Satisfaction? So yeah. I don't really want people touching me, as such. I'll touch them. I'll get them off. And I'd prefer it if they didn't get me off."

"It's a power thing, isn't it?" Jungkook theorises. "Control?"

You're silent. Just shrug. Maybe.

"I think - and you can tell me to shut up if you want - but I think that maybe it's because of your ex. He always held the cards?" Jungkook pauses, but you don't respond. Just look at his chest. Toy with the silver chain around his neck. "And this is your way of holding them instead?"

The silence remains. You're twisting his chain around his neck, now. Getting the clasp to the nape of his neck instead of at the front where it had been. Jungkook watches your unfocused eyes and wonders what the fuck is running through that disco ball mind of yours.

"Hey, Byeol?"

"Mhmm?"

"You're still in control," he says so tenderly it's almost a whisper. He reaches over. Picks a rogue chunk of glitter from the strands of your hair that wisp around your face. Tucks the hair behind your ear. Lets his hand fall to chin, and tilts your face upwards. Looks you dead in the eye, and says, "I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. Nothing more, nothing less."

You shake your head. "You get a say in this. It's not all up to me."

"I know I do," Jungkook replies without missing a beat. "If I didn't want to do something, I wouldn't. You're in control, but I can't be forced to do anything. Good luck trying if you think I can be."

You narrow your eyes a little. "So you're saying you want to do stuff with me?"

He grins. "Well, I don't find you entirely repulsive, even if you are incredibly annoying."

"Always a charmer."

"It's how I get all those girls - oh, wait," he jokes. Pauses. Thinks. Sighs. "Look, I'd rather work through my issues before I fuck up yet another relationship, and from the looks of it, you'd rather work through yours too. It just makes sense."

"I mean, we could just get therapy."

"Expensive."

"Time-consuming," you agree.

"This is far easier," he smirks, before deciding that you've had enough serious chats. There's no point running around in circles again. And so he decides to lighten the mood. "Now do you wanna get fingered or not?"

"Oh my god!" You slap at his chest and roll onto your back, laughing. "You're fucking vulgar."

"Is that a no?"

"It's an 'ask nicely, Jungkook.'"

He rolls onto his back, now. Laughs, too. "Is that what you want? For me to play nicely?"

"You're not playing at all, yet," you remind him.

There's hesitancy from both of you. It's a little awkward, and so unlike you - but there's no alcohol in your system like there was the first time a bird was attempted, and no excuse to touch like there was with the paint. 

This one is just you and Jungkook.

"Can I go freshen up first?" You ask, a little nervous and highly aware of the fact you hadn't come with the intention of getting Jungkook in your underwear. He says of course, but you're halfway out of the door regardless.

As soon as you're in the bathroom, you're rummaging around in the cupboard - praying - looking for a disposable razor of sorts. You know Jungkook keeps his good one in his room, next to his towels. 

Apparently, Jimin just loves to share regardless of what it is, much to Jungkook's dismay. It's not like Jimin's razor is here either - he's taken it with him to Busan.

Your search is fruitless, and when you return to Jungkook's room a little unsure of yourself, jeans off and tossed onto his desk chair, he can sense there's something wrong.

"I haven't shaved," you sort of blurt out, much to his surprise. 

"Okay?" He grins, drying off his wet hands that he'd washed in the kitchen while you were gone. "Nor have I? You want a medal?"

"No, I just-"

"Thought I'd care?" He questions, a little bit offended. "First things first, this isn't about me. It's about you. And secondly, I kinda like it - so I really don't care."

"You like it?"

"I like pussy," Jungkook simply states. "Like it no matter what way it's served up."

"You're not eating it."

"Not yet."

"You are unbelievable."

"Believe it, Byeol," he winks, perching on the end of his bed. Reaching out, he encourages you closer. Gets you standing between his legs. "Enough fucking around though. I think we should set out some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" You question, knowing it's probably smart. Aren't sure why you didn't think of it first.

He knows why. Casual sex isn't that much of a big deal to you.

Jungkook's not good at the whole unattached sex thing, though. He only really sleeps with girls he's interested in romantically. 

A boy that looks like him? You had expected him to have well over a dozen notches on his bedpost - but he can count them all on one hand.

It's not that he's a prude, or vanilla, or anything like that. Jungkook fucks. He fucks well. He just fucks the same people for extended periods of time. Takes comfort in routine. No chance to sleep around when you're as loyal as a dog.

You're the exception, not the rule. Time and time over, it becomes more and more apparent. 

"Rules," he nods.

"No kissing," you reply almost immediately.

"No-" he's about to protest, but then nods. "No kissing."

In fact, he actually agrees with you. He loves kissing. Might even like it more than blowjobs. Would happily take an hour make-out session in lieu of foreplay. For him, it is foreplay.

And so despite how desperately sad he is to know he won't get his favourite thing, he understands why.

He only likes it because of how intimate it is.

"Anything else?"

You take a moment to think, and then decide, "No hand holding, either. And no pet names."

"Not even Byeol?"

"At this point, I'm not even sure you remember my real name, Kook. Byeol is fine."

He nods, then scrunches his nose in a little disgust. 

"God." He dry-retches. "Imagine calling you something like baby." He retches again, a light grin tickling his lips as you scoff in offence. "Yeah, no you wouldn't suit anything cute."

"You're so lucky that the idea of you calling me baby repulses me," you flirt right back.

"Oh yeah?" he smirks - and then he's toying with the hem of your shirt. Pushing it up. Ghosting the lace of your thong with the tips of his fingers. "You'd hate it, would you?"

His fingers creep down. The pads of his fingers trace the tops of your thighs. Skirt the lace trim of your panties where they cover your pussy. Has your heart beating at a mile a minute.

"Would be such a turn-off."

The way his eyes scan your face has you wanting to take back every single rule you've just set.

"So you're telling me you're turned on, now?"

His words are met with a shrug. "I don't know, Jeon. Am I?"

"If I'm not allowed pet names, there's no way in hell you're allowed Jeon."

"No?"

He stands. Towers above you. Turns you round. Lowers his head, and lets his lips ghost your ear. "Not unless you wanna get me hard."

You fucking giggle. It's sin. When you turn your head ever so slightly to whisper in his ear, he thinks about saying fuck it to the birds. Needs more than what they're providing. 

"I can feel you. You're already hard, Jeon."

He pulls away from you. Palms at his crotch. You're right. And so he just smirks. "Fine. Harder."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," you tease - but are met with a show of dominance you've haven't seen before from Jungkook as clasps both of your wrists together just above your ass. Positioning you just where he had you last time he was in your room, you know your underwear is getting ruined.

The view reflected back in his full-length mirror only makes your heart beat even faster. 

"I won't lie," he swallows back the nerves that he was able to hide while he was flirting. Down his throat they go, settling next to his heart that's already beating a mile a minute. Positioning himself behind you, he encourages you both to the floor. You're sitting in front of him, as he kneels behind you and pulls you back a little. "You're right. I'm already real fucking hard, Byeol."

"Really?" You smirk. "Couldn't tell."

He tilts his head back. Groans. "God, I hate you. I want you to ignore it, okay? It's my problem to deal with."

All you can do is nod. 

"Okay," he says softly as he leans around to position your legs how wants them: bent at the knees. Spread. You're on display - and Dear lord, what a treat for the audience. A treat for him. "Look in the mirror. Watch me, okay? Watch my hands."

And you do; watch the way his palms lay flat on your knees, then slowly, gradually, trickle down your thighs. "What do you say if you wanna stop?"

"Chess," you say, ending the word with a gasp as his thumbs brush the outer lace of your panties. 

"Good girl," he hums into your ear, but you can barely hear him over your beating heart as his thumb begins to stroke over your clothed pussy. You're already soaked. It wets his thumb. Has him smirking. "Told you so."

He pushes the lace to the side. Exposes you. Makes him curse. Is slow as he sinks a single finger into you. 

He keeps it shallow. Just the first two knuckles. Just enough to let you know he's there. You can still see the ink on his finger. 

The moan you exhale is desperate. Needy. Gets him all smug. 

"Just testing the waters," he husks into your ear as he pulls it back out, before the pads of his fingers begin to massage around your entrance.  He's teasing. Caressing. Doing shit you've only ever had women do to you. The dudes you've fucked have never really cared for stimulation beyond the clit; haven't understood that the right touches in slightly different places can get you so fucking needy. 

Needy like you mean it. Not the bratty kind, where you're in control; the pathetic kind, where they're in control. 

He's massaging. Using his thumb and forefinger. Working his way up your labia; left side, then right. Up, then down. 

It's not like the sensation is anywhere close to what it feels like when his fingers are elsewhere, but it's the fact he's doing it all that really gets you flustered. He's careful. Delicate. Wants you to feel good. 

When you let out a moan, you can feel him smirk against you. He lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes his middle finger inside; fully this time. Pumps into you once, twice - "are you always this wet?" - then begins to stroke against your front wall. You whine.

He pushes into you again. Tells you how fucking hot you sound. Pulls out. In again. And then he builds speed. Fucks his finger into you. Just one - but it's enough.

Finally, you answer him between laboured breaths.

"Dunno. You'll have to do this again sometime and figure it out."

Withdrawing his finger, Jungkook rubs small circles over your clit. Holds onto you tighter. Smirks as your whimpers begin to build. His nose nestles into your hair, lips against your ear. "You want that, huh?"

The way your hips push up and grind against his languid movements should be indication enough - but you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

You smirk right back. "Meh. You could always just compare notes with Jimin, instead."

He pauses for a split second. Scoffs. Sinks his finger back into you. Builds pace. Can hear the sounds of your soaked cunt and knows that it would be cruel to compare. Jimin wouldn't stand a chance. There's no way he had you like this, too.

And Jungkook would be right. The way Jungkook has you now is unlike any of your hookups. You're sober, for a start, and that always helps in the wetness department - but you are wetter than you've been in a fair while.

His fingers are long. Intentional in the way they move. His middle finger hits all the right spots as it pushes into you. He curls it gently without needing to be told. He just knows. Can feel the slight difference in texture. Had trained himself to find it in the past, and is pleased to see yours is just as easy to locate.

You don't think Seokjin ever found it. Not really. For a while, you pretended he could - but it never felt like this.

"Kook," you rasp, ridding your mind of all thoughts of Seokjin. He's no right to be in your brain when it's someone else making you feel so good. "Right there. Right there. Fuck."

"I know," he husks. "Can you take another?"

All do you do is nod. Moan something incoherent. You want more.

He can tell.

"Can you take three?" he asks. You just fucking nod. Will take what he gives you. "Mhhm?" 

He bites down the syllables, stopping the 'baby' he wants to mewl from coming out. He knows pet names are a no, but it's a force of habit. It's just like the muscle memory in his fingers knowing how he should touch you; something well trained, well practised.

He doesn't relent. Keeps going. Has your cunt stuffed with his fingers. Will make you cum.  

It's just as much for him now as it is for you. He's watching your face, how you refuse to open your eyes, how your dewy lips are rested ajar, soft moans humming from your throat. 

He kind of hates the rules. Knows they serve a purpose, and that they're smart, but it'd be so much easier for him if he could kiss you. 

