#my most labor intensive closet play yet

[demonslayedher]

I've done Sumiko

I've done Inoko

Now make way for Zenko!!!!

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Twelve

Prompt: Closet Sex

Pairing: Asmodeus/Reader (Obey Me)

TW: Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Violence/Dismemberment, Jealousy, Claustrophobia, and Unhealthy Mindsets.

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

Maybe, in another situation, you would’ve believed him. Asmodeus didn’t have a reason to lie to you, he wouldn’t lie to you. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, putting both his pride and his insecurity on display for the world to see, and even if he could be subtle, he’d never been that subtle. You must’ve missed something. There must’ve been an expression you haven’t noticed, a conversation you hadn’t caught the underlying purpose of, something you didn’t see or chose not to, without meaning to. Asmodeus wouldn’t do something like this, if you hadn’t - he wouldn’t have taken you by the wrist and dragged you to a storage closet between lectures, and he wouldn’t have locked the door behind him, after shoving you inside. It just wasn’t like him. He was never so outright.

It wasn’t like him, and yet, it was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

“I mean, I can’t put all the blame on you.” The closet was too small, too cramped. There was barely enough room for two people to stand side by side, but Asmodeus had been more than happy to drag you against his chest, an arm around your waist while the other played with the collar of your shirt, one leg bent and positioned between your knees, forcing you to be a little more dependent on his support than you would’ve liked. It was all you could do to lean against him, to keep your arms crossed and your expression stern as he went on. You weren’t claustrophobic, but anyone would’ve been uncomfortable like this, especially with someone else’s breath ghosting over their back. 

“Lucifer’s selfish, and the twins can be so clingy, don’t you think?” There was a heavy sigh, a shake of his head, leaving longer portions of his hair cascading over your shoulder. If he wanted an answer, he didn’t bother waiting for one, only going on in that labored, languid tone of his. “It’s so hard to get you alone, most days, and it’s impossible to fend the others off for very long. Sometimes, I feel like it’d be easier to cut off one of your fingers and string it around my neck. At least then, I’d have a part of you I can actually keep to myself.”

You swallowed dryly, your mind struggling to process his confession and his levity in tandem. It was so shadowy in here, too, so dark, light only spilling in from the small, almost unnoticeable crack under the door. You doubted you’d be able to see your hand, if you held it out in front of you. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” You asked, looking for a way to appease him. Your next class was going to start soon, and the other brothers were probably getting worried. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t mind having this heart-to-heart somewhere more open, too. “You shouldn’t scare me like that,” You chuckled, doing your best to sound as unfazed as he did. “If you’re jealous, we can always--”

“I’m not jealous.” It was a hasty correction, swift but practiced, rehearsed to the point of instinct. It took you a moment to realize he’d interrupted you, and another for Asmodeus to, but he was quick to laugh it off, to peck at the corner of your jaw as he tried to find an excuse for his slip-up. “It wouldn’t make sense for me to be jealous, would it? I mean, look at me! What do they have that I don’t?” Another laugh, strained, humorless. As performative as yours had been. “It’s not like you love them more than you love me, right? That just wouldn’t make sense.”

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” It was for your own sake as much as it was for his. Your heart was beating faster, now, the pervasive chill the Devildom suddenly more intense, suddenly more unbearable. It didn’t help that Asmodeus was starting to melt into you, his free hand falling, trailing past your hip before taking hold of your thigh, nimble fingers rubbing slow, deep circles into tender flesh. You didn’t want to hate it. Usually, something was wrong if Asmodeus wasn’t touching you, but this felt like a consolation prize, like an absent-minded attempt to fall into an old habit. It didn’t feel affectionate, it felt possessive. Like he was only bothering with it to remind you that he was still there, and that he wasn’t letting you go. “Don’t-- this isn’t like you, Asmo. Something’s wrong, but if you aren’t going to tell me what it is, I’m not going to pry it out of you. I just… I don’t have time mess around, right now.”

“You’d have time if it was Mammon.” You stiffened, but Asmodeus didn’t seem to care. This time, he targeted you neck, the tips of pointed fangs dipping into the space just below your jugular before pulling away, only playing with the idea of biting down. “You’ve always had a weak spot for him. Is it because he’s stubborn? No, you like Levi, too, and he’s a pushover. A strong gust of wind could probably overpower him, on a good day.” You felt your breath hitch in your throat as Asmodeus’ attention drifted, a hand working itself under your shirt. He didn’t move to do anything, but you almost wished he would. Having him rake his nails over your stomach, sharpened and talon-like but never utilized, never pushed down with any real force… At least pain would break the tension. At least pain would be something. “Or, are you running off to meet Satan? I wouldn’t blame you, he’s so ambitious, and so strong, too. Strong enough to take my place as a fucking newborn--”

There was a high-pitched yelp, a stifled curse as he bit down on the side of his tongue, forcing himself to stop before he said something too treacherous. Instead, he buried his face in the dip of your shoulder, mumbling a string of garbled, incoherent profanities as he pulled you closer, as he pressed down on your chest so tightly, you had to wonder if he was trying to restrain you or suffocate you. “Let me go.” You were past the point of trying to talk him down, past the point of wanting to. “You’re being… you’re being weird. I don’t know if I can--”

You didn’t get a chance to finish, this time. Abruptly, tortuously, he teeth clamped down around the crook of your neck, a soft palm shooting up to cover your mouth as you tried to scream. You took it back - the pain wasn’t better. It was searing, burning, as bright and as blinding as the deep, jagged gashes he clawed into your stomach, as awful as he feeling of his hauling you against him, his chest heaving against your back. “You’re not going anywhere,” He growled, his composure shattering, splitting apart in the blink of an eye, in the space between one second and another. Fracturing like a pane of glass, already weathered by the elements.

Like the confidence of a man who’d had one too many hits to ego, and had long since started taking them to heart.

“I finally got you alone. I’m not letting go until I get everything I deserve.”

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Nails, Hair, Hips, Teeth, pt.2

A/N: Part two to that spicy little number I cooked up a bit ago. This one’s going to be a LOT more intense, I will be pulling full stops, there will be lots of fun things for you all to have fun with. Okay, wow this is WAAAY smuttier than I intended. Enjoy;)

Warnings: BDSM type behavior, unprotected sex (wrap that shit), oral sex (male and fem!receiving),vaginal fingering, biting, grinding, scratching, alcohol, smoking

 “Now, what the fuck am I supposed to wear to the parlor?” you ask yourself, going between the shared closet, once again. You thought of wearing something revealing, but that's too obvious. Something too much would make you look like someone who needed loosening up. One more gander at the closet and you had your opinion settled, a nice top, pants, and a little something for Luba underneath as soon as you say them.

  The travel to the parlor didn’t take too terribly long, you two lived right by it. Less than 10 minutes later, and you stepped out of your old Cadillac, the plain metal ones with a baby blue finish. Everything was quiet, which was perfect. No government officials, or Cactus to ruin your fun. Even if it was Halloween night, it was really fucking inactive. Your boot heels clicked on the road, and you walked into the parlor, your pussy quivering with excitement. As you stepped in, you could practically feel the sex seeping out of the closed doors, moans muffled by the thick doors, red carpet on the floor ruffled and wet in some places.

“Hey honey. Looking for Luba?” the woman at the desk asks you, taking a long drag of her cigarette, offering it to you.

“Yeah, they're in the back as usual?” you return, turning the offer away, but not hesitating to pour yourself a drink. You sipped it as you waited, and made small talk with the woman, and she relaxed against the desk, as you realized the cigarette was laced with trace amounts of weed. You giggled at the thought, and sank into the seat, waiting for Luba to arrive. 

  Soon enough, Tanya sauntered into the doorway, and asked you to scoot over, sitting down ever-so-gracefully next to you. She also made small talk, and some of the golden glitter from her skin made its way onto your suit jacket, but you chose not to move it. Luba liked glitter, and the two of you had a small collection in the linen closet. She snuggled up against your shoulder, and you hugged her, small breaths coming in return. You never knew that she fell asleep like that, but she was, and now even more glitter was on your getup, but it was just adding to the atmosphere. A few more minutes passed by, and with your drink gone, and the lady at the front desk reading with librarian glasses on, your eyes were beginning to droop. You’d been nodding off for a couple minutes by then, and your dreams were purely sexual. Luba taking you from behind in the bar. Him eating you out, dripping onto the hood of the ‘63 Cadillac. Him tying you up, dick hard as a rock, waiting to just devour you.

   You awoke from a door opening, so did Tanya, and Luba walked into the front room, in drag. Your body moved deeply from the sight, and you had to close your mouth to keep from moaning. They were pure sex and sensuality, and you were drowning in it. Drinking their form in, the ass, the hips…..and of course the tits. You felt yourself begin to heat up, staining your panties. Luba looked at your form on the couch, nipples perky from the air conditioning, legs spread due to extra space, hands by your sex. It was all they ever wanted. Someone to fuck and love, and absolutely get full of, drunk off of. Still wanting more though. Never getting tired and bored of the constant sex. Always open minded and spread legged, ready for anything and everything to be thrown at them. And you were just that for them. 

  Your eyes, lidded with lust matched your lover’s, and he made a finger motion, urging you to stand up and show yourself to him. And you did just that, setting Tanya to the side, putting a blanket over here, and a pillow near her head, hoping she was having a good rest. Your ass bent over just slightly, enough as to where Luba saw your little surprise for them, and their dick hardened at the thought of just ravishing you on that bed, in that house. Their lips curved at the thought, and he grabbed your hips, pressing them firmly against his crotch area, and even through all the padding and spandex, you felt it. Felt the hardness and lust, just waiting to be released into you, so willingly. Flooding your gates to the cusp of fullness, then taking it all back, only to be pushed right to the edge again, willingly and unforgivingly. You were waiting for him to make a move on you, and he did, just when you least suspected it. A light thrust of the hips into your bottom, causing your mouth to drop open, a moan asking, begging to be released into the steaming air.

“Don’t you fucking dare release that moan. Not in front of poor Tanya, what if she awoke to see this. You being a naughty bitch, moaning for my cock between your ass cheeks. Such a dirty girl waiting for me to do something to you. Well, too bad, I’m not going to do anything to you until we get home.” Luba said, grabbing your wrist and leading you to the Cadillac, which purred at his touch. 

  As Luba drove, your hand began to wander, under your clothes, and all you wanted to do was touch yourself, or have Luba touch you and finally have that beautiful release. You’d been craving it for so long, even though it’d only been hours. Your breath hitched as the air conditioning in the car turned on. The cold wetness gave you just a hint of release, but your finger brushed against the wrong button, and your mouth opened, letting out the most sultry of moans. Luba saw you from the corner of his eye, and you were lucky that the house was just a few yards away. His eyes squinted in the dark, the streetlights adding to the atmosphere. You quivered as your body calmed down from its’ orgasm, but close to nothing would prepare you for what Luba had planned for you, just for being naughty.

“Get out of the fucking car.” he said, hand on his hip, waiting for you to stand up. You smiled with antici(three second pause)pation. Your core was simply pulsing, and you rubbed your thighs together while walking, ready to cum yet again.

  You two walked into the house, and Luba calmly shut the door, waiting for you to strip, as was expected. You did so, but not completely. Their heels clicked against the wooden floor, and you sat on the bed, legs spread, fingers ghosting over your folds. They practically ran towards you when they saw your fingers entering your panties, almost dipping.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch yourself like that. Making me wait all this time while you were being so naughty, so fucking filthy in the car. You didn’t think I could see you clenching and unclenching your fucking thighs. I could practically see the steam on your side of the car. Oh, and the moans too. God, I am going to have such fun with you tonight.” they purred, grabbing your chin, making you look right at them. Luba’s fingers slid across your chest, admiring the black lace. Your nipples were visible through the fabric, and all they wanted to do was to suck on those perky tits. However, that’s not the night was about. It’s about payback.

  Luba instructed you to bend over, doggy style, and you complied, hands in front of you. The tilted your ass ever-so slightly up, and you could hear fabric being undone. Looking at the mirror in front of you, you could see Luba undoing a good amount of the padding and spandex, stretching the red dress up on their figure. Their wig was on the floor, but the wig cap remained, and they drowned you in their power. Suddenly, they stopped.

“Turn around.”

You did. Your eyes on the prize.

“Now, suck my dick until your lungs give out.”

You did.

  You took Luba fully into your mouth, and although they’re quite a thin person, their cock made up for it. Tears pricked your eyes, and you grabbed onto their hips, forcing a gag down into your throat. You came off their length and took a breath, kissing the tip, giving small kitten licks, building up the tension in the room. Luba’s jeweled hand made its way to the back of your head, and you felt a small push, and soon enough, his tip was in your mouth, dripping pre-come into your mouth. Their member was heavier than usual, probably thanks to the raging boner they had, but other than that, you were feeling fine about this. You inched your way down their cock, enjoying every second of it. You chanced a look, and there Luba stood, eyes closed, lip bitten. You almost came again, right then and there. You moaned around their length, and they pushed your head again, setting off a chain reaction. Your finger reached back, past their hips, into Luba’s ass, and you fingered them, like you would yourself. They moaned heartily at the action, and their breath hitched as you added another finger. They began slowly thrusting into your mouth, breaths becoming more labored. You took them, and as soon as you reached the hilt, your mouth opened, and your tongue reached just far enough to touch their balls, your hand meeting it there. You took another deep breath, and throated Luba all the way, and they almost spilled their load right down your perfectly capable throat. Your fingers sped up in his ass, and you knew just the right spot to touch, but you refused to do so. Your mouth was just too warm, velvety, soft. And his prostate was right there, ready for you to touch it, massage it, play with it, and you did. Your fingers pressed into their prostate, and Luba screamed, scraping their nails down your back, almost breaking the skin. They were so horny, and wanting, and lust-crazed. You continued this pattern until you felt their balls clench, but Luba backed you up off of their length, opting to save their cum for later.

“Stand up for me, love.” they said, taking your hand, and helping you up. Then, they picked you up, and sat your pussy right on their face, your legs wrapping around their neck.

   Soft, feather like kisses made their way to your pussy, clothed as it may be, and you responded happily. Luba giggled, and your foot could feet their hard member, still waiting to be finished off, but that could wait for later. His hand reached up, slowly, and put your lace panties, practically part liquid at this point, to the side. Their tongue met your pussy, and you both moaned in unison, but you continued the sound, as the vibrations sent you flying even closer to ecstasy. His tongue kissed at your clitoris, urging the little bud to peek out from its hood, and as it did, he smiled, and actually kissed it, your eyes closing. They moved their head down, and their nose took its place, cold as it was, against your clit, brushing against it. They blew a puff of cold air on your pussy, and you immediately clenched, but as soon as that muscle met your hole, it was all open. Your mouth dropped, and nothing but the devil’s praises exited it.

“Oh, Luba, yes, Eat me out just like that.” you screamed, clutching their back, feet finding leverage to grind against their face and create just the right angle.

  Their tongue laved against your pussy, and they even bit part of your perineum, just to move to your thighs, kissing up and down them. They breathed so heavily against you, and turned you around, and almost threw you onto the bed, taking their position right above you. Their fingers also decided to make an appearance, and their middle finger, purposefully going in without a ring, entered you with little resistance, and the feeling was almost too much. The slick sounds of Luba’s tongue lapping up your juices, along with their fingers working in perfect unison, made you feel like nothing compared to that right then. Their mouth came off, and they spit on your opening, and that’s what sent you flying over the edge, and you grabbed them, toes curling. Head thrown back, eyes rolled backwards, you came, mouth opened for all of the gods to see. Just how purely infatuated you were in that one point in time, in love with lust, drunk with the feeling of orgasm. After coming back to your senses, and after a couple more licks, you opened your eyes to find Luba shaking their hands, liquid coming off of them.