It's not that he actively wants to make out with you, it's just that it comes naturally to him. He doesn't think he's ever been inside a woman without actually kissing her. There's a sizable portion of his brain which is having to work against his instincts, now. If he didn't have to waste that energy, he could spend it on you instead.

But it also makes it exciting. A little sordid. You've removed the romance he typically associates with a position as promiscuous as this. Maybe he is capable of fucking around.

"I know," he husks as your body writhes beneath his touch. "Ba-" Shit. "Byeol, I know. That feel good?"

Feel good? Feel good? What kind of a fucking question is that? If you could form a coherent sentence instead of moaning every other second, you'd ask him as such. Instead, you settle with, "fuck." 

"Should I take that as a yes?" he smirks against your hair, his second hand dropping from the grip it has on your waist down to your pussy. Pushing your thighs a little further apart, Jungkook has you in the palm of his hand like a fucking ragdoll. His hands work in tandem, fingers plunging into your while he rubs dainty circles over your clit, careful to not be too aggressive. He's taking his time. Building your high. 

"Take it as a 'you could do better'," you whine, just to wind him up a little. He's doing fucking fantastic.

"Better?" He sounds offended, but is smirking, watching pleasure take hold of your features. He loves the way you goad him on. Knows you must be a right little brat in the right scenario. Think maybe one day, he'd like to experience it fully. For now, he simply growls into your ear. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." He builds his pace. The sounds of him sliding into you are lewd. Soaking. Sopping wet. "You hear that? Tell me to do better again. Go on. I dare you."

Your gaze opens, all hazy and cum-drunk, falling on the mirror. Your skin is dewy, and the incident positioning of your spread legs puts you on full display. 

Jungkook withdraws his fingers. Spreads your lips open. Holds his stare on you. Watches as your wetness drips from your entrance. Rubs circles on your clit. Encourages more. Watches as it seeps from you. Presses his hips upwards to let you know he's still fucking solid for you. He gathers your leaking slick on his index and middle finger, then pushes it back into you. 

He's panting, too. 

And so you smirk. Watch the pained lust in his eyes. Tell him, "do better," in a hushed whisper.

He's slow. Lets his touches linger. Doesn't pump into you like he had been - instead, he scissors his fingers ever so gently - and that's when you decide he's a menace to society and that you're probably doing the world a favour by keeping him off the streets for a little while longer.

"Holy shit," you hiss, and then your fingers are wrapped around his wrist again. He fucking laughs. 

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his smirk not hiding his teeth. He's thinking about kissing you again. Just a small one. On the side of your head. Has to talk just to stop himself.

"That better, Byeol?" 

All you can do is whine. Nod a little. 

"Can't hear you. I asked a question. Give me an answer," he teases. "Now, is this better, Byeol?"

"No," you lie. "Considerably worse."

"Fine," he says, and pulls out. Grips your thighs with his soaked fingers. Squeezes them together. Lets you pant for a little while. He's panting, too. "On your knees."

"Sorry?"

"You will be," he smirks, changing his position behind you. "Get on your knees."

And so you do. You relinquish trust to him. Feel like you might have a heart attack from how fast it's beating - but he knows this. Strokes the curve of your hip. Hugs you into his chest ever so slightly and says, "the minute it gets too much, or you decide you've done enough... just say the word, Byeol." 

He nuzzles his nose against your hair. Likes the way it smells. Hugs you a little tighter, still. 

You nod. "At least tell me how you want me, first?"

It's the mental preparation you need, much more than physical. He knows this. Knows that his teasing has a time and a place. What was okay a few moments ago would be too brash now - so he tries a little tenderness once more. 

He waits for you to look at him. Not in the mirror this time, but head turned, eyes on his. The glitter on your eyes catches in the light. Reflects in his eyes. Puts stars in them.

"On your front. Head down," he says slowly, not wanting it to sound crude. "Ass up. Or just flat on your front, if you'd rather. Up to you. Wait-" He stands, holding out his hand for you to take. When you do, he pulls you up and guides you to his bed instead. Lets you sit. He still stands. "Just realised I was asking you to be facedown on the literal floor. My bad."

You don't say anything, just smile at the fact he realised it. Such a boy, and yet such a gent. He's trouble, there's no doubt about it. As your eyes study his face, he seems sincere - and so you turn. Lean forward. Stretch out. Face down, ass up.

"Fuck," he hisses and gets on his knees behind you. One of his hands grapples at your ass, fingers sinking into the peachy flesh. He strokes against the soft skin, and then asks, "how do you feel about spanking?"

You smirk into his sheets. Plunge even further into them. Raise your ass even higher. "It's not on the bird."

His fingers dig further into your cheek. You're mewling. He's getting delirious again. "Byeol..."

The way you move your hips ever so slightly is absolute sin. You know you're trying to make him crack. You know it's working. "Mhmm?"

He pulls you back. Presses the bulge in his trousers against you. He's still hard. Harder, even. His hands are on your hips, keeping you close, even as he retracts - before pulling you tight to him. Repeats. Ruts himself against you a couple more times.

"If one of those birds doesn't end with me fucking you-"

"You'll what?" you say with a sardonic smile as you twist your body around and out of his grasp. You're on your back now, reaching for his shirt, pulling him down. 

He complies. Tangles his legs with yours. Lets his hand cup your heat. Toys with you. Teases. 

"What will you do, huh?" You flirt. "Die?"

He smirks now, too. Knows that you're taking the piss. Quite likes it. Likes that you remember the shit he says when he gets too horny for his own good.

"Maybe," he husks, sinking his fingers inside you again. Didn't even get to have you how he wanted you, but he likes this. Likes the flirt. Likes how erratic your breathing gets. 

"Guess you'll just have to - fuck - keep waiting for them to fall," you turn a little. Hook your leg over his hip. Grind against him. Ride his fingers. "See if you get what you want."

"I'm incredibly patient," he lies. Builds the speed he's fucking them into you at. Uses the hand that's not bringing you closer and closer to climax to hold your chin. Wants to keep you looking at him. 

"Liar."

"I'll do this for hours if it means making you cum," he almost snarls over the sound of your moans.

You laugh. Stutter on the moans in your throat. Tell him good luck. Let him know that you can't remember the last time someone else made you orgasm. You can do it yourself, easy. Someone else? Good fucking luck.

"Fine. We're gonna make you cum," he says as if it's a group activity - but then he drops his grip from your chin and reaches to the hand of yours that had been hooked over his shoulder. Guides it to your pussy. "Get yourself off."

You stare at him for a moment. His pace eases, but his gaze doesn't drop. He's slow. Rubs at you just in the right way. And then he says, "get yourself off while I'm inside you."

You say nothing. Do as you're told.

"Good girl."

It doesn't take long. If anything, it's embarrassing how quickly he has you coming undone. Admittedly, you're just as much a part of it as he is. Without your input, maybe he would have had to have been going for hours.

But you are involved, and you're shaking around him. Legs trembling. Toes pointed. Head buried into his chest, fingers wrapped around his wrist to stop him from overstimulating you too much. His name escapes your lips as your orgasm ripples through your muscles, and Jungkook just fucking laughs.

"So fuckin' hot," he praises, lips pouty, in desperate need of a kiss to offset the fact he's practically leaking precum into his pants.

Rules are rules, though. They're not made to be broken. Not these ones.

He withdraws from you, and wipes the mess on his sheets. Will deal with it later. Watches you as you giggle to yourself, orgasm well and truly delivered. When your eyes open and focus on him, Jungkook is pleased. You look content. 

"I'm still scared," you simper. "We might have to practise that one a few times."

He laughs now, too. Rolls onto his back. Can smell your arousal on his fingers. Has never been more hungry in his entire life.

"Such a liar."

But you both are, in your own ways. 

"Maybe. Thank you... for that," you say, very aware of the unfair dynamics of just you getting off, but knowing that without a fallen bird to specify it, there's no way you can just reciprocate.

"Pleasures all mine," he says, as if he isn't letting himself get severely blue-balled. Knows what the agreement is though. You getting him off now would be just for his benefit. He laments the fact he's not scared of blowjobs. Wishes all of his birds were like yours, now.

The silence consumes you both. Has you wondering why you never come undone like that normally. Makes you think maybe you need to stop preventing people from touching you in such a way. Jimin had tried. You can remember - but you'd dismissed him. 

He's not the only person you've dismissed in such a way. Perhaps you will enjoy casual sex more if you don't keep your desires at bay. Maybe Jungkook's been right about this all along.

"Anyways," you turn to face him. "Phone."

"Hmm?"

"Well, we've done my bird. We need to do yours from earlier."

Jungkook says nothing. Is a little bit confused. He's still hard. You've barely come down from your orgasm. Surely nows not the time?

You couldn't disagree more even if you tried. It's the perfect time. Stops you from thinking about how fucking good that was, and how much you want it to happen again.

"You... want me to invite a girl round?"

"Well, not while I'm still here" you consider. "Like, text them now, but arrange it for another time."

"Yeah, but-" Jungkook wants to protest. Wants to remind you that his sheets are covered in you. Instead, he just looks at the ceiling, a little baffled.

"If it's too much, why don't you just text a girl, at least?"

He frowns. You don't notice, because you're looking at the ceiling, too.

But then he sighs. Maybe you're right. Maybe he is being a coward. 

"Alright," he reaches for his phone from the nightstand. Unlocks it, and opens up his Instagram DMs. Looks over to you. Catches your gaze. Smiles, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "What do I say?"

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver. |  SMUT INDEX

[0oolookitsme]

Anything For You... And I

Type- One-Shot

Verse- Dwd!Harry x Dwd-Character!!Y/n

Word Count- 2.9k

Warnings- half of this piece is smut lmao

A/N- I've noticed that when I'm actively reading fics, I'm actively writing fics... y'all better hope that I read ff more frequently now heheh. Hope you enjoy <3

Also, a very happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate!

Harry was in a very good mood right now, on cloud nine even. It's just everything has went so perfectly today, he just wants to go home and have a nice little cozy time with his girlfri- no, fiancé. Yep, he's still digesting the fact that he proposed, she said yes and now they literally live in the same flat, as in together!

He shuts the lid of his laptop with a little too much force and reaches for his bag. Inside it, lies the moustache printed laptop cover that Y/n had thrifted for him- it never fails to lighten his mood when it's dark and make him gushier when it's good.

She told Harry that her father had taught her to never trust a man without a moustache, but because she knew he didn't want to grow one yet, she bought him this. "It won't be on your face but at least it's in one of your belongings!" She had punned and cackled.

Not able to put off the smile on his face, he puts the stack of thick folders in the small cupboard attached to his desk and leans forward to check if his shoelaces are tied properly or not. It's a habit he inherited from Y/n; it might as well be one of the first things he noticed about her.

The chair rolls back on its small four wheels because of the push from behind his knees as he stood up. Brushing down a hand over his suit to press off any creases he swings his bag on his left shoulder, fished out his car keys and picked up his phone from beside the bowl.

Turning on his heels he's caught off guard when he sees her at the gateway to his cabin.

"Hello there," she greets him in her honey soft voice, seemingly ready to strut in towards him.

This is the fifth time this lady is going to come and try to persuade Harry to do something he has already made clear a thousand times he doesn't want to do. He's in too good of a mood right now to deal with her bullshit again, causing him to exhale in annoyance.

"Lumi, I swear to god I will reach the HR before your house," he grits out, his hand going to weave through his hair whose roots feel cold to his touch.

At this statement, she straightens up and raises up her chin accusingly at him. She clears her throat but before her words can pull through her mouth, Harry brushes past her, muttering a stern 'move' and rushes into the lift that will take him to the basement- which is also the car park.

He doesn't even think about her before unlocking his phone and opening the phone app, waiting till the lift doors move apart from each other before pressing on her contact.

It only rings twice before she's picked it up and is greeting him in her same day-brightening voice, sounding to be in an okay-ish mood. "Hello?" She repeats again and that's when Harry realizes that he had totally forgotten he had to reply back to keep a conversation. It's just so easy to get carried away with her dreamy voice.

"Harry? Are you there?" She repeats, seeking some kind of response and sounding a bit concerned this time.

"Yea-yeah, I'm on-line hmm. Just called to let you know that I'm leaving now, can't wait to reach home," he smiled into the phone.

"Ahhh, okay," she sighs. "I'm going to be off this meeting in a few more minutes, then I only need to boil rice." Because she's on a call, it might seem as if she's saying that to him but she's rather telling this to herself- or so Harry thinks.

Frowning when he heard that her work was dragged on later than the official timings again today, he bid her goodbye with a 'see ya soon,' and threw his phone somewhere on the passenger seat beside his'. Set with a goal that he'll try to make her day better by doing whatever that'll be needed, he starts the engine and drives straight out of the exit; his hair flying in different directions as soon as he opens the window to the passenger's seat.

Driving, his eyes are on the road, but mind is listing all the things she likes that is tangible for him right now, at this time of the day. The only thing that sticks out is food, which she's already almost prepared. He was hoping he could find some florist; flowers always seem to put her in a good day. And because she's not so stubborn like him, she forgets about whatever bad thing that must've happened before.

Pressing brake lightly while nearing the traffic lights, he turns on the indicator and makes a swift turn to the lane on the left. Driving at a slightly faster speed at finding the lane empty, Harry enjoys the feeling of cold air against him as he drives in the same direction for ten more minutes before some bright light comes into his sight.

He parks in front of the building and gets out heroically, glad that it's still open. He reads the board, "Favourite-Savourits."

Entering the dimly lit space, he immediately moves for that isle which Y/n beelines to when she's with him. He gathers the main items he remembers in her arms and gets them checked, pays the bill and throws the receipt in the bin just beside the corner.

Satisfied, he exits the shop and comes to a hault when he sees an old lady pushing a cart, sticks of random flowers in it. He immediately makes a run for it, sure that if the lady were to look at her side right now, she'd have a heart attack.

"Excuse me!" He shouts, not able to run at the same speed he had started with anymore. "I want some flowers!"

The lady comes to a halt and turns around with a strange look on her face. She stands there quietly until Harry reaches her. Then, she chuckles at him.

"I'm on my way to throw these, darling," she tells him.

"But they are totally fresh!"

She clears her throat before telling him that the florists of this area have decided to throw these, in the name that they don't need these anymore. "You can take any of these if you want thought, I won't stop you."

Harry, who was nodding at her story to be polite hurriedly picks out some pretty flowers and reaches for his wallet. Though, he stops when the lady starts to walk forward again, dismissing him by saying that she doesn't need money for this. But because she also wished him a good night, he walks back to his car with a slight confusion still painting his face.

Once again, he increases the speed a little, not able to be patient to see his fiancé anymore.

As he is parking his car in the carpark which comes under the right of the flat itself, his phone starts ringing and he's quick to pick up when he sees that it's y/n whose calling and not a lazy colleague who will probably beg him to help them out with some work they procrastinated on.

"Hey, darling." He greets her, taking his keys out of the lock and gets out of his car. He's sure she heard him shutting the door but apparently, she didn't based on her next words.

"Where are you H? You said you were leaving like almost thirty-five minutes ago," she questions and trails off the end.

"Oh darling I'm just 5 minutes away from opening the door to our house," he laughs, "I'm sorry I took so long, put down the phone I'm just coming in."

She hums, muttering 'okay' before hanging up.

With some struggle, Harry manages to get inside the door, grateful that she held the door open for him. Whatever crisis he's in the midst of while managing all the stuff in his arms, he doesn't miss the sight of her eyes lightning up at the sight of her treats. It's like someone just cleaned them and now they are squeaky clean, shiny to be exact.

"Is this seriously why you got late, H?" She asks in a voice that Harry can't identify the emotion in. Although when he meekly nods at her, he's caught off guard when she throws her arms around his neck, pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips. "I'm not on my periods, H... what made you think that?" She questions him out of blue, her tone funny as she's looking him straight in the eyes but softly.

"I didn't do this because I thought you were on your periods, no. I did it because I'm pretty sure you've had an unfair and stressful day, and I left early and had time up my sleeve," he answers her like it's no big thing he did.

And while it is the minimum, y/n can't help but look at him as if he's her Saviour right now. She admires his efforts so much, that sometimes it turns into a battle inside her head- oh he did this?I shall pay him back in a greater way because his sweet soul deserves that. She's been working on that habit for a long time now but it's just hard, and she just wants to let go of the rope she ties herself with sometimes.

"Thank you. Thank you for doing this, I really appreciate it," she mumbled against his lips. "I'm not saying this to pay you back in any sense or anything else- but I was thinking of showering before I called you. Perhaps, you could join me?" She offers but it comes out as a question instead.

Pressing another kiss on her lips, he mutters a 'sure' before bending down to pick her up. Immediately her legs wrap around his waist, and she interlocks her ankles behind his back. They don't kiss, they don't make out- her forehead lies against his' and that's enough intimacy for them before they strip down to nothing but their goose-bumped skins against the chilly atmosphere of their bedroom bathroom.

Pressing her bare back against the wall as she slips her tongue into his mouth, he turns the shower taps, both hot and cold so that they don't burn or freeze in there.

In the meantime, she climbs off him while making sure their tongues stay tied. Her hands crawl up his sides and reach for the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his locks which have gotten straight due to water falling down directly on his forehead and pushing his fluffy hair down onto his scalp.

Water droplets trickle down their faces, getting in between their kiss and making it sloppier.

Harry's hands snake around her hips before they reach down to grab her ass cheeks, smacking one lightly and making her groan against his mouth. His mouth reaches for her cheek then jawline then her neck, and she keeps tilting her head more and more to the side to give him all the space he wants.

One of his hand crawls up her stomach, causing butterflies to erupt just under wherever his palm goes. He cups her jawline first and then reaches back for her tit, cupping it and pinching its nipple- catching another throaty moan from her.

She has completely let go of herself by now, and Harry can tell. "I need you to stand balanced right now, you hear me?" He says as he cups her cheeks with his hands.

She gets confused as to why but before she can catch the breath to ask him to elaborate, Harry's on his knees with his mouth on her heat and it's snatched right away from her. Her hands go back to take ahold of the walls as he works his way through her arousal, lapping it up vigorously and moving his head so that his nose keeps brushing against her clit.

"Oh fuck-" she moans, her knees buckling when he starts to thrust his tongue in and out of her weepy hole. She can feel wetness dripping out of her and right when she starts feeling the knot in her stomach, his fingers replace his mouth as he latches onto her throbbing clit.

Poking his tongue at its sensitive center, he continues his suction on the bundle of nerves, enjoying the series of curse words and his name falling out of her mouth like a pleading chant. When he starts feeling her legs shaking beside his head, he increases his pace.

"Come for me, cum for your fiancé," he manages to say smugly before latching back onto her heat.

Her moans get louder and louder as she feels him enjoying his time between her legs and the burning sensation moving lower and lower in her tummy. "Oh my god, I'm close- I'm so fucking close, H." She tells him, silently asking him to not stop now in a voice above her usual octave.

He simply hums against her, but that simple thing sends electric shocks up her spine. He continues humming, providing vibrations straight to her clit as his lips continue their suction on her clit, which feels to be getting sensitive as she grows closer and closer to her climax.

From where his hands were resting over her thighs, he wraps his arms like two snakes around her inner thighs and grabs a tight ahold of her ass, most probably imprinting his hand in red on the cheeks. Y/n hadn't understood the reason behind it, too lost in heaven but even there she realizes that he's pressing his mouth harder against her- suffocating himself between her thighs.

"Oh- oh Harry, fuck!" She screams his name, one of her hands going to pull against his hair to make some distance between him and her pussy because of the tight vibrations pulling the knot lower and lower in her belly too fast. Although she's pulling against him, she's also hoping that he won't budge and when he actually doesn't and groans instead, she knows she's done for it.

Her wetness drips down his fingers as he continues fucking them into her, pulling the orgasm towards his mouth because now, he's addicted to her taste for the millionth time and won't move until he has a load of her on his tongue, which can't seem to stop licking up the wetness spreading on her pussy due to finger-fucking her.

When she starts to moan his name louder and louder and he can listen that her throat has gone dry, he knows his tongue is gonna be flooded with her sweetness sooner than ever now.

He hums to encourage her, slapping her ass cheek with his other hand and that's the moment she screams his name like he's the god she's pleading to and dirties his tongue like she isn't one of the sinners in this bathroom as well. He groans when he feels the thick white liquid he had desired for, slip into his mouth through his working lips.

Removing his fingers, he passes it up at her while immediately putting in his tongue inside her wet weepy cunt, wanting every single drop of cum he can pull from her. He can hear her crying out that she's overly sensitive now and pulling on his hair strands to pull him away from her heat, but he knows that she wants him to help her ride out her orgasm as she also swirls her tongue around his two slick fingers.

When he's sure that she's clean of her own arousal now but still dirty with his tongue-traces and saliva, he finally pulls back satisfied with his work.

"Ah fuck, can never get rid of my addiction of your taste," he says, swiping his tongue across his lips and wiping the arousal around his mouth with the back of his hand. His knees crack when he stands up, making him giggle.

"Thank you for that," she grins, pressing a kiss on his stretched-out lips.

"Anything for you... and I, ahah" grins at her, before leaning in to press a small kiss on her cheek. "Think I'm a bad boy, just had my dessert before dinner," he laughs, unwrapping his hands from around her waist as she closes the tap after splashing some water on her vagina. She's walking away with her thighs slightly parted, and he knows exactly why because this has happened before- 'I'm just still sensitive,' she laughs embarrassed every time while saying that; also telling him he did a good job under a laugh.

He laughs at her as she narrows her eyes at him with a grin plastered on her lips.

Already having tied her robe around her, she helps him tie the knot of his' and just when she leaves the two strands, she makes sure to leave a lingering eye contact before turning around and walking outside with him trailing behind her.

"Guess I'll be a good girl to have my dessert after dinner," she finishes with a breathy laugh. It only gets loud when Harry mimics those men who silently hope for a payback after pleasing a woman in some way. "Wait seriously!?" He asks her in a high-pitched voice, picking her up from behind while also laughing just as hard as her. Dropping her on the bed, he bends down to place his hands on his knee to continue his laughter, as she lightly smacks him across his face.