“You fucking soaked me. Look at my fucking wig cap!” they exclaimed, eyes piercing yours. “Too bad I’ve got to fuck you now. Turn the fuck around, and get in doggy style.”

  You complied once more, and you felt their cock tease your entrance, and your vagina took them so well, and their penis sunk right into you, as perfect as can be. You moaned at the feeling, and Luba almost creampied you right then and there. Their hips made a slow rhythm, and you pressed back into them, trying to get the right grind going. Luba’s hands met your waist, right below where your ribs ended, and they began slamming into you, their moans amplified by the recently quiet room. Your hands began to slip, but you managed to stay upright, and as your back bent, their hips changed angles once more, just a whisper away from your g-spot. Luba’s hand left your waist, and reared back, smacking your ass, meeting it with each thrust.

“Ugh, God, you think you’re such a fucking saint for sucking my cock off like that. Almost making me spill my fucking load down your throat. You’d be right, I almost lost everything. But look at me now, fucking you like the slut you are. Dominating you just how you deserve. Fucking that hot, pulsating womb of yours. Gonna fuck a kid into you, just like this. Gonna spank you until you can’t deny me anymore.” Luba purred, into your ear, sending you through your next orgasm. You clenched around them, and their smacks only picked up the pace, sending you into even more of a sex-frenzy. 

  Their hips stuttered in pace, and Luba lost it inside of you, and your eyes closed once more, and you felt yourself become filled with them, their essence, their very lifeblood. Their cock slipped from you, and you both took a breather, but not for long. You could feel their cock harden against you, and taking a glance at the mirror, you say how puffed and oh-so filled to the brim your pussy was with their cum, dripping out onto the bed sheets. You wanted to reach back and push it back in, wanted to feel him inside you once more. Luckily, they felt the same way, and pushed their cock into you once more, cum seeping from the sides. A low moan left their lips, a gasp yours, and they sped up once more, hips slapping against your ass. You two were quite a sight to behold. You still had your underwear and bra set on, Luba still in their dress. Their lipstick was smeared around their lips, makeup now smoky. Their earrings swung at full force with each thrust that came from their hips, and God, were those your favorite. Their hips fucked you at full force, and you took it, like you knew you could. You clenched once more, just at the thought of Luba’s cum being inside you, filling you, and Luba responded beautifully. They moaned, and with one last series of thrusts, they pulled out, and jacked themselves off, head thrown back. You had a nasty, naughty idea, and turned over, mouth open in front of Luba’s cock. 

  Right as they came, right as those pearly drops came from their tip, threatening to spill over, you ripped your bra off, cheap little thing, and let it rain on you. Your mouth was filled with cum, tongue dripping with the liquid. It dripped down your neck, and onto your breasts, drops dangling over the sides, catching on your nipples, resembling milk dribbling from a breast, full with the seed of a partner. You were grinding against the bed with these thoughts, and Luba’s cum and your squirt mixed on the bed, and when Luba opened their eyes, only to find you so blissful, they came again, spilling all over your face once more. Blocking your vision, your skin soaked with the substance. Luba moaned, and dreadfully loud, their voice straining at the pleasure. You came against the bed, wetting it even more so, waiting for your body to wear itself out, punch drunk with lust. Luba collapsed against you, arm over their face, trying desperately to catch their breathing. The two of you were so tired, but so fulfilled and happy in that moment. You breathed against their skin, and after several minutes of calming down, Luba spoke once more, their eyes opening slightly.

“Thank you for taking me so graciously”

“Anything for that penis.” you replied, giggling before heading to the restroom, about to tackle the bucket loads of cum covering your face and body.

Masterlist

[ahiddenpath]

7, 8, 9, and 10 for Meme for Fic Writers. Have fun!

Ahhh, thank you for the asks, my friend!  Here is the question list.  Throwing it under the cut for length!

7.)  Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Seeking Resonance

“But, even as he ran his fingers down her upper arm, even as he acknowledged that she was a crucial part of him, Takeru wished that he could step away from her, ridding himself of the intruder who burrowed more deeply towards his core every day.  There is fear in love, he repeated to himself.  It was the opening line in one of his latest- and most popular- poems.  It was certainly not a new thought, but then, what was?  What mattered was the presentation, the depth of emotion placed into the words.  And he had bled out over that poem, plucking words from his heart as one might pluck thorns from flesh: slowly, carefully, with much pain, swearing, and wine.”

I’m not saying that this is the best thing I’ve written, or even that I’m proud of it, but...  I like this bit because I think I nailed what writing can feel like, sometimes.  That’s when you know you’re being vulnerable and honest.

And if you’re going to read just one thing I’ve written- just one full chapter- make it Yamato’s chapter in After August.  It’s got everything, man.  It’s got some solid writing, it’s got Hiroaki, it’s got me finally starting to really figure out how to write Yamato, it’s got the coalescence of the point I was struggling to reach with the whole fic.  Check out the opening scene:

When Yamato left for school this morning, his father was already gone.  He returned to an empty apartment, cooked and ate alone, cleaned up, and started his homework in his room.  Scowling, Yamato dropped his pencil and leaned back in his chair.  The quiet was intense, endless, absolute.  It was to the ears as utter darkness is to the eyes: a fearsome void.

He drummed his fingers against the desk, needing the noise.  He considered moving to the living room and turning on the TV or stereo, but the thought made him tense.  Living rooms were supposed to be shared spaces, gathering places.  His bedroom already felt huge.  The main apartment area was like a cavern.

The image made him shudder.  The four walls surrounding him seemed to darken.  Yamato exclaimed, slammed his hands on the desk, and pushed himself to his feet.  Could the dark cave suck him in on earth?

Gabumon's not here to help me.  No one is.  Yamato's breathing was labored, lungs straining for air.  He collapsed on his bed, bent over, and cradled his head in his hands.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened.  Somewhat reassured, Yamato straightened.  His eyes landed on the framed picture on the edge of his desk.  He focused on Gabumon as his heartbeat slowed back to normal.

Sighing, Yamato lifted the picture and pulled it in.  When he was upset in the Digital World, Gabumon sometimes asked him to play the harmonica.  Somehow, his digimon knew that making music was an outlet for Yamato, a way to siphon off his emotions.

I guess I was thinking that it's too quiet...  Yamato sat the picture down, then leaned forward to open a desk drawer.  His harmonica was stored there in its case, the spot where it remained now, safe from being lost or damaged.

Yamato grabbed the instrument and spent a moment appreciating the tactile sensations of cool metal and sliding his fingers over the square openings in the comb.  He lay down on his bed, closed his eyes, and lifted the harmonica to his mouth.

Although he already had a song in mind, he warmed up with a few scales, inhaling and exhaling to hit every note, blocking airflow to unwanted chambers with his tongue.  Giving each part of the instrument its due was meditation for his troubled heart.

And after his breath warmed each chamber and every note sang, he began to play Gabumon's favorite song.

8.)  Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Hahahaha!  For me, I love love love writing dialogue between Koushiro and Taichi.  I feel that Koushiro can be his most direct and short with Taichi, and that’s...  So, so, delightful.  I also really love when writers or actors convey characters talking over each other/cutting one another off, because it happens so often, and is so rarely shown?  (Also, you can see from the “cool head” bit that I had not yet nailed writing Yamato at this point).

From Seeking Resonance:

Thankfully, this set the operator down to business, and the ambulance was dispatched.  Taichi lowered the phone and stared down at Eimi.  Now what do I do?  He had no clue, so he called Yamato, turning to someone with a cool head.  When the call went to voice mail, he tried Koushiro, muttering orders for the nerd to get off his computer and answer.  His nerves frayed more with each ring, and he barked a curse when the chiming stopped.

An exasperated sigh blew into his ear.  “Honestly, Taichi-san.  Be profane elsewhere.  I’m trying to work.”

“Koushiro!”  A flash of relief and surprise lightened his strain.  It didn’t even occur to him to pick at his friend for being up and probably working before sunrise. 

 “Thank God.  Shut up and listen.”

“Taichi-san-”  The dry disapproval that accompanied their typical repartee colored Koushiro’s voice.  Taichi grunted in response, but it sounded more like a growl.

“Shut up!  I’m with Eimi-”

“I’m aware-”

“I just called her an ambulance.  She’s nonresponsive and burning up.  She, she…”  His voice broke in a fashion he hadn’t heard since early puberty.  “She looks like shit, Koushiro.  I, I’m terrified.”

There was a short beat of silence, broken by a sharp intake of breath on the opposite line.  “What do I do?!” 

“Uh-  Well-”  In any other situation, Taichi would have laughed at Koushiro for stalling and stuttering, but it scraped at his nerves now.  “Jyou keeps an emergency bag in the closet closest to his front door-”

“How the hell does that help me-”

“And he likely passed that habit onto Eimi-san.  Check and see if she has one.  It should contain clothing, personal items, insurance information, and the like.  And at this hour, you’re probably running around in boxers.”

Taichi was already sprinting towards the foyer closet, his feet crashing like thunder against the stairs.  He was, as Koushiro predicted, a pair of boxers away from being butt naked.  “Fuck you.”

“Charmed.  Find the bag, clothe yourself, and carry Eimi to the couch in the library; it’s closest to the front door.  Put something on her feet.  Text me the name of the hospital.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Koushiro-  Thank you.”  Taichi cut the call off without waiting for a reply, then shoved the phone under his armpit.  His bare feet slid against the hardwood as he cut his speed by the closet.

9.)  Which fic has been the hardest to write?

...Seeking Resonance, probably.  I think I got pretty real about how hard it is to make your way as an adult.  It’s a vulnerable work.

10.)  Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Definitely So You Were Alive, which I wrote and posted in under two hours.  

[badsext]

For Asgard! : Klaus x Valkyrie

⚠️: Smut

Klaus is rifling through some antiques in Reginald’s study when he comes upon a strange object, a golden geometric sculpture with interlocking shapes like pieces of a puzzle. Klaus immediately thinks of pawning it for cash, but then he hears something. At first he thinks he’s imagining it, but the object is humming. He picks it up and attempts to rearrange the pieces, but it won’t budge.

“Where’s the goddamn off button?,” he mumbles to himself. He struggles with it a bit more before giving up and throwing it against the wall. It comes to rest on the floor and produces a clicking sound before going silent. Assuming he must have broken it, he stoops to pick it up. Then a bright beam of refracted light comes streaming out of a small hole in the top. The light is so intense it makes him shut his eyes tight.

When Klaus opens his eyes the study is gone and he is standing on an open road by the sea. A pickup truck swerves to avoid him. It’s not unlike the time a mysterious stolen suitcase transported Klaus into the Vietnam war. Fortunately, this time his destination is a peaceful fishing port. The sign reads ‘New Asgard’ and in the distance he spies a pub. “Eh, what the fuck,” he says to himself. Klaus lights a cigarette, shoves the puzzle device into his pocket, and marches into town.

The bar is full of fishermen, drinking and chatting amongst themselves. No one even blinks at Klaus as he saunters up to the bar. He orders whisky then rotates himself 360 degrees on the barstool to take in his new surroundings.

He observes the woman resting on her elbows at the other end of the bar looks like she could kick his ass, which was exactly Klaus’ type when it comes to women. And she is gorgeous. Her thick utilitarian clothing and dour expression can’t hide it.

“The sea was plentiful today, your majesty.” A robust bearded man hails her as he collects his drinks from the bar.

“Aye, Harek. I’ll drink to that!,” the woman smiles and lifts her beer stein, then goes back to her beverage. Klaus leans in, his mind full of questions.

“Excuse me, barkeep? Where am I?”

“New Asgard.”

“Well, yes, that was on the sign, but…What year is it? What is today’s date.”

“Are you alright, my friend?”

“Just tell me.” Klaus insists.

“Tuesday, May 10th, 2023…and it’s just about noon.”

“Oh, boy,” Klaus’ eyes grow bigger as he fishes around in his coat pocket for payment.

“I’ve got this one, Bjorn. Put it on my tab.” It is the beautiful woman from the end of the bar. She looks Klaus over, commenting with a soft, ambiguous grunt.

“Many thanks for the drink, your majesty.” Klaus opens his coat like a dress and curtsies.

Valkyrie stifles a chuckle. “You can skip the formalities. That’s just Harek, he’s stuck in the old traditions. I am Brunhilde, last Valkyrie of Asgard, and king of New Asgard, but you can call me Val. What’s your name, stranger?”

“I am Klaus, 4th son of Hargreeves and irresistible bad boy at your service.” He winks. “If I may, why is the monarch of a small country drinking in a pub at noon on a Tuesday?”

“No, you may not,” she snorts. “But today is your lucky day because I’m bored and this ale makes me chatty.” Klaus moves to the empty stool next to hers and rests his chin in his hand, ready for Val to spill the tea. “I was part of a squadron of fighters, the Valkyrie, defenders of Asgard, but I am the last. My sisters in arms were slaughtered in battle including the one I loved. Her voice trails off for a moment as she stares off into the distance. “Then Asgard was destroyed.”

“Moon exploded by a telekinetic?” Klaus offers a guess.

Val furrows her brow at him. “Fire giant. The people of this town are the survivors of genocide and I am their leader. THAT is why I drink. What’s your story, Klaus?”

“I grew up in a family with superpowers and I’ve got the worst one. I communicate with the dead, and yes, that’s just as much fun as it sounds! I was kidnapped by assassins and tortured, escaped back in time to the Vietnam war where I fell in love with a soldier who died in my arms. Then my siblings and I tried to stop the apocalypse and failed. We’ve traveled back in time…let me see…six times now? We always manage to fuck it up. That’s why I drink.”

Valkyrie tips back the last of her ale and slams the empty stein on the bar, then holds up two fingers. “Shots for me and this miserable bastard!” The shots arrive and Valkyrie clinks her glass with Klaus.’

“Have I started to grow on you?,” he asks, making the shot disappear down his throat.

“The jury’s still out,” she replies, following suit.

Klaus stands up and walks over to the juke box. “Hey, you got a quarter?”

Valkyrie tosses him the coin. He snatches it out of the air with precision that surprises them both. He makes a selection, then comes shimmying back to the opening chords of ‘Immigrant Song.’ Valkyrie smiles. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Klaus shakes his head “iiieeeaaaaahhhh!,” he sings along, pleading with her to join him on the dance floor. She obliges, reluctantly at first, moving to the music, enchanted by Klaus’ goofy charm. The song fades. Something slower begins to play. Valkyrie captures Klaus by the collar and pulls him in close. Her rich brown eyes search his green ones.

“I’d like to take you home and….,"she reaches down and wraps her hand firmly around the bulge in his pants. He shudders in anticipation. Valkyrie tosses some money on the bar and heads for the door, pulling Klaus behind her.

“Don’t wait up,” he announces to no one in particular.

Valkyrie takes Klaus back to her modest cottage not far from the rocky shore. They stand at the foot of her bed. She removes her vest, then starts working on his belt.

“Your majest- um, Val?…I love the fisherman gear: puffy vest, rubber boots, cable knit sweater…it’s hot, but I was wondering if you had anything tighter…perhaps made of leather?” He bites his finger, anxiously awaiting her response.

Valkyrie narrows her eyes at him. “Alright, pretty boy, but be careful what you wish for.” She disappears into the closet and emerges wearing her armor. Klaus’ jaw drops.

“Does this excite you?” She rips open his shirt to feel his heart.

His breath catches in his throat. “Y-you didn’t mention it had a cape!”

Val kisses his neck and whispers sensuously in his ear, “I also have a pegasus.”

“Oh dear god.” His eyes fall shut and his head rolls back.

“Enough talk.” She rips off the rest of his clothes. “Down on the bed.”

Klaus lays down facing her. He watches her lustful eyes roving his body’s topography, but then her expression snaps back to one of severity. “Roll over,” she says. His face lights up. He rolls onto his stomach with his face in the pillow. Val slaps his tight little ass. “Mmm…,” Klaus relishes the sting. Val soothes his sensitive pink cheek with a caress. Klaus lifts his pelvis up to make room for his stiffened cock.

Val reaches under the bed for one of her toys. This one has Klaus’ name on it. She turns it on. Klaus immediately recognizes that sound. He perks up and practically wiggles with excitement. She glides the toy over his ass. His skin has goosebumps. She pauses to put a bit of lube on the tip then she uses it to stimulate his tight little hole. “Oh!,” he shudders at the sensation. “Are you ready for me, pretty boy?”

“Yes.” He is breathless. The waiting is so hard. She slowly inserts the toy. Klaus whimpers and groans until she is fully inside him. She increases the vibration. “Ah,”. Klaus pushes back against her hand. She pulls him by the hair so she can see his face while she fucks him. His face is twisted in pleasure and pain, only seconds from release. She turns off the toy, takes it out. “Don’t you come until I tell you to.” She scolds. “Only good boys get to come.”

“Oh, I promise to be a good boy. I do.”

She pulls off her armor and lies back with her head resting high on a stack of pillows. “Shut up and satisfy me with that pretty mouth.”

“It would be my pleasure, your majesty…For Asgard!.” He dives between her legs to devour her. His tongue glides over her clit, back and forth. His lips wrap around her most sensitive flesh to suckle her throbbing bundle of nerves. He sinks two fingers inside her. She moans, grabbing the back of his head. He takes the encouragement and focuses his movements. She comes in spectacular fashion, crying out and squeezing his head between her muscular thighs. He rises with traces of her essence on his chin. “Was I a good boy?”

“A very good boy.” She flips him over on his back and takes his cock in her hand. She pumps it a few times until it is fully erect. Her other hand slides over his smooth chest up to his neck. She looks into his eyes to gage his reaction. He whimpers and bites his lip, his sparkling green eyes pleading. Her fingers wrap tighter around his throat, squeezing with light pressure. Then she straddles him, sliding her slick pussy over the tip of his cock. He groans and bucks his pelvis. “Not yet, pretty boy. It’s sweeter if you suffer.”

She kisses him, drawing his bottom lip into her mouth and biting it gently. Then she rakes her teeth over his nipple. First one and then the other.

Klaus’ eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck,” he rasps.

Her hand grips tighter around his throat and the other rests against his chest as she lowers herself onto his cock. She bucks forward, slowly at first then picks up speed, her little tits bouncing as she rides. Klaus is in ecstasy, looking up at her in awe. Her brown skin glistens with the sweat of her labor. She leans into her climax, moaning and spasming with her eyes shut tight. When she regains control, she can see that Klaus is about to come, so she climbs off and grabs his wet cock. “Now, pretty boy. I want to watch you come.” She pumps him until he gushes over her hand and makes a mess of himself.

Her whole demeanor changes. She kisses him tenderly then runs off to the bathroom, returning with a warm damp hand towel and a dry one. He smiles up at her, cleaning himself off. She smiles back. “Looks like we manage rather well together, don’t we?”

“You are a goddess.”

Valkyrie laughs.

“What? What did I say?”

“Do remember us when you go back, will you?” She sits next to him nuzzling his ear.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know how to get back. In fact, I’m not a hundred percent sure how I got here.”

“You had the power all along. Just click your heels together three times. Haha! 'There’s no place like home.’”

“How can you be so cavalier? I might be stuck here!”

“Klaus, don’t be ridiculous!” She gets up, reaches into his coat, and tosses him the puzzle device.

“You’re going to have to show me how this thing works.”

“Might want to put your clothes on first.”

Master list

@elliethesuperfruitlover @miraclesoflove @bitch4bagels @bi-satanist @punknatch @ringpopdust @valkyries-for-valhalla @dandycandy75 @vinawyatt

[cashtonsangel]

A Dangerous Game

Summary: You have been teasing Ashton all night, and Ashton has had enough (fem!reader x ashton).

Word Count: 3700

Warnings: its smut ladies and gents, NSFW

A/N: omg cindy writing? and she writing smut??? yeah even im surprised that i did this and the fact that i managed to write something is freaking insane anyways feedback is much appreciated

Tonight had been a game of cat and mouse for you and Ashton. There was you, the mouse, constantly trying to rile him up throughout the night as you teased him in every way possible. Then there was Ashton, the cat, quietly observing your every move, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey and attack.

It all started back at your apartment as you were both getting dressed for your night out. In order for your plan to work, you knew you had to push every single one of Ashton’s buttons tonight. Seeking out the most alluring dress in your closet, you did your hair and makeup so that they would accentuate your features and drive Ashton mad.

You barely got out of the house once Ashton got one look at you, but with much convincing and reassurance, the two of you made your way one of your favorites spots downtown.

When arriving at the club, you started off small, not wanting to push him too far yet. Little things such as your hands lingering a couple seconds longer than necessary and holding his gaze for a beat longer than you were suppose to rile him up at the beginning of the night.

As the night when on, your advances were more forward and brazen. Cupping his ass, grinding your body all over his, and intentionally avoiding all his is advances, you did everything in your power to push Ashton to his limits.

And after the fifth time you denied his kiss, Ashton had had enough.

Roughly gripping your hips, he pulled your body closer to his before you felt his warm breath by your ear.

“I know what you’re doing, doll, and I hope you you’re ready to pay the price.”

A chill went down your spine from both fear and excitement. Spinning around so that you were face to face with your boyfriend, you placed sloppy kisses along his jaw line up to right under his ear. Roughly sucking on the sensitive area, Ashton let out a sharp breath and loosened his grip on your hips.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you slipped out of his harsh grip and walked towards the exit, but not before whispering one last thing in his ear.

“Bring it on.”

With his long strides, it didn’t take long for Ashton to catch up to your retreating figure. Walking out of the bar hand in hand, you both flagged down a lyft and got into the backseat of the car.  

Wanting to push Ash to the edge, you placed your hand on his knee, rubbing gentle circles up and down his thigh, adding pressure every time your hand got near his bulge.

Leaning close to you, he nipped your ear as a warning, “you’re playing a dangerous game, doll.”

You could only smirk in response and slowly inched your hand closer and closer to the zipper of his pants.  Before you could get anywhere close, Ashton roughly grabbed your hand, preventing you from wandering and further.

“Don’t.”

The rest of the ride back to your shared apartment was filled with thick tension. Ashton’s grip barely loosening through the entirety of the drive, not trusting you for a single moment. He knew you were up to no good, and judging by your act tonight, he knew you would take opportunity you could to drive him up the wall.

Both of you sat stiffly in the lyft knowing that any small slip up would lead to something you both would regret in the morning. The tension could be cut by a knife, and even your driver could feel the thick air between the two of you. The driver tried to drown out some of the tension by blasting the music, but it did little to ease up the atmosphere.

Once you arrive at Ashton’s house, the both of you swiftly climbed out of the car with Ashton gruffly thanking your driver. Fumbling with the keys, Ashton managed to finally open the door after a few tries, and you both rushed in.

Haphazardly discarding his keys and jacket on the ground, Ashton roughly pushed you against the wall adjacent to the door, and your hands found his waist to try and steady yourself from the rapid movement. His lips nipped and sucked on your neck and jaw leaving marks all over your exposed skin.

“You’ve been such a fucking brat all night, doll. Teasing and dancing like that all night. What do you have to say about that, hmm?” He punctuated each of his words with a nip or a sloppy kiss.

“I- uh- I,” letting out a breathy moan, you could barely form a coherent sentence, overwhelmed by Ashton’s distracting lips.

“What’s that, doll? I don’t quite understand.” There was an air of arrogance in his voice, knowing exactly why your words were stuck in your throat.

“I’m waiting,” pausing his assault on your jaw, his lips ghosted your ear before harshly sucking on your sweet spot located right below your ear causing your knees to buckle. The only thing keeping you upright was Ashton’s body pinning you against the wall.

Moving down your jaw, Ashton’s lips danced around your cheeks and chin, covering every inch of you face with his lips except for where you want them the most.

“Ash,” you whined, trying to get his lips on yours by guiding his head with your hands. Before your hands could even make it up to his shoulders, they were roughly pinned to the wall by his.

“Nuh uh. You’ve been such a fucking tease all night, and now that we’re home, we are playing by my rules. Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you any time to respond before his lips latched onto your neck, surely leaving marks all over.

“Now, I believe I asked you a question, doll. And I’ve yet to receive a response. You know I’m not the most patient man. Why were you being such a brat tonight?” he reiterated, determined to elicit some type of verbal response.

No words escaped your mouth. They couldn’t. The only sounds that you were capable of at the moment were soft cries and whimpers every time Ashton nipped at your sensitive skin.

Your breathing was labored, and your mind was foggy. There were just way too many sensations on your body. Ashton’s soft lips caressing your skin, his silky shirt pressing up against your chest, his rough pants rubbing against your thighs, and his cold rings biting into the skin of your hands. It was all too much.

“No words? That’s a first for tonight, huh. Looks like you’re not so tough now, are you? Not when there is absolutely nothing stopping me from pulling you over my lap and making you regret your every move tonight. Am I right, doll?”

Your breath caught as Ashton’s hands let go of yours as they started to travel the length of your body, roughly squeezing and pulling at your delicate skin. His eyes never once left yours as he hiked up the bottom of your dress.

You could only let out a whimper, barely able to concentrate on anything besides the intoxicating man in front of you.

“Nothing to say at all? Why does that not surprise me? You’re all talk, but the minute I lay my hands on you, you forget how to act. It’s such a shame really.” A smirk appeared on his face as he spoke.

Suddenly he stepped back, causing you to stumble forward as you tried and regained your senses.

“Go to the living room and strip, doll.” Without another word, Ashton turned towards the kitchen disappearing out of your eyesight.

Not wanting to dig yourself in an even bigger hole that you created, you followed his instructions. Quickly making your way to the living room, you had gotten rid of your heels and managed to step out of your dress before sitting down on the sofa, waiting for Ashton to return.

As you waited, you reflected on everything that had went down at the bar. Your game plan had worked better than you thought. Ashton was rough and callous with you which is everything that you had hoped for, but now? Now you knew for a rough night. If Ashton’s demeanor moments prior had indicated anything, you knew it was going to be one hell of a night. And that thought alone sparked fear and need through your core. However your reverie was interrupted by Ashton’s rough voice.

“Looks like you’re quite comfortable on that couch.”

You shot up at the sound of Ashton’s voice, startled by presence. His voice alone shot a fire through your core as you started to imagine all of the possibilities that tonight would bring.

Your eyes followed his figure as Ashton made his way from the kitchen to the center of the couch. Sitting down and reclining back, Ashton looked relaxed with a beer in his hand. HIs eyes roamed the length of your body taking in each and every curve that he could feast on through the dimly lit room, making you feel absolutely vulnerable and exposed.

“Come here, doll.” Shuffling so that you were directly in front of Ashton, your eyes wandered on their own. Whilst in the kitchen, Ashton had managed to unbutton the top half of his silk shirt revealing some of his chest hair that you had grown to love. His hair was tousled from all the times his fingers had run through it. And his arrogant smirk that seemingly never left his face ever since the moment he had you pressed up against the wall. When your eyes met his, the sheer intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Ar- are you gonna get undressed?” Choosing to ignore his statement, you tried to sound confident, but the sound of your stutter just went straight to his head.

“No, I’m quite comfortable right now.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Ashton spoke again.

“Get on my thigh, doll. You’ve been acting like such a needy little girl all night, so maybe if you get your fix, you’ll starting acting like a good girl that I’ve always thought you were.”

Your eyes lit up at his statement. You absolutely love riding his thigh. Although you’ve only tried it a couple of times, there was just something so hot and intimate about using Ashton’s body to get yourself off while Ashton just sat and watched.

Climbing onto the couch, you swung your leg over his so that you were straddling his right thigh. Lowering yourself down, the texture and the coarseness of Ashton’s pants rubbed against your sensitive inner thighs.

“Comfortable?”

Nodding, you eagerly awaited for Ashton’s go, knowing that if you started without his permission, things would only do downhill from this point on.

“Alright, doll. Go ahead.”

The moment the words left his mouth, your hips immediately started moving, grinding your naked core on the rough fabric. Wanting a little bit more support, you placed your hands on Ashton chest and leaned forwards so that each and every moment created friction between your clit and the fabric. However, your boyfriend had other plans.

“Nope, you didn’t think was gonna make it that easy for you, right? Hands behind your back and sit up straight. The only contact you’re allowed to have is your pussy on my thigh, that’s it. You are gonna work for that orgasm, is that clear?”

Letting out a whine, you were unhappy with his words. You wanted to touch his chest and enjoy this moment with him underneath your hands more than anything, and Ashton just ruined it with a few words. This was supposed to be an easy and rewarding task, but with these new conditions, it was going to be so much harder.

“You do remember this is a punishment, right doll? I am not going to tolerate your whimpers and cries until you’ve proven to me that you know how to act like a good little girl. You were being a fucking tease, and now you have to pay the consequences.”

You voiced your dissatisfaction, but otherwise complied with his demands.

Sitting up straight, you clasped your hands behind your back before continuing the rocking motion of your hips, creating the traction that you so desperately needed.

The first few moments were slow and calculated. Your movements were shy and unsure since you didn’t know what to expect from Ashton. Another twist could be hiding around the corner, and you weren’t sure if could handle it.

As you finally found an angle that hit your clit in just the right spot, your movements became more confident as you stop thinking and started living in the moment.

Minutes passed as you rapidly increased your pace once you had found a rhythm. Your eyes closed on their own accord as everything around you started to disappear save for you and your boyfriend. The sound of your labored breathing and wetness filled the otherwise quiet room.

You had felt Ashton’s eyes on your figure the entire time, piercing yours as he watched each and every movement completely entranced, his stare causing you to slightly exaggerate your motions to put on a show.

You could feel a knot slowly forming at the bottom of your stomach from your movements, and you knew it would take long for you to find the release that you were so desperately craving. Your hips were moving quicker and quicker as you came closer and closer to the edge.

The moans and whines that spilled from your mouth became louder and more persistent. Your movements became increasingly sloppier as you tried to tip over the edge, not caring about how you looked as long as you could find your release.

As you felt your pussy tighten, an indication that you were just at the edge, a pair of hand roughly gripped your hips ceasing all movements from your hips.

“Ash,” you whined, hopelessly trying to move against his grip, his hands squeezing tighter with your actions in warning.

“Tsk, tsk, stop before you get into more trouble, doll.”

“Ash, please? I’m so close, please. I’ll do anything, babe.”

“Hmm, as tempting as that sounds, this is supposed to be a punishment, doll. Letting you orgasm doesn’t sound like a punishment to me, especially this easily.”

As the knot in your stomach slowly dissipated, Ashton’s words started to register in your mind.