[kelyon]

Beasts: A Golden Cuffs Story

Before the curse is cast, Rumpelstiltskin devises an amusement for Belle--a menagerie of duplicates of himself

Read on AO3

“Belle, dear, are you busy?”

Her husband’s voice drifted softly through the large dining room where Belle had set up her work. It wasn’t an impish cackle nor a triumphant boom, as it could be sometimes. He wasn’t sulking either. Whatever experiment Rumple had been tinkering with all day up in his tower hadn’t exploded in his face this time.

No, more than anything else, Rumpelstiltskin sounded hedging. Like he was checking to see if he was likely to receive a thing before he took the risk of asking for it. It was an unusual tone for the Dark One, who always named his price and got his way with everyone--except for her. Belle alone had the power to control him, a responsibility she did not take lightly. Even though she would deny her beloved nothing, it sometimes fell upon her to curb his more fantastical appetites. He knew it, that was why he was hedging. Whatever Rumple wanted, he wasn’t certain if she would give him her permission. 

All this knowledge, all this deciphering the eternal mystery of him, took Belle’s mind less time than it took her body to turn away from the table full of open books in front of her. Still sitting in her chair, she rubbed her lower back and stretched her neck.

“I think I could manage a distraction,” she said. “What are you up to?”

He came behind her, reaching around the chair to rub her shoulders. She relaxed into his touch, let him soothe away the hard work of sitting and worrying.

“I might ask you the same question.” He placed a kiss on the crown of her head while his hands worked their wonders. “What texts are you studying today?”

She reached for a solitary piece of parchment. “I had Jefferson send me a list of all the worlds he’s been to where they have stories of people who come from a land without magic.” She waved her hand at the stacks in front of her. “These books are everything the library gave me about those worlds.” She slouched back into her chair and Rumple’s hands stilled. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but there must be something useful here. Don’t you think?”

Climbing up the back of the chair, her husband  leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Then he jumped backward, landing behind her with spritely ease. Finally, he sauntered back to the table and leaned against the edge. 

“I know I’ve read all these books at some point or another and never found much. It will be good to have a second set of eyes on the task.”

“At least this way I’ll know everything you know about this new land.”

“You’ll come at it from your own angle and you will certainly see things I haven’t.” He found a clear spot and sat on the table in front of her, legs swinging in the air. “What have you found out so far?”

“It’s always children.” That was the fact that had stuck out to Belle the most. “Oz and Wonderland both have legends about little girls suddenly appearing out of nowhere and causing some ruckus or another. Other places have a boy and a girl together. Or one child will come to the land and another will follow to rescue them.” 

She pointed to one dry and weighty tome. “Every human in Narnia is from that land, or at least their descendants were. The most famous Narnian legends are about two boys and two girls, brothers and sisters, who overthrew a witch-queen and became kings and queens themselves. They’re interesting because they grew up while they were in Narnia, but one day they disappeared. Thousands of years later, the siblings came back to Narnia and--Rumple you won’t believe this--they were children again.”  

Her husband smiled at her indulgently. As much of a revelation this story had been for her, she clearly wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. 

“Time works differently between worlds,” he nodded. “That’s how I’ve been able to keep some hope alive. It was hundreds of years ago when Baelfire was fourteen. Hundreds of years ago here.”

“In the land without magic, he could be fourteen still.” Belle put her hand on Rumpelstiltskin’s leather-clad knee. He sighed.

“We have no way of knowing.” His pointed nails drummed against the table top. The frantic sound belied his calm tone of voice. “No way to know, until the curse is cast, and the Savior is old enough to break it. Even then, I’ll still have to go about finding him in that world.”

“We will.” Rising from her chair, Belle put her hand over Rumple’s nervous fingers. “Together. We will find him, or we will find someone who can.” She stood between his legs so she could hold his face in her hands and look into his eyes. “You will see your son again, Rumple. I know it with all my heart.”

He wrapped his legs around her skirt to pull her in closer to the table, closer to him. He covered her hands with his own. His touch was warm and soft.

“Your heart is wise, my darling,” he said. “If it can manage the miracle of loving me, I won’t doubt its gifts of prophecy.”

Belle smiled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They held each other for a moment, then Rumple tapped at her waist and she knew he wanted her attention. She took a step back.

“What have you been up to?” 

He’d been up in his tower all morning without interruption, which was unusual nowadays. With the curse and the threat of separation on the horizon, neither of them could bear to be away from the other for long. 

“I…” He dragged out the sound, and again Belle thought he was hedging. Her husband had the air of a child who didn’t know whether or not he was about to get into trouble. “I’ve been experimenting.”

“Yes, that is normally what you do up there.” She kept her tone placid. She had no desire to be angry with Rumpelstiltskin, and it concerned her that he thought whatever he had done might make her angry. Was she really so quick to condemn him? Or had he done something truly reckless?  “What were you experimenting with?”

He raised one hand into the air, mouth opened to speak. His fingers twitched and he made no sound.

“Rumple,” Belle said carefully. “If you didn’t want me to know, you wouldn’t have brought it up. Clearly this isn’t a secret, so what is it?”

“A surprise?” he said at last. “Will you come with me, so I can show you?”

Belle knew the expression on her face must be incredulous. Still, she took his hand and let him lead her to his tower.

As they walked the short distance to the landing, Rumple seemed to find his tongue. “It is, technically, an experiment with duplication. I wanted to make… copies.”

“Copies of what?” Belle asked when they reached the door.

Rumple didn’t answer, only led her up the spiral stairs. 

****

It was a little shameful, the way Belle yelped at what she saw in the tower. She considered herself a person of courage, not one to shirk from the unpleasant or even the horrific. True, there was nothing unpleasant or horrific about what she was looking at. And yet the thing was so startling. It was the difference between seeing a snake on the forest floor and finding one in your bed linen. Anyone would scream at the mere shock.

Lowering her hand from her mouth, she turned to her husband. “Copies of yourself?”

Because that was what stood before her. In the open space of the tower, shifting slightly from one foot to the other, was the perfect mirror of Rumpelstiltskin. When it saw her, it gave a timid smile. Rumple’s smile. It was him. The body was all lean muscle and crinkly hair and skin that shifted from gray to green to gold. The only way Belle could know that the thing in front of her wasn’t her husband was that it wasn’t speaking, and it was entirely naked.

“It’s not quite good enough to pass for genuine,” Rumple said as he circled around his creation. “Frankly, I don’t think I’d want it to be. This world wouldn’t survive more than one Dark One at a time. But they have their uses, or at least I hope they’ll prove useful.”

“They?”   

With a twirl of his wrist, Rumple undid a concealment spell and revealed that the room was full of identical duplicates. All of them were naked. All of them were silent. They didn’t move, except to tilt their heads and shift their eyes around the room. None of them seemed perturbed to have a dozen twins on either side. They were like a flock of birds roosting on the limbs of a tree. The effect wasn’t threatening, but it was unsettling.  

Belle’s first thought was to count them, to group them together in clusters of three or five and add up the sum of them. Of course, that would be folly. An exact census didn’t matter. What mattered was that there were many of them. Many, many copies of her husband.

“As I said, they are limited imitations,” Rumple said. “No magic. They don’t think and they don’t speak, so they wouldn’t be much use as decoys. If I needed someone to think I was in a certain place, it would be easier to use an illusion.”

“So… These things aren’t an illusion?” Belle’s voice came out softer than she wanted it to. She sounded frightened even though she wasn’t. “They are flesh?”

An odd light glinted in Rumple’s eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Temporary flesh, at least--another reason why they have little use outside of the castle. They tend to disintegrate if they’re put through any kind of exertion.”

Belle blinked several times as she looked out on the sea of faces that were all the same. Closest her to her was the real face, the real Rumple. Her Rumple.

“If they aren’t of any use, why did you show them to me?”

He came back to her, stood by her side. “Well they aren’t entirely a failure.” His voice lowered. “I thought they might serve as an amusement for you.”

She looked up at him skeptically. “For me?”

“They’re nothing to be afraid of.” He held her close, rubbed her arms. “Like all my magic, they are merely extensions of me. They will do as I direct them to do. Even if I allowed them more autonomy, there would be little difference in their behavior. They don’t think, but they have a kind of… bestial instinct. They want what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

Rumple didn’t answer, only gave her a knowing grin. Slowly, Belle became aware of the multitude of eyes that were focused on her. More than a dozen red tongues darted out from between more than a dozen green lips. She hadn’t looked too intimately at any of the naked Rumples, but now she could see how her presence affected them. More than a hundred fingers rubbed against each other in nervous anticipation. More than a score of hands opened and closed into fists. More than a dozen cocks were slowly becoming hard.

“You don’t have to,” Rumple assured her. “I can make all of them disappear in an instant. Or you can try one and if you decide it’s not to your liking, you can stop.” He held her wrists in his hands. He grounded her gently, kept her steady. He looked into her eyes. “You have my dagger. You are my mistress and my wife. You have all the power.”

“I know,” Belle breathed. 

She breathed through her first impression of shock. She breathed through her questions about logistics and space and her own physical endurance. She breathed through her mind’s completely rational resistance. She breathed into the dark and hidden desires of her body. The desires Rumple had always given her ways to explore.

He was still holding her. His mouth pressed against her forehead. She could feel the brush of his lips as he murmured: 

“I’ve never forgotten the fantasies you used to tell me, of being taken by a whole throng of men.”

Her womanly places clenched at the memories. It seemed so long ago, now, when Belle had worn the golden cuffs that forced her to obey the Dark One, when she had been his property and not his love. He had ordered her to touch herself every night, to let her thoughts and imaginings run wild in any direction that brought her to her peak. It hadn’t taken long for her thoughts to turn to Rumpelstiltskin, to imagine him as the only man who could pleasure her--no matter how many others exhausted themselves trying.

“I’ve only ever wanted you, Rumple.”

He stroked one finger down the length of her arm. Even that slight of a touch made her shiver. 

“You will always have me, sweetheart. If you choose to do this, you will have me in abundance.”  

The shiver morphed into a quake that shook her from head to toe. Gods, he was magnificent!

Before she said yes, Belle stepped back. She tried not to notice the wave of movement that rippled around the room as all the Rumples turned their heads to watch her. Breaking the closeness between herself and her husband gave her enough room to think. Her hands gripped his arms as she looked up at him. 

“What is the price of this magic?”

His face went soft, as it always did when she expressed concern for him. And it was him she worried about. Rumple would never let the price of magic fall on her if he could help it. Whatever sacrifice this excursion might require, he would make sure it was his to pay.

“Well, they are all me,” he began. “So it follows that any pleasure they receive will have repercussions on my body. I, uh, I will be depleted, for some time.”

That was usually how it went when he used magic in their lovemaking. For days or weeks after today, he would have to sleep and eat like an ordinary man. It might even prevent him from using his cock on her, though that was usually a trivial hurdle in his endless quest to give her pleasure.  

“And it won’t hurt you?”

“No,” he assured her. “And these things won’t hurt you. They can’t. They are beasts, but they know who their goddess is.”