Worry crept up your spine. You knew this was too easy, and now you were anxious about what Ashton has up his sleeve.

“Ash-,” your words were silenced by Ashton’s finger on your lips.

“It looks like you’re having too much fun, doll, and I don’t think that’s fair. I mean you’ve were such a bad girl tonight, and now you think you can just come like that? Nuh-uh I don’t think so, doll. Don’t you think I deserve to have some fun too?”

Rapidly nodding, you knew once you gave into whatever he demanded, you would finally get the release that you were so desperately craving.

“Eager, are we? You haven’t even heard what I had to say,” humor laced his words, amused at your desperate state.

“Ash, please,” you whined as Ashton kept on stalling.

“Make me come first, and then I’ll let you have your release, doll.”

“How?” Looking up at him, you wanted to try and find his angle.

“Ride me.”

Those words make a shiver roll down your spine. Your body was already sensitive from riding Ashton’s thigh, and now you weren’t sure how you were going to hold your release back before Ashton’s.

But you wanted this. You needed this. This was your plan all along, to tease Ashton all night so that he would push you to your limits.

Climbing off his lap, you slid onto your knees between Ashton’s legs, careful to maintain eye contact with him the entire time, knowing that that would drive him insane. You reached for the buckle of his belt and carefully undid it before gently unzipping his pants.

Once the zipper was undone, Ashton hastily shoved his pants and underwear off his thighs and off his legs, freeing his cock from the fabric confines.

Grabbing his length, you worked your hands up and down feeling him harden beneath your hands, leaving no inch untouched. Your lips paid special attention to his sensitive head, swirling your tongue over his lips over and over again, eliciting a hiss from Ashton.

Smiling at his response, you removed your mouth and placed a teasing but gentle kiss on the head before trailing down his length.

“Stop playin’, doll.” Ashton managed to grunt out. His breath started to become labored by your actions and his fists were clenched. His eyes pierced yours in warning, wanting you to stop your teasing.

Obeying his command, you grabbed the condom that Ashton had conveniently placed on one of the couch cushions on rolled it onto his length before you slowly rose from your knees and straddled his frame. Stealing a quick kiss from his lips, you aligned his cock with your entrance and slowly sunk down.

The feeling of Ashton’s cock entering your slit overwhelmed all of your senses. Enjoying the moments, you wanted to savor the feeling of being stretched out and filled just a little bit longer.

“Move, please,” Ashton gritted out between his clenched teeth. Placing his hands on your hips, he tried to force you to move, but you just brushed his hands away.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly moved your hips, rocking them back and forth and up and down. Your movements were slow at first, wanting to make him briefly pay for his cruel punishment, but that resolve soon broke as need took over your body.

Throaty moans and grunts left both of your lips. The sound of your skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the house as Ashton’s hips began to meet yours halfway.

Blinded by all of the overwhelming sensations, you barely noticed Ashton’s hands making their way down to your clit rubbing and teasing you, making holding back almost impossible.

Your body was already stimulated from riding his thigh, so between Ashton’s rough thrusts and his fingers working their magic, it didn’t take long for you to feel the knot forming in your gut once again.

“Ash, fuck, Ash, I’m almost there. Fuck, I-,” you could barely form a sentence; your mind a jumbled mess.

“Not yet, doll. Not yet.” He punctuated his words with rough thrusts.

“Ash-”

“No, doll. Hold it- fuck, just hold it, doll.”

Letting out a whine, you were disappointed but still listened, trying the best you could to hold back.

Ashton’s movements became more and more desperate as he felt you struggling to keep your orgasm at bay. His fingers roughly dug into your hips and his thrusts became sloppier as his started to reach his edge.

With one more thrust, Ashton buried himself inside of you and came with a loud groan, and the feeling of his come filling you up sent you over the edge.

Your body leaned on his for support riding out your orgasm as Ashton’s fingers continued to play with your sensitive bud amplifying you pleasure.

Coming down from your high, you felt your boyfriend place a gentle kiss on your temple and mumble about how good you were in your eye. Raising your hips up slightly, Ashton pulled out and discarded the condom in the bin by the sofa before pulling your body closer once again.

Slightly pulling back, you captured his moving lips in a soft kiss expressing your gratitude for everything that played out tonight. It has exceeded your expectations.

Pulling back, you rested your head on Ashton’s shoulder as the both of you rested from your prior activities.

Once he regained a little bit of energy, your boyfriend stood up and walked to the bathroom with you still in his arms.

Setting you onto the counter, Ashton silently ran a warm bath for the both of you to relax your muscles.

When the temperature of the water was just right, you and Ashton stepped into the tub and tried to find a comfortable position.

Taking turns, you and Ashton created a rhythm going back and forth lathering and rinsing each other’s body. No words were exchanged during these intimate moments as you both savored each other’s presences.

All cleaned up, you drained the tub as Ashton stepped out to dry himself before wrapping the towel around you. As you dried yourself off, Ashton walked into the closet and grabbed a pair of shorts for him and an oversized t-shirt for you.

“Arms up, doll.” Shuffling over to where you stood, Ashton bunched the shirt up and threaded your arms through the sleeves and let the fabric fall to the top of your thighs.

Before you could even thank him, Ashton had picked you up bridal style swinging you back and forth while walking toward the foot of your bed.

Gently placing you on the bed he made sure you were comfortable before climbing into his side of the bed and pulled you into his side.

Pulling your lips in for a kiss, you couldn’t help but close your eyes and savor this moment.

Sure, you loved when Ashton was the overly confident asshole, but this tender side of him was your favorite.

You were the first to pull away, and leaned your forehead against his. Opening your eyes, you gazed into his gorgeous eyes and saw the immense love that Ashton had for you.

“I love you so much, Ashton.” You were the first to break the silence, hoping that your voice truly conveyed how much you meant those words.

The corners of his lips turned upwards as his grip around your waist tighten.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, doll. I love you”

---

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[bbrandy2002]

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Five

Trigger Warning: Suicide and Violence

Word Count: 1720

A/N: Thank you @burnsoslow for prereading most of this and @sirbeepsalot for bouncing ideas around and saving my ass again.

Only one or two chapter left.

Olivia shifted away cautiously, her eyes focused on Amalas, as she prepared to defend herself to the death. Her heart pounding with great exertion, her Nevrakis blood pumping ravenously through icy veins, preparing for a battle that was too soon to wage. The price she was paying for Cordonia was worth it, but, only if she succeeded.

She reaches for the garter under her skirt, ready to strike, to end Amalas once and for all. This was the plan months ago, but, if they ever had any hopes of finding the young prince, she fears an impulsive move could be disasterous. She grips the handle tighter, droplets of moisture pool to her colorless face, confident that she is in her element. This is what she was born for and every fiber of her being, validates her skills.

Amalas glares into her green eyes, the ones that carry a hint of red hot fire and brimstone, reading Olivia like a book. Its at this moment she knows...Olivia is a traitor, but, not to the one she thought.

A rage burrows itself deep in her skin with her smile matching Olivia's curled grin.

Both women bite their lips, curious as to whom would be stealthier, more lethal, more accurate. Amalas clutches her hidden dagger, so sharp, it can cut tension and betrayal with a single swipe.

Olivia's background in weaponry and her position on top of Amalas gives her the edge. Sensing her advantage, she makes her move. Her knife slides smoothly from her garter as Amalas raises her dagger from the floor.

A clash of metal thunders together, Amalas kicking Olivia off of her, she drops to the floor, landing gracefully on her back. The Black Widow raises her dagger as she straddles the Scarlett Duchess, whom is able to pierce her side, halted by ribs from taking out her hardened heart.

Amalas falls to her side, clutching the fresh wound, blood seeping like a broken dam. Olivia knows this battle is far from over-this is just the first cut, but, then again...the first cut is usually the deepest.

She flashes a superior smile, intense heat radiating from her heaving chest, it's time to go on the offensive. Father said to never underestimate the enemy while they're down.

She stands upright, circling Amalas like a vulture, her teeth gritting, adrenaline surging, waiting eagerly for the kill shot. Her enemy winces, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, not even close to being finished.

Olivia steadies herself into the defensive position, "Where is Prince Nikolas?"

Amalas locks her gaze on Olivia, a slight chuckle comes out as she slashes her dagger through empty air. She wants just one hit on Olivia, to even the score, to shed the blood of the Cordonian traitor on Monterriso ground. She sways her body, feet planted firmly, "So, that's what this was.....well played Duchess...you certainly fooled me".

"It was easier than I anticipated", Olivia jets back, avoiding the next slash in her direction, "you should know by now, never trust a Nevrakis". She lunges her knife forward, grazing Amalas' arm and in return is met with a dagger lodged into her upper shoulder. Olivia's knife launches away from her.

Amalas grabs a glass vase from the end table of the sofa and shatters it across Olivia's head. Her red hair is littered with glass as she bounces off the floor.

Without hesitation, Amalas strikes, jerking the dagger from Olivia's shoulder and gripping it solidly above her lean frame.

She underestimates me. Olivia reaches for her arm, using strength and speed to force Amalas to lose her power over her. A struggle ensues between two equally, lethal women of great intelligence and tactics.

_________

Liam received the encrypted text from Olivia just mere moment's after returning from his press conference.

He watches Riley swallow another pill to help her anxiety, sometimes she's there, sometimes she not. After placing her glass on the table beside her, she can feel his gaze on her and it causes her to shake violently in fear. It doesn't take much to trigger her, a word, his cologne, touch, the sound of doors opening....everything and anyone is Bradshaw. He taunts her in her sleep and during consciousness, keeping her baby away from her with one hand and touching her intimately with the other.

She grips her sheets tighter and Liam can tell that the tension is rising in her, she's preparing her mind to relive her hell again. He yells for the psychiatrist as her relentless, desperate pleas for help shout from her lips. She's trapped again and there is nothing he can do to save her, except one thing, and he is close to making it a reality for her.

As the doctor comes in to attend to her, he walks to his closet, grabbing a small carry on bag, stuffing it with only the essentials. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Daddy is coming Nikolas.

Liam steps out from the closet, longing to hold his wife, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but, she can't handle it. He whispers his love to her from across the room and exits, he has to meet Drake and Bastien at the car. Can he truly defeat the evil forces working against him? Is Olivia's information correct about Nikolas' possible whereabouts? He didn't know, only time would tell.

To everyone in Cordonia, Olivia went missing in Valtoria, yet, Liam knew she had been working to uncover Amalas' plans for months. The day of the attack, the widow met with him under the guise of peace, but, he sees now that it was a distraction to separate him from his child, his heir.

Under the hidden blanket of darkness, careful to avoid watchful eyes, Liam, Drake and Bastien leave for the airport.

Liam bounces his leg wildly in the plain, unmarked car, his nerves getting the best of him, sweaty palms wiped dry on his pants.

Drake gives him a sympathetic look as he peaks back from the front passenger seat, but, doesn't say anything, knowing Liam is processing this plan in his mind. Everyone in Cordonia had heard enough of the "it's going to be okay's", to last forever. Truth be told, Drake didn't know if it would, the whole thing was so fucking risky, why tell Liam a lie.

As the car pulls up to the Royal Jet, Liam stares at Drake for a moment, a look of trepidation and fear.  On Drake's shoulders, he was placing the most important task he had ever trusted anyone to do. To him, however, if Drake couldn't do it, no one could.

"Be careful Liam".

"Don't worry about me....just get Nik...please".

Drake nodded as Liam stepped from the car, bag in hand, and boarded the plane to Monterisso. He was meeting with Amalas, without security, without a friend, alone. Olivia would have to his only protection.

In case they were followed, Drake and Bastien drove to a small, undamaged airfield in Ramsford, boarding a private plane. They, too, were headed for Monterisso, in hopes of finding Nikolas and bringing him home.

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

Riley tossed and turned in her bed, the light of the full moon shining through the window. Suddenly, her breath became more labored, her eyes fluttered rapidly, her throat became tighter.

She sat up, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, her brown eyes sweeping the room, catching glimpses of Bradshaw in every corner. She couldn't scream, her body frozen , the room spinning in chaos around her. He was haunting her, the laughing, the crying, the blood of Leo dripping from her trembling hands.

She looked at the space on the bed next to her, Liam laid there with his hands rested on his stomach and a dagger sticking from his chest.

"L..Liam?", she whispered in astonishment.

Her head bobbed and weaved, she had no more tears to offer. She rolled suddenly to her side, dropping to the floor below, covering her ears.

Riley could still hear the voices, the cackles, the mocking, "GO AWAY!!!".

In one week, she had lost her son, Maxwell, her dignity, Leo, and now, she believes, the only man she ever loved. What did she have left to live for? A godforsaken country that would be a constant reminder of what she sacrificed for it.

She lifted a shaky hand to her night table, searching for her pitcher of water. Once she found it, she poured the liquid on the floor next to her. With her heart beating faster and emptiness filling her body, she shattered the glass container on the leg of her table.

Riley picked up the largest piece she could find and placed it against her wrist. Pressing deeply, the first drop of blood came to the surface and ran the length of her arm.

"Riley!!!"

She jolted and paused to search for the familiar voice that brought her comfort once again, "Maxwell..... is that you?"

All the chaos and fear dissipated from the room. All went silent and her physical pain from the injuries were felt again. With great difficulty, she lifted herself enough from the floor to see if Liam was dead on their bed. He was gone, but, even in her relief, she had a feeling something bad was going to happen to him.

Her bedroom door opened and she heard rapid footstep approaching. The nurse assigned to her crouched down beside her to scan her self wounded wrist. The nurse ran out and returned with her first aid kit and began to bandage the small wound Riley had inflicted.

"Where is the King?", she asked.

"Your Majesty, he had to leave for the night"

Riley lowered her head, watching intently on the bandage being placed around her wrist and the feeling of unease returned.

She searched the nurses confused eyes, her jaw tensed, "He's.. not coming home".

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

Liam was escorted to the door by Amalas' guards, as shouts and clashing echoed from inside. He could distinctly hear Olivia in distress and he attempted to open the door himself, but, was stopped by her guards from proceeding.

Frantic, he yells in his kingly voice, "Amalas!"

The fighting stops and seconds later the door slowly opens; its her, battered, bloodied, and breathless.

Even in distress, a toothy grin forms on her face at his presence.

"Liam".

"Amalas"

Tags: @khakie4 @jemrmax2love @princess-geek @rainbowsinthestorm @annekebbphotography @ao719 @texaskitten30 @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @lodberg @romanticatheart-posts @duchessemersynwalker @cordoniansqueen @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @innerpostmentality @hopefulmoonobject @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @janezillow @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @dcbbw @moonlightgem7 @a-cordonian-arylu @polishchoicesfan @jessiembruno @lovemychoices @mallorycortez @angi15h @gardeningourmet @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

Honorary tag since you just posted about it: @kingliam2019

[avengerscompound]

The Unicorn - Chapter 26

The Unicorn:  A Pepperony Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS  //

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count:    1640

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader x Pepper Potts

Warnings:  birth stuff!

Synopsis:  After being on bedrest for a while, the twins decide it’s time to make their entrance.

Chapter 26

If being on maternity leave had been hard for you, being on bed rest was nearly impossible.  Thankfully Pepper was now on maternity leave too which meant it wasn’t just up to him to entertain you.  It was definitely much, much harder to think of ways to entertain you now.  So having two people to sit and keep you company helped.

Still, there were a lot of pages from FRIDAY throughout the day.  Sometimes it was to bring you some plans you’d been working on.  Sometimes it was because you were sick of using the tablet to read and now you wanted a book.  Sometimes it was because of cravings.  Sometimes it was because you wanted a back rub or a foot rub or the babies were kicking and you wanted him to tell them to cut it out.  Sometimes you didn’t even have a reason exactly.  You just wanted him there.

He played like it was this big deal.  Slumping in the room with every page.  Rolling his eyes.  Making over exaggerated groaning sounds.  He loved it though.  Or more, he was happy doing it if it meant you and the babies were safe.

Pepper while not being as demanding as you were, still liked taking advantage of the fact that if she said jump, Tony asked how high.  Sometimes you and Pepper would each just lie together in bed talking as he rubbed both your feet.

The babies were healthy.  So he was happy.  He’d do whatever he needed to to make sure you and Pepper were both relaxed and happy so when the time came he’d have two healthy moms and three healthy babies.  He wasn’t risking that for anyone.

The birthing suite was finished being built and he’d noticed with the promise of a school and a childcare center and special maternity care the usual turnover of scientists and field agents wasn’t happening.  Maybe that would change.  His people were poachable and if other companies and organizations wanted the best, they took them from him.  This year though, it dropped to less than half previous years numbers.  It turned out, having kids wasn’t just going to be good for him.  It was good for SI and the Avengers too.

The pregnancy progressed well from the incident.  Though you were being carefully monitored.  Each week that passed meant Tony let go of that fear of losing them and started getting excited again.  When you reached 35 weeks Tony actually thought maybe you had a chance of getting to the 37 weeks they wanted.  Even if you didn’t.  You were full-term for twins.  He would relax if he wasn’t so excited about it.

It was almost 36 weeks when he was making you one of your pickle and peanut butter sandwiches that you disgustingly seemed to be craving at the moment.  He couldn’t even make sense of that.  You were supposed to be over them.  He didn’t argue with you though.  If you wanted a pickle and peanut butter sandwich.  Then you would get a pickle and peanut butter sandwich.

“Mister Stark, they want you in the bedroom,”  FRIDAY said.

He sighed and shook his head.  “Tell her to be patient.  I’m doing it.”

“No, Tony.  This is different.  You don’t need to worry about the sandwich.”  FRIDAY replied.

Tony froze, the knife falling out of his hand and landed on the counter with a clatter.  It felt like his heart stopped.  “FRIDAY what is it?”

“Perhaps you should just go into the bedroom, sir.”

Tony spun and ran into the bedroom pulling up hard when he saw you out of bed and Pepper helping you out of your nightgown.

“What is it?”  He asked trying to take in the room and get an idea of what had happened.  The blankets were pulled back on the bed and there was a large wet patch in the middle of it.  “Is it the babies?  Did something happen?”

“You could say that,”  Pepper said as she tossed the nightgown into the laundry hamper.

“My water just broke.”  You said.

“What?”  He said coming over and putting his hands on your stomach.  “You’re not having labor pains?”

You shook your head.  “No.  Nothing yet.  But that was crazy dramatic.”

“We gotta get her down to surgery.  FRIDAY has paged the medical team.”  Pepper said and went into the closet.

“We’re having the babies?”  Tony asked.

“Yeah, we are.  Ada and Edwin are on their way.”   You said.

“Oh, my god.”  He said and kissed you.  It was an excited kiss, full of love and hope and a little tinge of terror that you weren’t quite ready yet.  “Oh my god, honey.  It’s happening.”

“It is.  Now let me get some clothes on so I don’t have to walk through the compound naked first.”

He let you go and you dressed in a simple maxi dress and you and Pepper tried to support you as the three of you made your way down to the medical wing.  Not that you made it easy for them.  Given you weren’t in any pain yet and you hadn’t been allowed out of bed for much more than trips to the bathroom, you were pretty adamant you could walk yourself.

When you got to the medbay a large group of people was waiting for you.

“Two of the babies going to join us today, huh?”  Doctor Singh said greeting you all.

“Seems that way.”  You said.

“Well come through here and we’ll check you out.  See what happens next.”

The examination showed you were two centimeters dilated so you changed into a surgical gown and were moved into the surgical room, where Tony had you lean on him as they put the epidural in.

“God that is a huge fucking needle,”  Tony said as they put the local anesthetic into the site they planned for the epidural.

“You’re not going to faint are you?”  The anesthetist asked.

“How dare you?  I’m Iron Man.”  Tony joked, but he was worried it might be a close call.

Luckily it went in with no problem and you lay down and the rest of the preparation began.  IVs were put in, a screen was put up and the surgical site was prepped.  Pepper and Tony sat side-by-side next to you.  Tony held your hand and Pepper kept hers over yours.  He could vaguely see what was happening past the curtain.  The passing around of sponges and suctions and scalpels.  He resisted the urge to look, instead just focusing on you.

“Feels weird.”  You said, grimacing.

“Are you in pain?”  Pepper asked, her voice full of concern.

You shook your head.  “No.  Just… like pressure and pulling.”

“It won’t be long, but yes, it’s a very odd sensation.”  Doctor Singh assured you.

She wasn’t kidding it was less than ten minutes before the first baby was eased out of you.  “You have a son.”  She said, clamping the umbilical and cutting it.

He looked just like you.  Like none of Tony’s genes were passed along at all.  He was wiped down quickly and shown to you.  “Oh my goodness.  Look at him.”  You said, tears pricking your eyes.

“He’s beautiful, honey.  Look at our little boy.”  Pepper said, her own eyes glistening with tears.

“Make way for your daughter.”  The doctor said as she eased Ada out.

Tony was shocked by how quick it all happened.  This time the baby just reminded him of him.  All his dominant genes coming out and overwhelming Pepper’s.   The two babies started squalling as they were held close to your skin.

“Do you both want to come and do skin contact with them?”  The nurse asked.

“Please don’t leave me.”  You said looking around panicked.

Tony’s hand tightened in yours and he looked from the babies to you to Pepper.

“You go,”  Pepper said.  “I’ll stay here with her.”

“You’re sure?”  He asked.

Pepper nodded.  “There will be plenty of time to hold babies.”

Tony nodded and got up and he was lead to the Intensive care room that the babies would be kept in until they were ready to go home.  They were taken to be weighed and cleaned up.  They were given their first vaccination and their vitamin k injection and then put into diapers.  Tony took off his shirt and sat down in the big lounge chair and both Ada and Edwin were placed on his chest.  They were so tiny and so fragile and they both stopped crying within a minute of him holding them.

His heart felt full as he looked down at his tiny babies.  Both of them looking up at him with wide eyes.  The dark, jewel-like blue that occurs in babies due to the way they melanin still settling, looked so otherworldly.  They were wrinkling and weird looking, yet the most beautiful babies he’d ever seen.  He loved them.  He loved them in a way he’d never loved anyone before.  Completely and unconditionally.

“Hey there, little ones.  I’m your dad.”  He whispered as he stroked his thumbs down his back.  “I promise I’m not going to be anything like my old man was.  You guys are gonna be so loved and so well taken care of.  You don’t have to worry about anything.”

He sat with them for a little while before the nursing staff took them again.  They were hooked up to feeding tubes and monitors and put into the incubators where they would spend most of their time as they got bigger.  He sat and watched them until Pepper came in.  “Our girl is out of surgery.  She’s just in recovery now.  How are they doing?”  She asked.

“They’re good.  A little small.  But they’re strong.”  He said.

She smiled and kissed the top of his head.  “Just like their dad.”

// NEXT

[koolkvat-blog]

       hello  loves  ,   what’s  up  !   i’m  super  excited  to  be  here  &  to  finally  play  my  precious girl  ,   jade aka kool kat   .   i’m  LOLA  ,   use  she / her prounouns  ,   i am NINETEEN  ,   &   i  am  currently  in  the  gmt + 1 timezone  which  means  yes  ,  my  ass should’ve  been  awake  for  intro  posting  but  i  don’t  know  what  time  management  is  and  ended  up  swamped  w/  work  ,  so  !   everything   you  need  to  know  about  about  miss  kat  is  under  the  cut  ,   &  i’m  rlly  thrilled  to  be  apart  of  such  a  wonderful  rp  with  such  gorgeous  muses  .  corniness over  ––   if  you’re  looking  to  plot  sumn  out  ,   just  hit  that   ♥︎    &   i’ll  make  my  way  on  over  to  ur  dms  ,  or  feel  free  to  add  me  up   on  discord  which  i’ll  give  in im’s  if  anybody’s  interested  !   ♡♡♡         tw  :   family issues  ,  body image issues  &  drug mention  ( not  explicit ) . 

001 . SYNOPSIS  . FULL     NAME  .      jade        kikuchi . NICKNAMES  .      kool kat    . AGE  .      twenty - one . DATE     OF     BIRTH  .      twenty  -  seventh     of     september   ,     1993      /     libra . PLACE     OF     BIRTH  .      harajuku ,   tokyo ,     japan .         GENDER  .       cisgender     female . SEXUALITY  .     (  closeted  )  pansexual  . NATIONALITY  .      japanese  ,  now  american  too  after  successfully  gaining  citizenship  . ETHNICITY  .      asian  . OCCUPATION  .       fashion designer at katz designz      ,     former  fashion  design  and  journalist  student  back  in  her  original  timeline  . PLAYLIST  .      here  !  (  +  )     charismatic , enthusiastic , warm , energetic , adventurous , compassionate , animated . (  -  )     deceptive ,  independent ,  emotional , territorial , ambitious , impulsive , temperamental , insecure , sarcastic .  

002 . AESTHETIC  .      wheatgrass  smoothies , 90′s  anime  with  subtitles  , chanel  no. 5, speeding  on  a  desert  road  with  the  windows  down ,  painting  your  toenails  on  the  dashboard ,  neon  prints ,  cat  lazing  on  a  balcony  in  the  sun , black  lace ,  japanese  horror  films  ,  sour  cocktails  with  sugar  around  the  rim , half - smoked  cigarettes ,  stacks  of  fashion  magazines , long  hair  hastily  dyed  different  colours in  a  motel  bathroom ,  thrift  stores   .

003. INFORMATION  .

tl;dr : a flighty, inattentive adventurer: a follower of whims; personable and sociable but lacks the skills to maintain relationships because she’s entirely (and perhaps too) career focused, checks her horoscope daily and entirely relies on the stars when concerning relationships, epitome of a britney spears / gwen stefani stan back in the 2000′s, still owns a (bedazzled) flip phone, collector of vintage fashion (chanel, elle, juicy couture etc.) a subscriber to the Leonardo Da Vinci sleeping method; catch her at 2 am making soufflés or buying plane tickets to shiwei so she can really experience the culture: will tell you she loves you ten minutes after first introduction because she’s high: kind of unintentionally insensitive to those she doesn’t know and closed off but in like a cool, lovable way. 

•    heads up im running on like 5 hrs sleep so sry when this inevitably derails ! ok sweet let’s get into this . 

•    so as aforementioned this is jade kukichi, aka, kool kat. she was dubbed that by her friends due to her unique fashion style and sense of dress, and it’s stuck. lbr nobody other than her friends can use that term so if you do, she’s just going to stare at u for a quick sec before saying ‘it’s jade’. 

•    born in harajuku, tokyo to a cardiothoracic surgeon of a father and a politician of a mother, jade grew up traveling the world and becoming flighty af, never thinking she was going to make long - term friends and kinda being okay with that. 

•    her family has never stayed in one place for very long, though her aging parents eventually settled into a permanent residence in the us around the time she turned sixteen, not soon enough for jade to break the habit of wandering, but thankfully quick enough for her to meet the bratz girls who were just as adventurous and fun - loving as she. she's spent much of her teen life jumping from place to place wherever her interests are that moment, collecting people along the way, but to find friends was the only thing she was missing. jade has a brilliant mind, but she lacks patience and follow through. she needs guidance or she'll jump from idea to idea, job to job, whim to whim.

•    ngl, jade pretty much hated her home life. her parents were an overbearing presence in her life, her mother wanting jade to be a proper lady who also went into a profession like theirs (entirely serious and stifling when it came to creativity, doctor, politician, lawyer etc.) while jade herself wanted to check out the latest trends and go to the mall w her friends – so she turned all of her focus and energy into getting good grades in everything she wanted to do in the hopes that she could be the most successful fashion designer, then leaving town forever. 

•    like she spent 7 yrs in high school graduating w honours but she barely knew what was happening in 9/10 of her classes and sometimes she just slept through classes and then wing her exams which she miraculously did well at. it was just not a good idea to send jade to a public school at 11 after being in boarding school for the rest of her life and then never really enforce any rules :~\ she has trouble with that kind of thing.. as in making logical choices instead of saying "YEAH lets go watch american psycho and smoke weed!" skipping chemistry to do just that 

•    she loves fun and values doing what makes her happy over most things. it's hard to pin her down and she spends most of her life chasing after ideas that don't really follow any sort of conscious order, bc she’s really got that ‘i’ve got dreams and i’m gonna do everything in my power to achieve them’ personality. 

•    according to bratz canon she’s worked as literally everything ? she’s one of those insufferable people who r just. good everything ig and that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. jade’s been a photographer, a song - writer and bass player in a rock band (shout out to bratz rock angelz the best movie w the best soundtrack ever), a student studying fashion design, a fashion columnist, a quickly fired nanny, and many other things in between. 

•    so when she appears in toonsville she’s kind of out of it that she’s not doing something w her skills and sets up her own business which she loves ? being her own boss suits her fine (for now) because she’s got a Real Job and she's actually trying rly hard so she can fulfill her dreams !! like suck it mom nd dad haha !!!

•    jade has a lot of weird feelings TM about her body and her looks and struggles a lot with her self confidence :~( she had a shit time at school with boys saying she was too thin and she compensated by acting like she didn't like anyone at all for a while and now she thinks she isn't good enough for anyone when rly she is a cinnamon bun too good for this world too pure 

•    best friend ever she is so good at being a friend if u text her at 3am to go out or cry on her shoulder shes ready to go at 3:15 even if she was sleeping w lots of snacks and treats and love!!! she is sooo extroverted around those she’s comfortable w, she gains so much energy from being around people and she loves being nice and being around ppl she likes 

•    she becomes the mom of groups pretty easily (hence why she’s the leader of the bratz) bc she bottles up most of her own problems to help ppl with theirs!! which is toxic yea but she puts people first always so !! plz help her poor repressed soul!! rip kool kat.. 

•    still super into the stuff of her time so like.. she loves the x files and bad reality tv shows (i want to be a hilton) and reads gossip magazines on the reg because she enjoys that stuff! also very into girl groups.. ginger spice / posh spice is an eternal mood.  