Belle pressed her lips together, trying to fight the smile his words brought to her face. 

“And I’ll be here,” he went on. “You’ll never be alone with them. You can control them as easily as you control me. If you want it to stop, you just say one word and--”

“I know,” she said.

She trusted him. If she had to, she would command the power of the dagger to make him end the whole thing, but she didn’t believe she would have to.

Deliberately, she turned her back to her husband and lifted her hair away from her gown. “Will you unlace me? There is something to the idea of having my clothes ripped away by a ravenous mob, but I’m rather fond of this dress.”

His chuckle was a brief exhalation, a puff of air she felt on her bare back as Rumple undid the bindings on her gown and her corset. He stripped her until she was down to her shift, then helped her step out of the pile of clothes.

The other Rumples watched the proceedings with an intensity even greater than what they’d displayed before. They weren’t even blinking. Belle became aware of her exposed arms, the bare legs underneath her shift. The shapes of her breasts were visible through the thin silk, the hard peaks of her nipples poked out from the fabric draped across her chest. The warmth of desire in her belly was so strong, Belle knew she was already wet. Did these copies of Rumple share his supernatural senses? Could they smell her need the way he could?

Gently breaking away from her Rumple, Belle stepped into the mass of duplicates. They backed away from her as she walked among them. Again, the impression was of birds--of chickens or pigeons who were used to human company and didn’t bother to fly away. Some of their mouths gaped open. None of them touched her. 

Strange to feel so frightened and so safe at the same time. The danger was there, but it was a thrill instead of a threat. They wouldn’t hurt her, she was certain of that. What they would do with her was less certain. That uncertainty, that not-knowing, that was the force that drove Belle forward. 

When she was in the center of them, she reached down to the hem of her shift. For just a moment, she hesitated. She turned around to look for her husband. Rumple had lifted himself to the top of a high bookshelf, which would give him a good view of what was about to happen. She caught his eye, and he smiled at her. 

“You’ll be wonderful, sweetheart,” he said. “This will be your greatest triumph.” 

Belle’s heartbeat returned to something resembling a normal pace. “I love you, Rumple. No matter what happens, I love you.”

“I love you too, Belle,” he said in his most serious tone. Then he grinned.  “Now go have fun!”

In a rush of motion, Belle threw her shift over her head. She stood in front of the Rumples just as naked as they were.

All of them stood, stock-still, to look at her. Their eyes, already over-large, bulged out of their heads like golden walnuts. 

“Do I really look that ridiculous when I see you undressed?”

Belle had to laugh. “I think it’s charming,” she told Rumple. “Flattering.” 

She took a step closer to one of the copies, waited until its eyes were able to look at her face instead of her body. It looked as though it was about to cry. With as much tenderness as she could muster, Belle raised one hand and placed her palm against that Rumple’s cheek.

It froze for a moment, as overwhelmed by her touch as her husband had been the first time she had touched him. Then, slowly, it melted. It brought a shaking hand up to its face, tentatively flexing before daring to put its hand over Belle’s.

She smiled at the creature. She whispered to it, “Yes.”

Then it was like a hole had been drilled into a dam and all the water started to pour out. The Rumples surrounded her, pressed into her and rubbed against her. Each one of them was desperate just for her touch.

Belle spread her arms and let them cover her. Her hands trailed against whatever flesh they offered--across cheeks and brows and necks and chests. Her fingers curled into their hair as they pushed their heads up against her hands. Every one of them was a cat who needed to be petted.

There was no fighting for her attention. Every one of them was patient--eager, yes, but willing to wait. None of the copies under her hands lingered too long. They seemed to know intuitively when it was time to let another take a turn. This mass of bodies acted as one body, as through each of them could feel what all the others felt. Separate pieces moved as one, like birds in the air and fish in their schools. They were a herd, a flock. Rumple had been right to call them beasts. 

But they were not beastly. None of them were rough or coarse or demanding. They took from Belle only what she would give, even if they took it with hunger and need.

She didn’t know which Rumple was the first she kissed. It was a moot point, since as soon as they sensed her mouth was in play, she was suddenly kissing all of them. They crowded around her, a mess of spittle and smiles. Tongues swiped against her lips or poured into her mouth--as though they wanted her to swallow them, to consume them even while they consumed her. 

Mouths pressed against her skin. Every copy claimed for itself a section of her neck or her shoulders or her arms. They kissed her the way Rumple did--intense and possessive, biting and bruising. All this while they still craved her caresses, while they pressed and ground their bodies against her. They held her up when she became weak. As one, they moved their attentions down to her hips and her closed legs.

Already, this was more than Belle had ever imagined. She had never had so many bodies near her at once. Never had such devotion poured out onto her. Rumple was the most intense and exciting lover she could think of and now she had so many of him! And this was only the beginning. 

She moaned. 

The Rumples had been silent, even in their frenzy. They made no noises as they feasted over her. Until now, the tower had only known the soft smack of lips. The breathy sigh of her pleasure rang out like a gong. All of them heard her. All of them knew what it meant.

As one being, the duplicates redoubled their efforts against her skin. They nipped and licked and sucked at her until Belle began to shake. Pleasure rose out of her, up from her legs and in from her arms, from every point on her flesh they abused and worshiped. Belle pressed her legs together, clenching and seizing, tightening until she could be no tighter and she had no choice but to explode and scream and collapse when all the tension left her body at once. 

Instantly, the Rumples stopped. They held her upright in their many hands but made no move to use her further. Shoulders hunched, Belle rested across the chests of two or three of them as she caught her breath. 

“I thought I knew everything about orgasms,” she muttered.

“Oh, your body has always been full of surprises, my sweet.” Rumple’s voice drifted down from his place above her head.  

She blinked up at him. “Did you know I could do that?”

He grinned. “I had my suspicions. Happy to see them confirmed.” He turned serious. “How are you, sweetheart? Do you still want to keep going?”

“Are you kidding?” Belle brushed her hair away from her eyes. “We’ve only just started!”

****

Everything became a jumble after that. Belle stood on her feet and let the duplicates pass over her like water. Each of them kissed her and touched her in smooth, languid motions. None of them demanded, but all of them needed. All of them wanted.

She wanted too. 

Touch by touch, she began to open her legs to their explorations. Dozens--hundreds?--of fingers slid over her flesh. They parted her folds and swiped around her entrance. They slipped in and then out so quickly it was hard for her to be satisfied. Did they mean to tease her? Did these creatures share Rumple’s devious desire to drive her mad? 

Soon the anticipation became too much. There was a Rumple in front of her, its body looming and dark, its breath hot on the nape of her neck. It had dipped two fingers inside her and was about to pull them out as all the others had--when Belle put her hand on its wrist. She forced the creature to stay still as she ground down around its hand. 

Copies surrounded her on every side, pressing in to watch her fuck herself on their brother. Belle braced herself against that Rumple’s body, but soon found herself being held up again by dozens of hands. They understood where to place her, how she wanted to be positioned, what angles would best serve her body’s need. Soon, she wasn’t moving under her own power anymore. They were moving her. In the primal dance of push and pull, she no longer controlled her own steps. 

She moaned.

As a second orgasm came upon her, Belle tried to focus on the copy whose hand she was using. She clung to its flesh, tried to look into its eyes. She wanted to kiss it, to reward it for its service to her. 

None of that happened. The other Rumples got in the way. They took her hands, spread her arms wide so she could touch all of them. They pressed against her face, both offering kisses and demanding them. They touched her, all of them touched her. They reached out to get their hands on her, to feel even one fingertip’s worth of her feet or her thigh. Arms spread her legs and fingers spread her cunt. There was always something filling her, touching her, teasing her. No less than four hands were on her breasts, pinching at her nipples and manhandling her soft flesh.  

Belle’s teeth chattered. Her hips rolled in that oh-so-familiar rhythm. She began to writhe, and all the creatures writhed with her. Their bodies moved in the same way, the in-and-out pace that always grew faster. They moved with her and she moved with them and all of them were waves in the same ocean. All of them--herself included--moved together to the ancient beat of lust. 

They surrounded her, after she came a third time. The Rumples that held her moved her away from the one who had fucked her. Her legs were splayed open and they poured into the space, sniffing the air and licking their lips.

They were dogs on the hunt now. Wolves that had tasted blood. 

She didn’t know which one of them was the next to penetrate her. She couldn’t be sure if it was using fingers or a cock. All she knew was a sudden fullness where she had briefly been empty. All she knew was an insistent pressure on her clitoris. All she knew was the quaking, clenching pleasure that wracked through her body.  

Then the same thing, the same mania, happened again.

And again. 

And again.

Over and over, the orgasms crashed against her, so many of them and so quickly there wasn’t time to take a breath between the end of one and the start of the other. Did any of them end? She couldn’t breathe. Would there ever be an end to all of them? She had never come so many times before, not in all her experiences with Rumple. Would she ever breathe again? She couldn’t breathe!

Pushing past the throng, Belle fell to her knees and held up a hand. From deep within her, she found the strength to cry out:

“Stop!”  

And it stopped. 

All of them stopped.

Rumple was by her side. Her Rumple. Her husband. He knelt beside her. His hands reached out, but he didn’t touch her.

“Belle! Sweetheart, what do you need?”

“Just--” Her voice shook. Her body shook. She gasped for breath, trying to talk even while her body was in the throes of a thousand orgasms. “--A moment.”

She kept her eyes closed and let herself shake. Belle moaned through the pleasure. Without anything touching her, she groaned and throbbed from one orgasm to another. She let the sensations go through her, let the motions dissipate. They became less and less with every convulsion. The storm passed through her body. The sea became calm again.

Blinking, Belle opened her eyes. Her husband was still kneeling in front of her. The copies were behind him, all around the two of them in a loose circle. Rumple’s face was nothing but concern. Belle smiled.

“Oh good,” she said. “You didn’t get rid of them.”

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a cautious grin. “You still want them?”

Slowly, carefully, Belle nodded. She may have been temporarily overwhelmed, but she was by no means defeated.

“I haven’t even touched their cocks yet, and I have two holes left to ruin.”

****

From her place on the ground, Belle was at an excellent height to explore the bodies of her multitude of lovers. After Rumple left her side, they surrounded her again. Belle found herself in a thick, green forest of legs and cocks.

She reached out to those who were closest, two at the same time. Lazy fingers trailed up and down the hard lengths--which grew considerably harder and longer under her attention. The others pressed in, but she stayed focused on the matters at hand. She brushed her fingers against their scrotums, using one hand on each of them, the same motion at the same time. Both Rumples gave the same tight hiss of pleasure. 

Gently, she pulled them in closer to her. They were both in front of her now, standing side by side. She squeezed the shafts, felt the twin hardnesses inside the sheathes of silky flesh. She pulled down the dark green skin to reveal the golden-green tips. The sight made her mouth water. She knew her husband’s cock so well, it was strange to see it doubled.

Strange, and exciting.

Still pumping the cocks, Belle licked her lips. They were close enough together, she could easily go back and forth between the two of them. 

Or she could try something new.