•    anyway yes sweet adult-child of 21 (she is in denial about that tho like she doesn't want to be childish) who is v nice v kind v loyal v baked a lot of time, v passionate v silly. idk what i'm doin hope u like it < 3

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS . 

friends / best friends / ride or dies . jade genuinely loves people, loves talking to strangers and getting into intense conversations with people she’s only just met, learning other people’s way of life and bettering herself for getting. she is, however, incredibly blunt and has never once minced words to keep from hurting someone’s feelings or to ease them into a situation. she’d much rather have a one-time conversation with a stranger than make long lasting relationships. she has three very close friends –  to the point of co - dependence –  and honestly, she’d rather spend all of her time doing things she loves such as her hobbies, sticking her nose into the latest vogue, or searching for cute collars and treats for her cat mica w them instead of making new friends. she's also FUN and she'd be happy to go on crazy road trips or buy out a movie theater for a day or anything that she thinks will her buds happy. she's traveled all over, so she’s v well read and cultured. she loves people but she hates complication and won't deal with any sort of emotional labor. she wants to live in the moment and expects everyone in her life to do so as well. just be chill, y'all. 

frenemies / enemies /  rivals  . please be her enemy, she needs people to antagonize shdhshd. she grew up pretty much affluent so she’s pretty spoiled even if she doesn’t want to admit it, and that rebellious side of her hasn’t died down yet. despite the fact that she is wealthy and in good community standing, she has a hard time letting go of childish grudges. in general she’s got a lot of suppressed feelings and ready to fight everyone who hurts her friends – like an irritated cat – so, honestly, come at her ? she is sometimes a little fickle and flighty and a unintentionally stuck up when it comes to art / fashion and she has definitely said the wrong thing at the wrong time and pissed the wrong people off, she can’t stand anyone underestimating her or thinking she’s dumb bc she’s interested in fashion. like gtfo !

ex’s , fwb’s , possible love interests .  jade is fairly fluid romantically and is the type of person who hates labels but also just wants to be cherished and called cute pet names lowkey. she loves a lot and gives a lot to her relationships, but typically doesn't want to commit to anything important. she’s gone from one disastrous relationship to another, ending up with a boyfriend who constantly ridiculed her image that was essentially the catalyst for her cutting off romantic ties, quite a recent wound before she found herself on the island actually. worst thing is tht she’s convinced herself that she’s been the problem in these relationships –  that she turns good people bad or that she is too much for people to deal with, she’s not sure what the issue is and she doesn’t really want to know. so…. fuck everything amirite ? anyway, she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man. 

etc . pls give me people jade can give a makeover to, people she shares an apartment w on the island, people who think fashion is girly and vapid.. creatives who love what she’s doing, anything tbh << 3

[kainks]

D1.

pairing: dom!hoseok x reader

warnings: D/s play, small bits of insecurity, spanking, use of a riding crop, hoseok is a good dom okay

words: 1.695

prompt: “I can’t wait to bruise up this body.”

//

for DAY ONE of my daily hobi drabbles for the month of february!

LINK to the post and LINK to send in more prompts!

It was so easy, to let yourself fall beneath his hands. It didn’t take much from him, a steady gaze, firm voice, and you were gone in the bliss of your own mind. He knew this too, loved to push your body to its limits, see how far he could have you drowning in pleasure until you were sated and glowing under his caressing hands.

“You’ve never looked better, pet.”

Warm fingertips ran over the apple of your cheek in a slow caress, smoothing down the length of your neck, thumb tracing along your collarbone lightly. It was unnerving, how delicate he was handling you. You were already a ruined mess, him having fucked you twice already in the span of an hour. Hair in disarray, cum glistening on your chest and stomach, you thought you looked anything but perfect. It was as if he sensed your doubts, from where you sat perched on your knees before him, the back of your thighs resting on your calves in a stretch that was all too familiar now. Completely naked, while he was fully dressed, the closest thing to looking disheveled was the state of his hair and the way his jeans hung low on his hips, unbuttoned and waiting to be slid down for another session with your mouth.

“Say it, tell me how ravishing you look right now.”

It was a test, it always was with him involved. He knew your biggest weakness was accepting yourself, especially in the same ways he looked at you. It was a test you were doomed to fail from the start, which he also knew. A part of you wanted to scream, yell that this was unfair, that your heart wasn’t ready to delve into such deep, troubling emotions. Ones that you hadn’t prepared yourself in handling.

It was comfortable with him, he understood your boundaries, your desires, like no other. In a sense, he was perfectly compatible with what you wanted and needed. When you longed for a authoritative hand, that was punishing and unforgiving, he was there. If it was gentle words and slow strokes, he would give you that and more. Or if it was a mixture of the two, he always provided your body and mind with what it needed most. He was yours, as much as you were his. Which is why he had made it his all or nothing mission to prove to you, show you, that your body was a temple made for his hands and mouth. He was determined to show you your worth, at any means necessary.

“I- I can’t.” You breathed, breaking your stare to look down at your thighs. The muscles ached from the previous positions he had manhandled you into, the burn a welcoming pain that seemingly enhanced your pleasure all the same.

“Can’t, or won’t?” He tutted, and you could practically feel him shake his head in disappointment. Your heart stilled at that, because if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was disappointing him.

“Hose-”

His hands were in your hair in an instant, fingers digging into the base of your scalp until your head was tilted up at him, baring your throat in an act of forced submission.

“What was that?”

“Sir!” You corrected breathlessly, thighs clenching together at the flex of his jaw, and the steel look in his eyes. They were fixated on you, daring you to be disobedient again, which you rightfully refused to do. This particular time, you weren’t in the mood for testing him.

“Tell me pet, do you enjoy displeasing me?”

You quickly shook your head, motions limited by the tight grasp he still had on the sensitive strands of hair. It burned, the back of your neck tingling from the pull.

“Of course not, you know I don’t.”

In an instant, tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. You hated crying in front of him, hated to seem weak in ways you knew you were. Tears from pleasure were far different than tears from sorrow and pain. From disappointment in yourself.

He saw this, eyes softening just the slightest before he was releasing his grip to kneel down before you, sharing an equal ground with you, a rare occurrence whenever you both were deep into a scene. Yet you supposed the emotional turmoils you were facing had inclined him to change things up, just this once.

You felt his palms envelope each side of your face, bringing you towards him into a searing kiss. It was like life had entered you once again, your body melting against his strong hold that felt entirely too safe, too secure. Much to your dismay, he was pulling away all too soon, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue.

“Dry those tears.”

Despite his words, he did it for you, thumbs briskly wiping away the wetness beneath each eye. Your hands came up to cling onto the front of his shirt, thin cotton bunching beneath your weak hold. Usually, you weren’t allowed to touch unless specifically told to; you were thankful how he let your misdoing slide, just this once.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Your bottom lip trembled, yet he hushed you quickly. “Don’t ever apologize for being upset, for letting yourself fall too hard, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, I understand.”

He smiled at your reply, and instantly you felt lighter. He had a knack for lifting your spirits with a simple smile, because it was the fondness behind such a gesture that warmed you to the core. You didn’t doubt the love he had for you, just as he didn’t doubt how deeply you cared for him.

“Now, are you okay to carry on?” He asked softly, words almost a whisper. “And don’t even think about lying to me, you know what happened last time.”

Your body shivered hotly at the fond, yet overstimulating memory. “I want to continue, please .”

He hummed in content, praising you softly. “Good girl, asking so nicely.”

Placing a gentle kiss to your nose, which earned a soft laugh from you in return, he was standing back up, reaffirming his earlier position to which you were grateful.

“Bend over the bed, pet. I have a special surprise for you.”

Quickly standing, your legs felt like jelly as you walked to the bed. The pin pricks made your feet tickle with each step, from having been in the same position for far too long. As you bent your body over cotton sheets, you let the side of your face rest against the mattress, eyes closing in a temporary bliss. The sounds from behind you, most likely him rummaging through the closet of your shared bedroom, made your pulse quicken. You were never very good with surprises.

“Here we go, perfect.” You could already see him smiling to himself at finding whatever it is he had been searching for. Heavy footsteps neared their way back to you, until he was resting the front of his thighs against your left hip. At the angle you were bent, you had a perfect curve in your spine, body laid out for him in the way you knew he loved best.

“What a nice view.” He chuckled. “And to think, it’s all for me. Mine to do as I please with.”

His hand trailed down the length of your spine, dipping into the curve of your waist, before digging his nails into the meatier part of your bottom. You hissed at the initial sting, welcomed the dull pain and resulting pleasure that came from such a small action.

“Your body,” He started, “is a work of art pet. My very own canvas to paint as I see fit.”

Suddenly, you felt the unfamiliar weight of something soft and smooth against the back of your right thigh. Confusion fell over your face at the easy glide of it against your skin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t round like a paddle, wasn’t thin like a cane. It was something different, new, and that simple fact had you tensing just the slightest.

“Easy.” He comforted, sensing your hesitation almost instantly. “It’s nothing we haven’t discussed before, you should know what this is.”

Labored breaths escaped your chest in heavy gasps, the bed suddenly feeling too suffocating for your liking. You invaded your mind, pondering over what such a sensation could be. So deeply lost in your own thoughts, you hardly heard the swish of air ring throughout the otherwise quiet room, until a firm yet light smack was placed onto the back of your thigh.

“Ah!” You jumped, startled out of your own mind.

A resulting chuckle was what you got in response, deep, and clearly pleased with your overall reaction.

“Did that one sting pet? The leather of this is rather heavy.”

Lifting your head to look over your shoulder, you were rewarded with another smack, equal in intensity, yet on the opposite thigh this time.

“Eyes forward.”

You whined just the slightest at being denied, which only earned you another trio of heavy, stinging smacks to your bottom. You sucked in air through your teeth as he let whatever it was rest against the blooming red of your skin.

“Any guesses pet?”

He sounded entirely too content at your ignorance, at the game he was making you endure. The sharp stings had already faded into dull throbs, your thighs clenching together deliciously so. With your fingers digging into sheets, you self-indulgently pushed back for more.

“Greedy little thing.”

Smack.

“I asked, do you have any guesses?”

Twice more on the bend of your right knee, the tendons flexing from the resounding sting that lingered far longer than the others. You inhaled a gulp of air, your lungs seemingly burning from holding your breath in anticipation for the next hit.

“N-no, sir.”

A sigh was heard, yet lacked any disappointment at your response. If anything, he seemed overly eager with his next words, accompanying them with more dutiful swats to your skin, watching it blossom into an enticing red.

“Well then,” His voice was honeyed, raspy in reply. “I can’t wait to bruise up this body.”

s c r e a m s

[wotzup]

CH10- Petals

And here I am. yeah I did say that I would update every weekend since it's summer vacation but I've been going to visit my cousins or my other relatives every week ever since vacation began. Updates will be irregular but I'll try to get the chapter out as soon as I can.

[the vital headcannon] [CH1] [CH2] [CH3] [CH4] [CH5] [CH6] [CH7] [CH8] [CH9

And here we go -->

Riko smashed the keys of the piano for the umpteenth time as she was started by an explosion from on end of the castle followed by a voice cursing loudly. Her hands hovered over the keys as she tried to play her favorite instrument once again. She waited for a moment to see of there was going to another one but nothing came. She had only pressed a key, she heard another explosion and another round of yelling right after it. She was trying to distract herself from the aching of her heart with music but with the sudden explosions every now and then wasn't helping. She wanted to stop blaming herself for not being able to save You. She was so close yet...

If she could only get herself together that time. She was such a scaredy cat. All she did was stand there and shoot useless flowers at someone who easily dodged them or just deflected them with a flick of a finger. Even her crossbow stood no chance him as he effortlessly dodged every arrow. How could one be so strong? Then again that was only Riko's third quest. She wasn't all that experienced. If only she could use those flowers to some good use. Maybe she could ask Nozomi to guide her, she did have some scarily accurate magic.

Getting up from the seat, she made her way through the winding and confusing corridors of the lavish castle to Nozomi's tower, the source of the explosions. She had walked in these corridors many times, so there wasn't any problem reaching the door of her room, that is after a steep climb up the stairs to the top of the tower. 'How did Yoshiko do this everyday?' she trudged up the stairs her legs aching, her breathing labored. Yoshiko was her roommate and often made her way here, she was still her apprentice after all.

Finally after a painstaking trip up the flights of stairs she was at the top right in front of the door panting like a dog, her hands on her knees. From inside she could hear yelling and then a deafening boom, which made the door of the room fly right out of it's hinges, almost grazing Riko's head before it's descent down to the bottom of the staircase, most likely breaking a few steps as it landed. Riko let out a relieved sigh; that was too close.

She removed her hands from her knees and hesitantly made her way in the dusty room coughing, swatting the dust with her hand, the room filled with the sound of Yoshiko yelling angrily and Nozomi teasing, but of course not without a knock on the wall of the periphery of the enormous hole the explosion caused. "Hello can I come in?" she peeked taking each step carefully. Once the dust dissipated she could see the horrible condition of the room. The walls that were facing the other side from the music room had been literally blasted away and in the places where the wall stood there were smoke stains and cracks.

"Yes you may Riko chan." Nozomi said, as she stired her cauldron, mixing the ingredients with care and love. Riko stood in front if the cauldron, playing with her fingers. Stuck to the roof was Yoshiko who gave Riko a 'don't even ask' look at her. What ever the two experimenting with might have made Yoshiko stuck to the roof. "What bring you to my lair, or what's left of it?" Nozomi asked, turning to her shelves full of ingredients behind her. "Can I ask you something?" "Let me guess, you want to become stronger, don't you?" Nozomi gave her a knowing look before fetching the ingredient she was searching. The question surprised Riko. 'Ruby and Yocchan weren't kidding when they meant she knew everything.' "How do you-" "Never underestimate the power of a fortune telling witch." Nozomi poured the ingredient, in to the mixture and stired it again. "Now then you've been practicing regularly, am I right?" Nozomi lifted her eyes up at Riko. "Yes."

"And I'm guessing in that battle with that bandit you couldn't stand a chance to him though you practice everyday." Riko nodded. "Well then I'm guessing weapons are not your thing then." Nozomi said nonchalantly. Riko was taken aback. How could all her work go to waste by that one line? "What do you mean by that?" Riko controlled herself from bursting. "You control flowers Riko chan. They are not as strong like the elemental ones or psychic ones. You could try combining your magic with something else other than weapons."

"Are you calling me weak?" Riko's voice raised. Nozomi had hit her weak spot. "No, you're not weak. My cards had suggested ways to use your powers more effectively." she took a vial from a stand located close by the cauldron. "Then why does it sound like your calling me weak?" Riko ignored the second statement. Nozomi only gave her smile only making Riko feel more enraged. She clenched her fists and bit the inside of her cheek as she stormed out of the place angry, with Yoshiko calling out for her. She didn't care though. She wasn't like this but ever since You was kidnapped she wasn't herself. Why did she underestimate her? She knew her powers weren't as powerful or eye catching like everyone else's neither was her personality. It was something she hated about herself. She wasn't as vibrant as Chika or cheerful as You, she was just... her- boring girl, a migrant from another kingdom here as a refugee, but that didn't mean she was a little weakling like a chick who entered the cruel world from it's safe egg.

She flung open the doors of the music room, glad it was empty and picked up the closet instrument- the viola. She began all her feeling into the music she was playing, all the frustration, sorrow, anger, pain, everything within her was fueled into the instrument as she furiously played the instrument. She could feel her mind clearing, with every stroke of the bow across the delicate strings of the instrument. She could feel a surge of power, rushing through her veins as she played the instrument. It had been ages since she felt like this. She closed her eyes relish the temporary feeling.

She played and played till she heard another scream, this time from the very room she was standing in. She opened her eyes to find out she was stuck in the eye of a flower tornado. The flowers were spinning rapidly as if they had angry souls carrying anything and everything in the room except of her and the viola as she continued to play. The source of the scream was the girl stuck in that very tornado, with orange hair. Alarmed, she stopped playing the viola. The petals stopped swirling around, stationary in the air for a blink of an eye before just falling on the floor elegantly. But for some it wasn't an elegant fall.

The instruments and Chika were thrown into the walls, due to inertia. The instruments clattered onto the floor, most breaking due to the brute force. Chika was slammed into the wall, a huge dent forming on the wall before falling on her face followed by a taiko falling right on her. Chika let out a strangled scream as it fell on her, causing Riko to cringe.

"Chika chan I'm so sorry I-" "Riko chan that was so COOL! I never knew you could do that!" Chika lifted her scarred face smiling astonished. Riko went up to help Chika get the taiko off of her muttering, "Neither did I..."

She helped the injured Chika up, who kept on rambling how cool it was. "Let's get you to the infirmary." Riko said, paying no heed to Chika. She was surprised of herself. Never had her flower petals been so deadly. All they did was obscure the enemy with a gentle shower of petals which in most cases is not helpful. That's why she almost need a weapon in her hand at all time when she fought. Her powers were to weak to stand alone.

A week passed by since the incident. Mari didn't even care about the damage and was happy to replace all of the damage instruments that is if Riko were to prove that her powers weren't a joke which she did(in the process Mari was sucked into the flower tornado but didn't get hurt severely. To Riko's relief she wasn't punished for doing so).

Riko had approached Nozomi once again, in order to ask her to reach her to master the new way of using her magic. Handling a bit of teasing and some questions she had to carefully answer she managed to get Nozomi to control her powers at least a bit. It was slightly difficult as if she were to change the tone of her music the intensity of the petals would change also she had to focus on playing as well as directing her petals to the target.

Riko was in the arena, practicing she needed to control her power at least a bit so she could survive if anyone attacked. "Riko chan!" she heard a voice call from the entrance of the arena. She stopped playing the viola, the "petal arm" as she called it, that was trying (failing) to attack a dummy, with a sword in it's hand had collapsed onto the floor along with the sword. "Ah Chika chan." she turned around smiling gladly. "Seems like you're all healed up." "Yeah thanks to Nozomi chan's healing potion. Those scars were deep." Chika said looking at her body now spotless showing as if the incident never really happened. "I'm sorry." "Hey its no big deal in fine now see." she smiled brightly, "You were so cool! The petals were going whoosh and-" she made gestures with her hands. "Chika chan please..." Riko buried her face behind her hands that held the viola and the bow. "Hehe, sorry." Chika rubbed the back of her head, "You know I came into the music room to ask you something," Chika's cheerful expression faded, turning into a melancholic one. She was almost crying but still had a smile. Riko mentally shook her head. That girl was trying so hard to stay strong when in reality she was breaking.

"would you go on a quest with me to save You chan from those bandits?  She's our friend, your soul mate, my best friend," Chika's voice began to break and a tear flowed down her cheek. "Huh, why am I crying? I shouldn't be crying?" unlike her words she began sobbing violently. Riko approached her, and gave the poor girl a hug. She was returning the same gesture she had given her when she had broken down as soon as they got back from the quest. Chika hid her feeling way too much, especially the ones she needed to express like this.

Chika cried into her robes, her shoulder getting wet due to tears and a bit of snot. As much as Riko felt disgusted by the snot she stood there stationary, lending a shoulder (literally) to Chika. Chika calmed down after some time, still heaving. "Thanks Riko chan." she lifted her head, resting it above Riko's shoulder, wiping all the liquids from her face, smiling gratefully, still hugging.

"You forget to practice or do what Nozomi asked you to do but you remember this crystal clear." Riko commented after some silence. "That's because I'm not that interested in those kind of stuff. And for Nozomi she has Yoshiko to help her." Chika grumbled, pouting as she did so. "If she heard you right now she'd give you a washi washi." "No anything but that!" Chika said exasperated causing Riko to laugh. "You're lucky you haven't been affected by it. It's horrifying." Chika shuddered remembering the occurrence. It was just a few mikans and she was hungry.

"We should submit a scroll to Mari sama so we can get her approval today." Riko suggested. Chika hummed in unison. They were going to get You back no matter what.

"Shiny..." Mari raised the stamp in the air. Chika's eyes shone in delight and Riko was itching to pack up and go save You from those pesky bandits. "Denial!" Mari slammed the stamp onto the ink pad, ink slightly oozing out.

A moment of silence lingered before, "EHHH!" the two yelled in unison. "B-but You chan-" Chika was cutoff by Mari. "I am not approving this mission." Chika clenched her fist. She was going to save her and nothing was going to stop them. "There is an important mission you need to take care of before this."

"Isn't You chan important as well?"Chika lashed out. "I never said she wasn't. You're knights do not forget that. You have to be ready for sacrificing anything for your kingdom." Chika growled, "There are other knights too. You could send them."

"Are you going against the kingdom?" Mari raised a brow in question. There was something in her tone that showed that she was serious. It was something unlike her usual casual joking self. Chika kept quiet but she was burning with anger. "Here's the scroll," Mari handed out a scroll into Chika's hands. "this is your new mission. Dismissed."

Chika and Riko exited the room fairly upset. As they exited they bowed to Dia who was entering the room to speak with Mari. Dia bowed back, letting them pass by before entering the room and firmly shutting the door. "Don't you think you were a bit harsh on them?" Dia asked. "Says the one whose cold and strict all the time." Mari giggled, the atmosphere light unlike just a few moments ago. "I came here as soon as I heard the news." Dia informed. "You're the only one who knows Dia." "I see. What do you plan to do Mari san? One wrong move we will be waging war. We do not have many troops as we are losing them in our fight with the pirates."

"I know the risks Dia but if we need to get her we must do this." Mari said, "I miss her Dia." Mari said almost crying. "I miss her too Mari san but don't you think it is harsh for them?" Mari turned around looking through the window. "Chikachi did say they lost her to a bandit. It will be a stepping stone for their next quest."

"I see. I'll take my leave." Dia bowed before leaving the room behind along with a sad Mari. Mari touched the glass with nostalgia, remembering the time she and Kanan had dancing in that very garden under the stars. She missed those wonderful times. "Kanan I'm coming for you."

[iputastickeronmycarrier]

『𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕐𝕠𝕦』:| chapter 2: 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴  |

Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

From busking on the streets to serenades in bars, Y/N has watched them all.  A journalist by trade, she spends her most recent nights writing in her journal in the glow of neon signs in hidden places as she scours the city for upcoming artists for her new editorial.  The hunt for local artists leads her to the dimmed lighting of a bar where she meets Jeon Jungkook, an alluring singer with a voice that drips with equals amounts of anguish and innocent wonder.   In the hushed corners of busy rooms and under cascading gradients of moonlight, Y/N comes back every Tuesday and Friday to see him perform where she discover there may be a more important story unfolding between them that's worth following.

-continuing series-

Follow me on Wattpad

xoxo, Gossip Girl

*Namjoon: I stg Y/N...you better NOT be late.  I will *not* wait for you again to watch the new My Hero Academia episode[7:12pm]*

*Namjoon: But, also liiikeeee, love you or ~*whuteva*~”[7:12pm]*

*Namjoon: Oh, can you bring home more of those spicy crackers? :)?[7:14pm]

       You roll your eyes as you duck in under the doorway of Stamper’s, already a forearm deep in your backpack as you claw-arm for your journal.  It’s busier tonight than it was on Tuesday.  There is raucous, drinks pouring, booming laughter and the neon sign is particularly prominent as it sporadically emits bright light in blinks.  

         A group of people your age are leaned against the wall and each other while playing billiards. The pool table is worn down with a tattered green top from use and the cue sticks are scuffed but when you're drunk enough you can’t tell the difference.  Thankfully there is still seating which you take advantage of.  With a quick nod to the bartender, you wiggle into a booth and scrawl out “Joon crackers” on the first empty page you have.  

       A gaggle of girls who are clearly on a bachelorette party bar crawl flit around the room with each other, taking pictures.

       “Okay, okay, okay, okay,” a girl starts as she gathers all of the members of what you assume is the bridal party in a semi-circle.  She struggles to fix her sash that reads “Maid of Dishonour”.  “First of all, Seo-Yeon,” she chokes up, “We just love you so much,” she continues while dabbing under her eyes with a wet napkin that 14 seconds ago had a lukewarm beer bottle sitting on it as the girls around burst in a sea of “aww”s and lean against her lovingly. “I can not believe that you are getting married tomorrow,” she struggles to talk as the one you assume to be the bride, Seo-Yeon (as she is wearing a massive sash that reads “Same Penis Forever”) is fanning her face with what appears to be printer paper size cardboard cutout of a man that has the most intense washboard abs you’ve ever seen in a g-string to keep her tears from smearing her makeup.

       “You guys,” Seo-Yeon starts with intermittent sniffling, “are my best friends and you know that just because I’m going to be, like, married, or whatever,” she pauses to flaunt her engagement ring by wiggling her fingers and the girls squeal in excitement, “nothing will change!  So...let’s get wasted!” she yells as her bridal party screeches in approval and all lift their drinks.  One of her bridesmaids, who wears a sash that reads “Shot Queen”, slams her empty glass on the bar table and digs into the cleavage of her dress, yanking out a small stack of hot pink index cards.  

       “Alright, bitches!” she yells while waving the cards in the air. “Let’s play Porn or Polish! You all know the deal--I read it and you guess if it’s the name of a nail polish OR,” she takes a deep breath and steadies herself, “the name of a porn film.”  They giggle in excitement.  “So...My Vampire is Buff? Porn or Polish?” she coyly asks while batting her false eyelashes  at each of the girls who are all wide eyed and looking around as if searching into the ether for the answer.

       “What do you think? Porn or Polish?” Jungkook questions leaning down into your ear as shudders tingle down your spine.  “And what does “Joon crackers” mean?” he asks in a  half-hearted snicker.  You whip your face in the direction of his voice only to be met with a set of doe eyes that are way too close and make the room spin slightly.  You frantically try to compose yourself by breaking eyesight.

       “Definitely a porno,” you say with a nervous laugh, looking back at him.  Jungkook’s eyes darken as his face turns into a smirk.

       “How do you know? You've been watching a lot of porn lately?” he jeers.  Your eyes roll back so severely you worry you might detach your retinas.  Before you can clapback, he bites his lip and continues, “Let me know when you start to see your brain.”  You swat at him as he shrugs his shoulders in laughter and recoils.  “Can I sit with you?” he sighs, satisfied with his own sense of humor.  

       “Yikes...Here’s the problem with that,” you playfully respond with a wry smile, “I’m actually here waiting for someone to conduct an interview with me,” you suck your teeth, “and you’re kind of in the way…so...” Jungkook’s hand flies to his chest with splayed fingers feigning astonishment.

       “You know it is so crazy you say that because I’m actually here,” he pauses quizzically as if truly confused, “to be interviewed. Wait… are you Y/N?” he asks in faux confusion.  Giving up the facade, he exhales through his nose in amusement and sits himself down across from you.  

       “Oh, we have jokes today I see,” you flatly respond but a smile plays on your features.

       “He looks happy today.  I can see it in his eyes,” you observe quietly, wishing you could write it down as the only thing on your blank page is still “Joon crackers”.

       “Are you performing today?” you inquire, taking in his visage.  He runs his hands through his freshly fluffy locks and surveys the bar as he begins to bite at his lip.  Your stomach starts to feel like it’s somersaulting when his eyes light up in animation as he meets gaze.

      “A nervous habit,” you mentally jot down.

       “Later, yeah,” he responds.  “But not yet.  Stamper will wait for the Porn and Polish Crew over there to depart to their next spot,” he mutters under his breath as his face contorts into a small smile.  “In the meantime, do you want to get a drink?”  There is a silent, fuzzing whirr in the expanse of you two like static noise.  He’s looking at you with a seemingly innocuous smile but you still catch the intense stare he’s burning into your eyes.  You stare back owlishly, flitting over the sharpness of his nose and jawline and the softness of his freckled bottom lip. Is he baiting you? What’s his endgame? What do you have to lose?

       “Sure!” you nonchalantly respond.  He perks up, surprised by your response and starts to scoot out his seat.

       “Requests?”

       “Surprise me.”  With a cocked eyebrow and an impish grin, he saunters away.  As soon as he disappears from your line of sight, you slump down into your seat, face starting to flush with nervousness of what’s to come.  You don’t drink often and when you do, you’re a very cheap bar date.  You only have a few minutes to compose yourself.  

       “I need a plan, I need a plan, I need a plan,” your brain skitters around, trying to find a single course of action while all of your anxiety is thrusting down on you and every movement makes your muscles rife with inertia.  You suck in a deep breath through your nose and exhale out your mouth and repeat the action several times like Joon taught you in your younger days.  

       You used to suffer from chronic anxiety attacks.  On a semi-frequent basis, Namjoon would find you rocking back and forth in your dark closet, head in your hands as you wailed in continuous waves of grief, hot tears running down your face.  

_______________________________________________________________________

“Am I going to die?  It feels like I’m dying,” you would cry between gasps for air.  

“Of course not, Y/N, but it’s okay if you feel that way.  I’m telling you it’s not true but where you are in your head is valid.  You know this happens and you’re always okay, right?” He would lovingly whisper as he scooped you into his lap.  You would sputter and bury your face into his shirt.  “Right?” He would reiterate, gently cupping your face and you would shakily nod your head.  “Now breathe, Y/N.  We’re going to do it together, okay?  Breathe in,” he would start and take a deep breath.  You struggled to inhale as your chest labored and shook.  “Exhale,” he continued while pushing his breath out his mouth.  Repetitiously, you slowly could match his breathing as he continued to rock you in his arms, smoothing down your hair.  “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s okay.”  As your breathing became more even, save a few quiet hiccups and sniffles, he would take your face into his hands, looking into your puffy eyes.  “You know I’ve got you, right?  I’ve always got you, yeah?”  You would nod and lean into his chest as he continued to cradle you. “Always, Always, Always, ” he’d whisper before pecking a kiss on the top of your head.

_______________________________________________________________________

       “I hope you like rum and coke,” Jungkook says cautiously, popping back into focus.  He hands you the filled highball as if he’s presenting a peace offering.  You concede. “By the way...My Vampire is Buff?  Definitely a porno.  I had the gift of overhearing the bridal party wrap up their escapade,” he chortles.  You both look at each other and giggle as the party surges out the doors and onto the streets.  Seo-Yeon’s makeshift fan--the sad cardboard cutout of the washboard abbed g-string wearing man-- is left on the floor.  “By the way…”he hums as he slides back into the booth across from you, “I told them to leave that cutout for you because you were really interested in taking it home,” he whispers that dissolves into silky laughter and his bunny-esque teeth are revealed in his grin.  Your mouth falls gape with a gasp and you reach out to swipe at him.  “Kidding!” he cackles with his hands up in innocence as if trying to plead not guilty.  

       “Whatever,” You hiss but it contains no ire as you smile.  A beat of silence fills the expanse between you as you lock eyes.  Pulling his lips through his teeth, he exhales in a small laugh.

       “What?” you demand.

       “What do you mean ‘what’?” he looks at you with wide, attentive eyes. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, now looking away with a sheepish grin and exposing his face profile for you to take in.  The angle of his jawline is so sharp he could cut diamonds with it and it tenses with his smile, making your stomach turn.  His sloping neck exposes the honey tinted skin hiding underneath his shirt, black of course.  The dark, growing baby hairs peer out from what used to be an undercut and they seem flat against his neck in the summer heat that even the bar cannot help anyone escape.  It isn’t until after his gaze zeroes back in on yours that you are thrusted back into existence.  

       “So…” he starts, drawing out the ‘o’, “Did you bring more questions?” His fingers are clasped on the edge of the table, fiddling them on the surface.

       “Oh my god, duh.  The entire reason I’m even here.  Do you even know how to do your job, Y/N?” You internally groan to yourself.