She positioned the cocks close enough together that the tips were almost touching. Then she leaned forward on her knees, and flicked her tongue into the space between them. Both of the chosen Rumples stiffened at the sudden contact. Belle felt the rush of their arousal against the palms of her hands. 

A deep breath before she began. The gods alone knew what these beasts would do to her mouth once they understood they were permitted. Belle wasn’t afraid. She had already proven she could stop them, even if they went into a frenzy. If everything went well, she would be a part of the frenzy. She would be one with the lust-crazed animals that surrounded her.

Just the thought of it sent a billowing warmth of pleasure up through her.

Experimentally opening her mouth as wide as she could, Belle leaned forward again to her new favorite cocks. She kissed both tips at the same time. She licked, back and forth across their lengths. She sucked both of them into her mouth at once.

Only the heads at first. With double the width she was used to, that was all she could manage for a while. Even that was a triumph. She pulled away, while keeping her hands on them. Long, thin strings of spittle connected her to the copies.

The other Rumples looked down at the three of them. Dozens of eyes blazed with dark fire. They scowled and bared their teeth. Their own cocks were so long and hard it looked painful.

“Jealous,” Belle said wryly. “You’re all jealous. But you’ll all get a turn.”

Then she set back to the first two. Now she held both cocks in one hand, so it was easier to wrap her lips around them. The two Rumples had to stand almost on top of each other, but they didn’t seem to mind. Belle bobbed her head up and down over them, sinking deeper down their lengths with every stroke.

It had taken her weeks to be able to fit Rumple in her throat. She had no expectation that she could take two of him on the first try. But she had to know, didn’t she? She had to explore what she was capable of. She had to see how much pleasure she could give, as well as how much she could receive. 

She managed to get halfway down their shafts before it became too much and she started something new. Compared to taking them both at once, going back and forth between the two was effortless. This was, after all, exactly the cock she was most familiar with swallowing whole. The cock that felt like it was made to be inside her, the cock she felt empty without. 

A hand pressed against the back of her head, pushing her closer to the Rumple in her mouth. Without a moment’s thought, Belle let herself go limp and loose. She let the many hands hold her, let them jerk her back and forth. She let a copy of her husband fuck her throat.

Closing her eyes, Belle let herself be taken. She floated in that soft and lovely space where she was utterly helpless, but utterly protected. This was like the times when Rumple tied her up in his golden thread. She had no strength, but she needed no strength. The bondage gave her all the structure she needed. 

During their games, he would take all the might, all the power, that was normally inside her, and put it somewhere outside of her, some external force that she trusted absolutely. Sometimes that force was Rumple himself, in the pain and control she allowed him to exert on her. Sometimes it was the method by which she had been bound and rendered immobile--whether that was magic or mundane ropes and chains and shackles. Now, the external force was the duplicates. They controlled her, they supported her. They could do as they liked with her and she trusted them without question. 

As it had been with her cunt, it was now with her mouth, each one of them dipped in and out and was quickly replaced. They passed her around between them, holding her body upright and keeping her mouth open. Whichever ones weren’t inside her were all around her, fondling and kissing, teasing and titillating. They sucked at her nipples, at her throat, at every bit of flesh she presented to them. They squeezed into whatever spaces could be pried between herself and whichever Rumple was in her mouth. 

Soon, Belle felt the rhythm again. All their bodies began to move faster together. This time, however, the rush wasn’t coming from herself. It was the copies--all or a few or only one of them, she couldn’t tell. A tension permeated the air around them, a heat they all felt at the same time.

One Rumple pressed itself to the front and boldly pushed its brother out of the way. Belle’s lips were still shaped around one cock when another jammed into her. The impatient Rumple gripped its fingers into Belle’s scalp. Its long claws pressed into her skin, teasing pinpricks of pain. 

Thrusting and jerking, forceful for the first time, that lone duplicate pounded into Belle’s head. She kept herself slack, let it have its way with her. With a joy that defied all logic, Belle submitted to a lust even greater than her own.

The Rumple began to shake and shudder. Knowing what would happen next, Belle sucked deeply on its cock. Her cheeks hollowed and the Rumple clutched at her, and before she knew it her throat was burning with a sudden pulse of her husband’s hot seed. 

Then the cock was gone, and Belle could breathe for a moment. She needed a moment.  

She had swallowed most of the semen, but a few drops dribbled out of her mouth and landed on her thigh. Dazed, Belle focused on them. Rumple’s beautiful black leavings contrasted with the flushed pink of her skin. She had always liked the taste of him, earthy and metallic, both natural and supernatural. She rubbed her fingertip into the small dots, rubbed the very essence of him all over her body. It left a sheen of glimmering gold.

She looked up at the Rumples all around her. They had stilled in their passion--it seemed they had learned how much she needed to recover between climaxes--but their ardor hadn’t flagged. Every one of them was still ramrod straight and flushed with expectation. 

Curious, Belle looked around for the one copy that had all its expectations satisfied. It should be easy enough to find one flaccid cock in the midst of all these erections, shouldn’t it?

“What are you looking for, darling?”

“The one that just came.” Belle rubbed her hand over her thigh. “I don’t see it. Did something happen to it?”

“Ah,” Rumple said. “Well, you may recall that these things don’t do well under exertion?”

He had said something about that, hadn’t he? It was why these duplicates had little use outside the castle. 

“You said they disintegrate.”

“Yes, that is broadly the case. Apparently the method of disposal depends somewhat on the specific manner of exertion.”

Belle’s tongue swept the inside of her mouth while she thought. She could still taste the Rumple who had come inside her.

“It’s when they orgasm, isn’t it?” She looked up at Rumple on his high shelf. “After that, they leave nothing behind but--”

“A sticky mess,” her husband finished for her.  

“Is that the only way to get rid of them?”

“Hardly the only way,” he said, “but it is by far the most entertaining.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “You’re enjoying this? Watching me get fucked?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Belle pushed herself off the ground, stretching her legs as she stood up. “Because I’m going to finish off every last one of them.”

****

She’d had three cocks in her at once before--well, two cocks and her friend Leona’s glass dildo. That had been a moment of intense but quiet intimacy. Before Rumple was brave enough to tell her that he loved her, he could only show it through elaborate gestures of fucking. Perhaps that was what he was doing now. Perhaps he was trying to tell her something that he couldn’t put into words.

Perhaps. 

There would be time to think on that later. Right now the duplicates all looked to be one moment away from tearing her apart. Her heart raced at the sight of more than a dozen pairs of Rumple’s eyes, black with lust, almost crazed. All of them stared at her, teeth bared, blood high. A pack of dogs who had a deer backed into a corner, but who were trained well enough to wait for the command before they attacked. Belle was the deer, but she was also the only person in the world who could command them.

So she did.

She gave a nod and all of them rushed toward her at once. A tide of Rumples pushed her into a shore of Rumples. The ones behind her fondled her and opened her and prepared her for the onslaught. 

At first, it was enough to be between two bodies, enough to brace herself against one Rumple while another plowed into her as she stood. But soon the one behind her had a finger in her ass. It took the wetness from her well-pleased cunt and spread her open with both hands.

“Oh,” she moaned as it filled her with its cock. 

It was always such a unique pleasure, to have her ass fucked. It felt darker than when something was in her cunt.  It felt lower. If her body was an instrument, this act produced notes of an entirely different key. With both holes filled at once, Belle’s pleasure was in harmony with itself. Her moans and grunts and shrieks sang into the tower, music that kept time through the steady thumps of bodies banging together.    

An orgasm went through her, so powerful it made her knees week. She sank to the ground with the Rumples still inside her. They went down with her, undeterred, and stayed focused on their task. This time, it was the same two throughout it all. The duplicates didn’t sample her quickly and make way for the others, as they had before. They seemed to know, with their bestial intelligence, that it was finally time for their completion. Each one of them would have her body for as long as it took for that one to orgasm and disappear. 

Now that she was on her knees, it was only a matter of time before one of the Rumples came up to her mouth. It didn’t force her or even lay a hand on her. It stood by patiently, until Belle was ready to welcome it. She turned her head and did so, with a smile and a kiss to the tip. Then then cock pushed past her lips. 

Belle closed her eyes and let the three of them use her. Her own orgasms seemed superfluous at this point. The jerking and clenching of her body happened with little reaction from the Rumples or even from herself. With her mouth full, she couldn’t scream and moan. With each Rumple driving into her, her spasms became lost in the chaos. Even in her own mind, Belle was so overwhelmed with sensations from outside herself she could barely register what was happening inside.

One of the Rumples came. A burst of heat inside her ass and then the creature was gone. Quickly, another came to replace it. This one didn’t have to reach into her wetness for lubrication. Its cock slid in smoothly using nothing but the seed of its brother. 

The one in her cunt pulsed too, hot and wet. The next Rumple took a moment to dive head-first between her legs. It lapped up the leavings and ravenously feasted on Belle’s flesh until she came hard enough to almost snap the copy’s neck between her thighs. It stood up after that, furiously pumping at its cock. So it was going to come on her, instead of in her. Rumple liked to do that sometimes. Belle’s first instinct was to do what she did with her husband--display her body and open her mouth, ready herself to relish his seed like it was a refreshing ocean spray. But her mouth was already open wide and full of cock. Her body was already covered with hands. 

This copy didn’t seem to mind all that. It spurted thick, black lines that covered the other duplicates just as much as it covered Belle. The lines went up from her stomach to her face and spattered anything that got in between. 

She didn’t see the Rumple disappear. It was just gone, and then there was another. This one rushed into her cunt, started pounding her backwards into the Rumple in her ass. The motion was so sudden, the cock in her mouth popped out. That Rumple had to hold her head to make sure she stayed where it wanted her. 

Again, Belle felt the beauty of being powerless in her own body. It was as though she were a figure made of wax, that went soft and pliant in the heat until it melted into a pool and ran out all over everything. In this moment, she was nothing but liquid, thin enough to spread over every one of the Rumples. They used her, they took her, they made her come then came themselves, inside and outside and all around her until there was nothing to her but bodily fluids. 

Rumples filled her orifices, filled her hands. They rubbed and rutted against whatever soft parts of her they could find. One by one, they exploded in bursts of pleasure that covered her in hot blackness. One by one, they disappeared. 

She didn’t even realize she was down to the last one until it was almost finished. The copy had gotten her on her back, on the floor of the tower, in a puddle of cooling lust. Belle kept her eyes closed, partially from exhaustion and partially because the black goo on her face had stuck her eyelids together as it dried. 

This Rumple seemed to understand how lucky it was to have her to itself. It threw her legs over its shoulders and pushed into her, long and deep. Belle had been so overworked, so touched and so teased, that feeling nothing but slow, powerful thrusts was exactly the balm she needed. The creature braced itself by grabbing her shoulders. Its fingernails dug into her flesh. The sharp pain contrasted beautifully with all the pleasures she’d received today.

Belle shook and throbbed, exhausted to her marrow. She lay back and let the Rumple work in her. Overdone as she was, she barely noticed when it was gone. All she knew was the sound of boots on the floor beside her. All she knew was a warm blanket over her shoulders, wrapped around her body. All she knew was strong arms picking her up and holding her.

“Do you want a bath now or do you want to sleep first?” Her husband’s tone was all cheerful business. The voice he used when he was confident in his control, when everything had gone well.

“Rumple…” Belle breathed. She nuzzled into his embrace as he carried her down the stairs. 

“That’s not an answer, little one.”

Her teeth chattered as she worked up the energy to say a single word. Her body shook, but she managed to stammer out, “B-bed.”

“Very good.” Rumple pushed away a stiff lock of her hair to kiss her on the forehead. “You perfect girl. You were astounding today.”

All Belle could do was groan. 

Their bedroom was at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the tower. It was a lush, luxurious room, furnished in gold and royal blue. Gently, Rumple placed her on a bed the size of a peasant’s cottage. 

We could have brought them here, Belle thought but didn’t have the strength to say. It might have been more comfortable than fucking on the floor.   

Even as she thought it, she knew that Rumple had made the right decision in having the orgy in the tower instead of their marriage bed. This was a space for just the two of them. This was where she slept, where Rumple stayed beside her through most nights. There were a thousand rooms in this castle, and Rumple had fucked her in every one of them. Those were the rooms for experiments, for daring proposals with other people. Not here. Not in the very heart of their love.

“We won’t do a full bath, but I am going to clean you up a bit.”

A warm, wet cloth pressed to her face. Belle breathed in the scent of lavender soap and felt a little of the exhaustion lift from her spirit. Rumple rubbed at her cheeks and her mouth, anywhere that had gotten dirty. With small, delicate strokes, he wiped the dried fluids from her eyelids.

Blinking, Belle opened her eyes and looked at his face. She had seen so many copies of that face today, but there was nothing better than the original. Rumple smiled at her, gentle and warm.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Oh, Belle.” His tone was just as hushed. 

He said no more for the moment. He focused on his task of wiping her down. The semen had dried gray-gold on her skin, a residue that covered her in glittering splotches. Belle looked down at herself and grinned. She put her hand over her husband’s to stop him. 

“Look,” she said softly. “I look like you.”

Rumple’s expression was rueful, but all he said was, “You’re much prettier, my love.”

She lay back on the feather mattress and let him tend to her. When he got to her cunt, he infused the cloth with fresh heat. It soothed her aching, well-used flesh.

“Oh that’s good,” she sighed. “You’re so good to me, Rumple.”

He wrapped her up in the blanket again, then lay beside her and gathered her into his arms. The candles in the room had been bright when he needed to see her, but now they went dim.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked her.

“You know I did,” she snuggled into him. “You saw me have probably a hundred good times today.”

He squeezed her. “Your pretty throat will be sore tomorrow, from all the screaming you did.”

“That won’t be all that’s sore,” Belle grinned. “It’s a good thing using this much magic will put you out of commission for a few days. I will certainly need the rest.”

“You’ll get your rest,” he promised her. “For as long as I can, I will give you everything you need.”

There was an odd distance to his voice. Belle heard it even through her haze of pleasure. 

“You’re talking about more than just tonight.”

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Why did I have to fall in love with such a clever and perceptive woman?”

She snorted. A woman who wasn’t clever and perceptive never would have fallen in love with him. If you didn’t make an effort to find all the good parts of Rumpelstiltskin, it was easy to think they weren’t there. 

Groaning, Belle pulled herself up to recline on their mountain of pillows. “What’s going on, Rumple? What’s this ‘for as long as you can’?”

He didn’t look at her. “It is only… with the curse coming. And… before that…”

Belle pressed her lips together. Oh. That was what he meant. It was a part of their plan: To have even a hope of shielding himself from the curse, he would need to be in a place secured from dark magic when it happened. Secured by light magic, which of course the Dark One could not touch. The plan was to trick Snow White and Prince Charming into thinking they had outwitted him, so that they would capture him and keep him in a prison where his magic--and Regina’s--would be useless. Belle would make her own way to the relative safety of Snow White’s kingdom, but she would have to keep a low profile. No one on the side of righteousness  could know of her connection to the monster locked away in their deepest dungeon. 

It would be months before they saw each other again, and longer still once the curse was cast.

She laced her fingers through her husband’s. The gold of their wedding rings glinted in the candlelight. Those rings had once been the cuffs that kept her in bondage to the Dark One. Now they were the physical symbol of their bond to each other. All the love in their hearts, minds, and bodies was poured into two small bands of gold and straw and magic.

“It will be alright,” Belle said. “We will be together again. Even if we have to wait until the curse breaks.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure we’re married in the next world,” Rumple murmured. “For all the good it will do. That world will be designed to make us miserable, our worst selves.” He squeezed her hand tightly. Surely he was thinking of what his worst self might be.

A shudder went through Belle at the same thought. Her worst self, married to Rumple’s worst self, frozen in time that moved but never progressed. They would have twenty-eight years to bring out the worst in each other, to prey on each others’ insecurities and draw out each other’s viciousness. All the intimacies they shared now in happiness and trust--how could they be twisted into misery? All the ways she knew Rumple, all the ways he knew her, those were vulnerabilities freely given that could become points of weakness, places to attack.

They loved each other so much. They could hurt each other so badly.  

“It won’t be forever,” she assured him, assured them both. “The Savior will come, the curse will break, we’ll be together, and we will find your son. We will, Rumple!”

“I know.” He held her again, patted her soothingly. “I know we’ll find him. If only there were fewer steps in between. If only there were fewer opportunities for you to be hurt.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“And I don’t want to be alone,” she said. “But this is the way it must be.”

There was a moment of silence. When Rumple spoke, there was a hint of impishness in his voice. “Well…”

“What?” She sat up to look at him. “What is your scheme, Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Well, now that we know how well the duplicates work, I could make more, before I’m called away from you.”

Belle blinked. “Is that why you made them in the first place? Was it always your plan to leave me with a dozen copies to play at being my husband? Like some kind of--of harem, like they have in the palaces of Agrabah? Was that your thought?”

“My thought was not to let you be alone.” He ignored her slight teasing and spoke seriously. “If you wish it, my Belle, I would give you an army of protectors and companions and bed-mates. Anything to make this easier for you.”

She slid close to him, wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she said. “I love that you care for me so much, that you would offer me this gift. But listen to me when I tell you this: A thousand copies would not give me one-tenth the joy I have with you. In my bed, by my side, in every possible way--I want you, and you alone. Any substitution would be bittersweet at best. It would only make me miss you all the more.”     

“Belle,” he whispered. He pulled her close and kissed her.

Of all the kisses she had received that day, of all the ways her mouth had been used and abused by so many imitations of her husband, this genuine moment was by far her favorite. The curse wouldn’t change that, separation wouldn’t change that. Loneliness and secrets and a thousand other trials wouldn’t come between Belle and her love for her one and only Rumpelstiltskin. 

She had to believe that.

[dustedmagazine]

Amy Rigby — Hang in There with Me (Tapete)

Photo by Chris Sikich

“Yeah, yeah, age is just a number. Bullshit…I don’t want age to be just a number, I want all the experiences we’ve been through to add up to something” wrote Amy Rigby in a June 2024 newsletter. That sentiment resounds on Hang in There with Me, her latest album of tough, witty rock and roll. In “Hell-Oh Sixty” the loose, boisterous song that kicks it off, Rigby reviews in brief each decade of her, more or less, adult life: “30 was the best/30 was the worst/know I was blessed/thought I was cursed”; “50 didn’t fit/had to let out the seams.” The music has a spaciousness to match the timeline: jangling steel strings slide over martial drums while fuzzy synthesizers burst and Rigby repeats the title phrase. She sounds both invigorated and uneasy; a little bit triumphant and a little bit daunted by her arrival.

Lyrically, Hang in There with Me often speaks to the stacked layers of life; the emotional and material detritus we accumulate. What to do with it? How to build on top of it; where, even, to begin. One answer: wherever you are, that’s where to start. Or, as Rigby puts it in the sunny, biting kiss-off anthem “Bricks,” “I’m working on my future days…these bricks won’t lay themselves.” You hear that weary, still defiant tone again on “Too Old To Be So Crazy,” when she sings “I tried a thousand times to give it up/fall down and fuck it up/you can call it a victory/trust the mystery” and in the “Requiem” lines “try your whole life to make something that matters…doors don’t always open/that won’t stop you hoping.” Later, around the “Paint It Black”-ish progression of the latter, she raises the stakes on Neil Young’s longevity question, wondering whether it’s better to “fall apart” than “to burn out.” There’s no question of fading away when you have so much to sort through.

It’s appropriate, then, that the music is so textured and dimensional. “Too Old to Be So Crazy” is a good example. Coming in hot after “Hell-Oh Sixty,” we get yet more jangle; more ripping guitar; and, perhaps best of all, more squelchy-gorgeous synths. The use of electronics on the album is pronounced and varied, from the windy swirls and blinking bells of the wistful “O Anjali” to the scratchy fringes and reverse reverb of the unsettling character study “Bad In A Good Way.” Nearly haptic sounds like these constantly whir and bubble up around the album’s glammy grooves, complementing the sharp but unfastened playing – take, for instance, the heavy buzz that drives the chorus of “Dylan in Dubuque.” It all hangs together thanks to a lively, naturalistic mix. Rigby, with her spouse and recording partner “Wreckless Eric” Goulden, left in all the right mic-to-amp ambience. There’s enough room to hear everything going on but not so much that it isolates or chills the warmth of any given instrument. Even something like the compression effect on Rigby’s “Heart Is a Muscle” vocal feels lived in.

One of the least adorned songs is “Bangs,” a punky piece of garage pop that contains some of the record’s best lines. Which is saying something. Rigby the writer is, as usual, funny and cutting, casual yet precise, but it’s the conviction with which she lays down a couplet like “keep your Ann Taylor and Chico’s/I didn’t come here to play” in her burned-but-not-burned-out, scuffed diamond voice that makes her lyrics really stick. It’s her humor, too, that keeps an album so concerned with the existential pulls and shoves of life so grounded.

In that regard, “Last Night’s Rainbow,” the closer, is particularly effective. Rigby opened for Warren Zevon in the last years of his life and Hang in There with Me’s final song shares something of his comic grandiosity and tragic gravitas. She begins with “today is shit/today’s a bust…” and ends “...and I must hold on…’cause I sure would miss seeing you.” Here, like in so much of Zevon’s work, relentless joie de vivre shines through the bummers. Sure, life’ll kill ya, but you already knew that and Rigby does too, so what now? Hang in There with Me catalogs a lifetime of drags, uncertainties and disasters, but returns, again and again, to the people, moments and experiences that make it worthwhile, or bearable enough. The chuckle in her voice on “maybe there’s hope/’cause last night’s rainbow/that was dope” tells you everything you need to know. It all adds up.

Alex Johnson

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

You have to wonder what it would take to get House and Senate Republicans to get off their collective duffs and walk across their respective cloak rooms to smell the proverbial coffee. City after city after city in Ukraine has been leveled by Russian artillery and rockets.  The port of Mariupol is a shell of its former self.  Large areas of Kharkiv, Ukraine’s second-largest city, are in rubble.  Bakhmut doesn’t exist anymore.  There isn’t a square mile of Ukraine from Kharkiv in the north through Dnipro and Zaporizhzhia, all the way to Kherson on the coast of the Black Sea that hasn’t been severely damaged if not utterly destroyed by Russia’s war of aggression.

Wait.  Let’s stop right there.  I’ve been writing words like these for nearly two years about the war in Ukraine, and they accurately convey what has happened in the war.  So do Ukraine’s numbers of the dead and wounded, both military and civilian.  But sitting here in Northeast Pennsylvania, or more to the point, in a limestone and marble building in Washington, D.C., there is no way to adequately conceive of the horror Russia has wrought in the country that stands between it and Europe. 

We in the United States don’t have cities that have had to be rebuilt or great expanses of cemeteries in which are buried the civilian dead of wars.

From 1939 to 1945, Nazi Germany wreaked havoc through Europe all the way to the outskirts of Leningrad and Moscow.  When I lived in Germany in the 1950’s and took trips with my parents through Germany and France and Italy, you could still see the damage done in World War II.  Churches from the 13th and 14th centuries in small towns lay in ruins with maybe a single stone wall still standing.  City after city still had not finished cleaning up the rubble from bombings and artillery shelling.  I still have images in my mind of old women in long dresses with headscarves stacking bricks along the sides of blown-up streets in Stuttgart as we drove through on our way to visit friends stationed at an army post in Baumholder.   

Today, having seen the damage wrought by World War II in Western Europe as a boy, it’s hard for me to transfer those images through 65 years to Ukraine, but there they are:  new photographs and videos of similar destruction only a thousand or so miles from the destroyed cities I saw in the 1950s.  We founded the United Nations in 1945 and NATO in 1949 in an attempt by nations that gathered together to try to ensure that the horrors the world had just been through did not happen again.  There was a hope years ago that we wouldn’t have wars if they could be adequately described and remembered. But here we are, looking at our televisions and phone and computer screens at the tragic images all over again. 

All this because one man, Vladimir Putin, went to bed one night and woke up the next morning and said he wanted to invade Ukraine and make it part of Russia.  It didn’t matter to him how much damage such an invasion would wreak, how many lives it would take, just like it didn’t matter to Hitler what it would cost for him to remake Europe in his own image. 

We in the United States don’t have cities that have had to be rebuilt or great expanses of cemeteries in which are buried the civilian dead of wars. Maybe that is why it’s all so abstract for us. On a continent thousands of miles away from the war that happened in Europe 80 years ago or even the war that is happening in Ukraine right now, today, this minute, it’s someone else’s history, it’s someone else’s problem.

That appears to be the attitude of the Republican Party.  Here is a political party that for decades stood for the defense of our nation and the defense of liberty around the world, and now under the thumb of a so-called leader who is now fully showing his totalitarian nature, many Republicans in the House and the Senate have decided all that is in the past.  Ukraine is Europe’s problem.  Aides and advisers to Donald Trump have already begun to talk about withdrawing from NATO if he is elected. The Heritage Foundation is hosting a meeting between Republicans on Capitol Hill and advisors to Hungary’s Viktor Orban, a close Putin ally, as Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy heads to the White House to make a last-ditch plea for funding before year's end. 

If Putin believes Ukraine is not a sovereign nation but a part of Ukraine, well, that’s Ukraine’s problem, not ours, say some Republicans led by Donald Trump and the Heritage Foundation. They express admiration for Putin and the way he runs things in Russia. They say, he knows how to get things done. Donald Trump wants to be like him.  He is telling us if he is elected, he will be a dictator on “day one” so he can build his wall, apparently by fiat, and “drill drill drill,” even in national monuments and parks.

Republicans are falling in line behind Trump.  That’s what’s going on with the refusal by Republicans to fund the war in Ukraine unless Democrats go along with changes in policies on the border that would effectively build the wall Trump failed to build, not with concrete and steel, but with draconian immigration laws.

Republicans and their putative leader profess to be unconcerned by what would happen if Ukraine runs out of money and artillery shells and rockets and anti-missile batteries that defend Kyiv and other cities.  They are unmoved by the scenes of destruction caused by Russian shelling and rockets.  They are unmoved by the scenes of mass graves in Bucha and Izium and the reports of the Russian murders that filled them with bodies of dead civilians.

Let me tell you what is happening in Ukraine while the Republican thumb-twiddler caucus turns its head and votes the way Donald Trump tells them to vote.  All along the 600-mile front line, Ukrainian soldiers are being killed by Russian artillery, rockets and drone strikes every day.  They launch attacks across muddy fields from makeshift bunkers where they defend themselves from Russian shelling.  They have no heat. All around them lie the ruins of whatever city they’re defending, all the way from the Russian border to the Black Sea. In Dnipro, where some of the heaviest fighting is going on, it’s freezing, in the low 30’s at night, mid 30’s during the day.  It will be 35 on Tuesday and 36 on Wednesday.  It will warm up to 47 degrees Fahrenheit on Thursday and rain all that day and part of Friday, making fields and forests even more difficult to move through, slowing resupply convoys, even preventing drone overflights of Russian positions by Ukrainian forces that need the surveillance and intelligence the drones provide.

Conditions for soldiers on the front lines are miserable in the extreme, and conditions in Ukrainian cities are not much better.  Russian attacks on energy infrastructure have caused blackouts and no heat in Kyiv and Kharkiv and other large population centers.  Trucks filled with dead and wounded soldiers keep coming from the front lines.  The wounded need medical care, and the dead need to be buried. 

In Washington, D.C., it will be in the high 40s and mid-’50s this week, perfect weather for members of the House and Senate to call an Uber and take a ride into Georgetown to dine at their favorite restaurant on veal scallopini or sushi or fresh-caught Chilean sea bass, a favorite at high end restaurants right now.  Tomorrow, they can hold press conferences in the Rotunda of the Capitol and speak defiantly about how they are standing fast against President Biden’s demand for help with funding Ukraine’s war against Russian aggression.  A few of them have even talked about a “war on our southern border” that must be funded before they will approve funds for the real war in Ukraine.

There is no war on our southern border, nor are there problems on our northern border, which some Republican members of Congress have also cited as one of their excuses for not funding Ukraine.  Next, we’ll be hearing about the “threat from Canada” in the ignorant babble from Republicans on Capitol Hill and the few Republican candidates left on the hustings nibbling like ducks at the crumbs from Trump’s table.

This is a time of disgrace for the United States of America, that we are sitting here on a continent thousands of miles away from the war fought by Ukraine to defend its democracy and its existence from Russia and the threat it will pose to the rest of Europe if Ukraine does not prevail in its war against Russian aggression.

Putin won’t stop with Ukraine.  He’s already got allies in Belarus and Hungary, and Russia is funding right-wing political movements in other European states as we speak.  But that’s okay with Republicans who plan on electing Trump as president, and he will pull all U.S. funding for NATO and all U.S. troops out of Europe, so they can push for tax cuts based on all our savings from our abject failure to be the leading defender of democracies around the world.

Ask any Republican planning to vote for Trump in 2024, and they’ll tell you:  Who needs to defend democracy at home and abroad when they’ve put a man who grins approvingly as he uses the word “dictator” in a sentence talking about himself?

Lucian K. Truscott IV, a graduate of West Point, has had a 50-year career as a journalist, novelist and screenwriter. He has covered stories such as Watergate, the Stonewall riots and wars in Lebanon, Iraq and Afghanistan. He is also the author of five bestselling novels and several unsuccessful motion pictures. He has three children, lives in rural Pennsylvania and spends his time Worrying About the State of Our Nation and madly scribbling in a so-far fruitless attempt to Make Things Better. You can read his daily columns at luciantruscott.substack.com and follow him on Twitter @LucianKTruscott and on Facebook at Lucian K. Truscott IV.

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

janet lubelle short fic

fuck you *re-butches your Lubelle*

~

Five reps and four rests, that’s the optimal quantity for peak muscle performance. A drink of water placed at the exact point where rehydration becomes key, while not distracting from the ongoing workout. She slings a towel over one shoulder and pushes back her medium hair with the other; sweat-slick and shiny from released molecules. “Anything for me?”

“This gym is coming together so nicely,” Blake says from the doorway. “You should let me use it sometime.” 

“Blake,” Janet coos. She wipes her face on her shirt and reaches for the equipment wipes. “When I ask you a question, it’s because I want an answer to it, mm-kay? See, what is a question if not an answer waiting to happen? That is the reason why I asked it, and I do not appreciate you trying to derail it, however nicely you might say... whatever it is you have to say instead of answering my question.” 

Blake blinks at her. “Okay. I have a report on those so-called angels.” 

“Excellent. Any initial findings?” 

“Um, they all call themselves Erika. Initial hypothesis is some form of religious ritual. Swearing off individuality, and all of that. Which may be why they call themselves angels, as well.” He clicks a pen and proffers it, but Janet ignores him as she fishes one of of her labcoat, folded neatly on a chair in the corner. “We wanted to run some tests on the radiation levels over there, but the machine is acting up again.

“I’ll fix it.” She adds that to her notes. Their campus is so close to the “angelic” residence that if there were any radiation, one of them would certainly have noticed by now. “Wrap this up quickly, please. I’d like to change before the meeting.”

“Oh, right. The radio host.” Blake extracts a sheet of paper from his stack and passes it to her. “So today I learned they have a kid. Esteban David Palmer-Scientist. Five years old. There’s a rumor around town that he can see the future. His teachers have him in some special course.”

Given that she listens to the radio, the existence of Esteban is not a surprise. It’s the information that comes afterwards that causes Janet to raise her medium-width eyebrows. “Really? What does Carlos think about that?”

“I have no idea.”

Under her breath, Janet curses this sabbatical. That she would ever let such a bright mind out of her sight; that she had allowed Carlos to tarnish his brilliance and descend into the softness and insanity of Night Vale. It was grad school all over again, where he’d always forget to do his half of the group projects as he got distracted on something else of his own. She drums her fingers on her clipboard.

“Tell you what,” she says finally. “I’ll shower later and take another look at the machine right now. In the meantime, can you go get me a nitro cold brew and a few more of those rumors. For as much as the Night Valeans distrust you, they might let some things slip if you play nice and don’t talk too much.” 

“They don’t have nitro cold brew here. There isn’t a Starbucks.”

“There isn’t a Starbucks?” She chuckles to herself and digs in the pockets of her cargo shorts. “This town really is strange. Fine, whatever iced coffee you can find, with oh, maybe 250 mg of caffeine? Uh huh, that sounds nice. Here you go. Bye bye now.”

Blake takes the cash. “One of these day’s you’ll say thank you,” he quips, before leaving. Janet shrugs on her labcoat and takes a seat on one of the elliptical machines, glancing over the paperwork in her hands. The photo of Esteban, along with the report about this ridiculous “future-seeing”, goes into her manila envelope, the one she’s barely let out of her sight. Her file on Cecil Palmer is growing thicker by the day. Maybe soon, she can start crafting some theories. 

“Everything needs an explanation,” she says, and she pulls out the snapshot at the bottom of the file. Confused brown eyes stare back at her from a picture, ten years younger and a thousand times more logical. Janet feels her own eyes narrow at the sight. “Don’t you agree, Carlos?”