       “Yeah! Actually, I have a few,” you say, flipping to another page in your journal with a master list of questions you ask the artists you interview.  You precariously flip past the pages that contain to what an untrained eye appears to be professions of what clearly is a crush.  Finally, you thumb your way to the right page and open the journal wide.  

       You skim over the questions.  You didn’t always use the same questions for every person, so with one hand holding the drink he ordered (and she’s a strong drink) and one gripping the a pen, you multitasked between sipping and putting stars next to the questions you were going to ask.  As you study the sentences, combing over them to make sure they are the ones you are going to ask, you take a moment to surreptitiously peek at Jungkook, who is keenly watching you.  He has one elbow resting on the table with his face cupped into it while the middle finger of the other hand traces slow circles around the smooth mouth of his highball.  You swallow hard watching his languid movements and double down on looking at your questions.  

       You cling to the first question you starred. “What’s your music inspiration?”  He leans back, swirling his drink in his hand, enrapt in thought.  

       “Do you want the interview answer or the real answer…” he muses.

       “Can I have both?” you coyly suggest, doing what you think might look like batting your eyelashes as you feel the warmth from the drink starting to hit.

       “Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ out and looking at you with a cocked eyebrow.  You roll your eyes, flitting your hand over the table.

       “Okay, next question, then,” you say in a huff.  “Do you sing in the shower?” you ask with a chuckle as the end of your pen finds its way pinched between your front teeth. Jungkook’s breath audibly hitches for the slightest moment before he coughs and takes sips of his drink.

        “Who doesn’t?” he asks back, arms out.

       “Right? That’s exactly what I say!” You enthusiastically reply, hands flailing up to either side of your head..

       “Like...you’d have to be a freak, honestly,” he continues.  You guffaw at his joke as in the recesses of your mind you become starkly aware that you are teetering on the dangerous ledge of drunk.  

       “Okay, okay, okay.  Real questions,” you assert as you hitch one leg up on the booth and lean against the wall so you can stretch out your legs.  “What’s your creative process?”  

        As soon as the words leave your mouth, Jungkook’s face goes blank like he was sucked into a vortex.  His passive gaze alarms you as you try to self assess if you asked a bad question.  The question is the equivalent of lobbing a ball in baseball; it’s always a home run hit.  But Jungkook’s face falls, wrought with anguish like he took a heavy blow to the chest.  He sighs deeply, looking at you with heavy eyes and just as you are about to skip over the question, Stamper walks up.

       “Jk, you ready?” he asks, head nodding to the top of the bar where a small stage is set.  Jungkook snaps back to reality, blinks several times as he draws in a deep breath of air, and nods.  He wordlessly gets up, giving you a slight glance before walking to the stage.

      He takes a seat on the stool, smiling a smile out to the audience that leaves his eyes vacant, lifeless.

      “Good evening, everyone,” he says emptily, knowing the audience doesn’t care enough to see through the facade you are witnessing feet from you.  “I’m Jeon Jungkook, thank you for being here.  I’m actually just singing one song tonight, I hope that’s okay,” he says quietly while adjusting the microphone length to match his height.  

      The first pangs of the piano keys reverberate through the bar as all other noise vacuums out, leaving only the deep timbres of Jungkook’s voice:

      Full of loneliness       This garden bloomed       Full of thorns       I bind myself in this sand castle

      The notes hit you like a freight train, ripping you back into sobriety.  You can’t help but stare, resting your head on your arms on the table and watching him.  He isn’t looking at anyone and you can’t see him, like him, Jungkook.  His physical form is singing into the audience but it’s like he is absent.  

      Where did you go, Jungkook?” you listlessly whisper to yourself, rocked by the strife in front of you.  The juxtaposition of the person who is on the stage singing and the boy who just moments ago was bubbling with laughter across from you is gut wrenching.  You see a deep rooted wound rising out of Jungkook’s frame and out through his voice.  Eyes closed and holding his body together, he painfully echoes out:

Maybe back then A little Just this much If I had the courage to stand before you Would everything be different now I'm crying That’s disappeared That’s fallen Left alone in this sandcastle Looking at this broken mask

      He heaves his chest, eyes fully open as the words leave his lips:

And I still want you

      The note draws out over the hushed crowd.  Jungkook takes a breath and looks into the crowd.  He bows his head.  “Thank you, thank you so much.  I hope to see you all next week,” he says with a small smile that still leaves his eyes void of any signs of life.  He steps off the stage, walking right past you and out into the empty street.  You scramble after him, rustling things back into your backpack.  You give Stamper a look and he waves you on, knowing you will pay for the drinks the next time you see him.

      As you stumble onto the street, you whip your head around looking for Jungkook.  You catch his form, already a block away, headown and slouched over with his hands in his pockets.  

      “Jungkook, wait!” You breathlessly call after him.  He keeps walking.  “What happened?” you try to keep pace with his strides.  “Can you talk to me,” you ask in desperation, “please?”

      He stops in his tracks, as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.  When you reach him you stand in front of his form; he’s shaking and breathing ragged breaths with wild, red rimmed eyes that threaten to swallow you whole if you get too close..  

      “My creative process?” he chokes out. “My creative process is I can’t stop getting my heart broken,” he blurts out.  “I can’t stop myself from creating my own pain,” he stutters.  “I’m just a chasm; ravaged,” he yells, arms thrusting out into the air.  “And this is the only thing I’m good for. This is the only thing I can do so people actually see me,” he whimpers, swaying to the side of a building as he crumples to his knees, burying his face in his hand and starts heaving deep sobs.  It’s just you two, on the empty astoundingly empty street.  His tears drown out the whirr of the surrounding neon signs easily.  

      “How is this the same Jungkook?”  you wordlessly ask yourself, with eyes wide starting to sting with small tears.  

      You recognize this behavior.  You recognize this image and silently pray you only do it as well as Namjoon.  Your backpack drops to the ground with a thud as you slowly walk to Jungkook’s side and crouch to his level.  His shoulders are violently shaking as the wails continue to echo.

      “Jungkook?  Can I touch you?  Do I have your permission?” you whisper, feeling pricks on your skin as you wait with trepidation, unsure of what he will say.  

      “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” he sputters and continues to rock himself.  Your heart contorts and you wipe the corners of your eyes with the back of your hands because you are looking at a reflection of yourself.  The way his posture hunches and hyperventilates while tears spill from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks is a feeling you know well.

       “We’re going to breathe.  I’m not going to touch you but we’re going to breathe together.  I know that where you are is such a painful place.  I can see you’re in the chasm you talked about and it’s dark.  I know what it feels like to be lost in that anguish.  It’s paralyzing,” you say in a hushed tone laden with empathy.  “But we’re still going to try to breathe.  It’s going to be okay because I’ve got you, okay?  We’re going to inhale,” you take in a big, deliberately slow breath. “And exhale,” you breathe out through your mouth.  He gurgles as he tries to fill his lungs with oxygen which exacerbates his tremors and tears through his chest.  “Try again, breathe, Jungkook,” you inhale and hear the smallest intake of breath.  “Out through your mouth,” you repeat. He shakily exhales and your heart picks up.   “Holy shit, is this working?” you question. “Yes, Jungkook, again,” you lead repetitively as his wails dissolve into quiet hiccups.  He finally lifts his head up, eyes bloodshot and face misted from tears.  Even in the throes of his pain he is unbelievably beautiful.  He rubs the remaining wetness from his eyes and lets out a sigh that allows the remainder of his anxiety to escape his body.  He props himself up on his knees and drags his hands through his hair before leaning back to rest against the brick building. “Sorry,” he sniffs, face laden with shame.  Your heartstrings tighten to the point of bursting.  You want to take him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest, and help carry his heart that feels so heavy.  You feel entrenched in his aura with no desire to escape the waves he emits that magnetize you to him. You want to say that he doesn’t need to suffer alone and that shame thrives and festers in the shadows when it can’t be seen by the world and you want to bear witness to all of his facets.  You want to take his soft face in your hands and fervently press your lips upon his.

But you don’t.

“It’s okay,” you sigh with a simple smile.  “Always, always, always.”

[materialgirlsfanfic]

Chapter 10: Affordable Prices To Pay...(Pt. 1)

KIERSTEN

“Boy you’ll be the death of me, you’re my James Dean you make me feel like I’m seventeen…” - BEYONCE X RATHER DIE YOUNG

TWO MONTHS LATER…

“Sweetie, like always when you get into one of your moods you dip off, and close everyone off  like we can’t resolve things like adults. Call me back.”

…..

“Bitch! I want to actually see you, IN person for brunch this weekend, mmmkay!? You got London on the verge of tears talking about you keep blowing her off, and even my dad has been asking for you! The project is not that deep, ain’t nobody about to be playing hide and seek with yo’ ass either. Call me hoe!

…..

“Hey Kiersten, its Jessie. Just checking in to see if we’re still good for Friday, at 7pm. We still have to discuss the little things like donors, designs, and the guest appearances for the show. But no worries! We’re almost done with everything. See you soon!”

….  

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s dad, I know you may be busy with school, and your work but I wanted to discuss some things with you. I don’t like going this long without out talking to you sweet pea. Let’s do dinner Sunday. Love you, call me soon.”

…….

“Honey, I’m doing an interview with Vogue for Models On Duty, and I’ll be teaming up with June Ambrose and Ashley Graham, I’d love you to be involved. June asked for you. Being as though you aren’t answering me at least. Call her. Back.

……

“Baby girl, I’ll be swingin’ your way shortly. Give me like an hour. I had to meet with this nigga to discuss somethin’ for the club, you know how that goes. But I’m ‘bout to stop at your favorite spot. Let me know what you want.”

……

“It’s your mother again, you know the one that brought you into this world. That was in labor for 16 hours over you Kiersten Stephanie Whitaker! You’re really behaving despicably! Two months! People are asking questions and growing concerned honey, Please!

…….

She was never fond of pet names. Terms of endearment made for coddling, or pacifying sometimes expressed in a  condescending manner that made her blood boil. Well pet names from her. She placed her phone down after shooting a few texts out, and deleting the majority of voice messages.

Amongst the seven, three voicemails belonged to the woman that birthed her that bordered hysteria, even at the calmest level of her tone. She could picture Fiona Whitaker swallowed in the high priced mansion where the walls were caving in with her stricken with loneliness. Where she was accompanied solely by a wine bottle, Marlboro cigarettes and a broken heart. Coping methods to perpetuate the sickness that will certainly take more than medical assistance to cure. She was sweetie in a drunken slur on most nights, honey when anger was on the surface of aggravation, and love when on the brink of being dismissed for what her mother deemed as a trivial manner.

Kiersten grimaced, setting down the chiffon material meant for sewing, that she couldn’t even attempt to make happen. She wished the internal battles didn’t always make her the common casualty from her mother’s assaults.  So much so, the name coddling was salt poured onto more opened wounds. I’m not a child. Slightly started, she felt the calloused hands caress her shoulders that trailed to her wrist, and finally her hands, spreading them out beneath his large ones.

But when he called her baby? Mmm. Spoken in that gruff bravado was enough to make her knees buckle. The warm  fuzzy feeling of contentment growing fonder these past months as she inhaled his distinctive scent of wood and spice.

“What you in here stressin’ about? I can feel that shit all the way from the other room.” Was her transparency that evident? Kiersten smiled smally as his lips reached her temple causing her to get further cocooned.

“I’m not stressing.” What a lie, Kiersten. Do better.

“Oh, yeah?” She could feel Messiah’s eyes boring through her as she attempted at pulling away. The makeshift desk on her vanity made up of her sewing machine, and kit only providing but so much room for her to find an escape out of her gratefully enormous walk in closet. Or as Messiah would put it: ‘Your couture bedroom’. His pronunciation of couture (CAH - tour) always causing to giggle like an idiot.

“Yeahhh.”

“Nah, stay your little ass in place.”

“Come on‘ Si, I’m working. No interruptions when we’re in our zones remember?”

“Na. I ain’t tryna hear all that baby girl. You been in here too quiet, for too long…” She felt the scruffiness of his beard nestle close to her face as they both looked into the vanity mirror, cheeks pressed together. “Damn you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that soooo much. Now, move. I wasn’t quiet but moreso focused.” She pointed down to the mop of materials to sew in front of her. “As you can see.”

“Come on mami. Come take a break.”

“Nooo, Messiah I have a deadline. You’ve been distracting me enough!” She was becoming accustomed to this… routine of there’s for lack of better words. Conforming to the ways of a hermit, Kiersten for the past month shielded away the outside world as she remained ducked and hidden in her condo. With only the exception of classes, work, and random trips to Mood fabric store, she limited herself of any social interaction. Her excuses being senior projects, creative assistant duties, and lastly the silent emergence of depression coasting that she couldn’t get a hold of. So like usual she figured solitude the best remedy. But not to London, and Brooklyne who have boarded stalking by the definition. And she couldn’t blame them. The only form of communication she was accepting was rushed over phone convos, scarce FaceTime calls, and texting at best. But a particular gentleman, a Brooklyn specimen, who wasn’t accepting the limits Kiersten was dishing out, wanted all in.

So from random pop ups, to persistent contact of the physical kind, he was the only one she was really allowing access.

But having a man of Messiah’s caliber coexist in her presence, and actually wanting to be there, was still mind boggling. Wanting to provide an ear, offer consolement to even something so trivial as a missing earring. Where, as if it was second nature or a necessity for the completion of his day, having to know the condition of her well being, and being in close proximity to receive it. Not to mention he always wanted to touch her. Always.

She inhaled a soft breath feeling herself being lifted and pulled to his steel chest, where a pinch to her ass cheek was then given, causing her to squeal.

“Eeeeee! Messiah, stop! Wha- for one I’m entirely too heavy for this, what are you-?”

“Shut that shit up, it look like I’m having a hard time holding you?”

“I didn’t say that, Messiah. I just…okay. I can spare an hour then I have to get right back to work. You’re so impossible, like seriously.” Wedged between the rock solid arms of him, was Kiersten escorted to the confines of her kitchen and sat down on the cool surface of the countertop, causing her to tug at her shorts. Exasperation was displayed as she watched him pull out various items from her cabinets and freezer. So much for that hour break.

“You know what you need, Keeks?” It wasn’t a guess that the question was posed rhetorically, but she now found herself contemplating heavily. What do I need? Her feet swung back and forth waiting, while allowing her eyes to latch onto the define muscles of his back as he maneuvered around the kitchen preparing a meal she had yet to identify.

“Besides these cute fuchsia Manolo pumps I seen, today?”

“…To get out this house…a peace of mind.” They were face to face now. Him coming towards her with a bowl filled with mixed vegetables, and a neutral expression that bordered him examining. Kiersten figeted reaching for the bowl to occupy her hands that she nervously toiled together looking back at him. But he dodged it out of her reach, and locked her in between his hands that framed her, setting the bowl by them. “How long you gon’ be hidin’, usin’ work as a scapegoat?”

“That’s not what I’m doing. So don’t…don’t try and psychoanalyze me, ‘kay?”

“That’s what you think I’m doin’? ‘Psychoanalyzin’ you like you some nutcase, or I’m a shrink?”

“Messi-”

“Nah, fuck that. So I’m not ‘spose to ask these questions? Like I’m not hip to what you doin’. You’re buying time, and shit to avoid what? Tell me why I’m here, if it’s not to be concerned but your damn well being Ki?”  

“Listen, okay? I just need you to be…” Here. For as long as I need you to be. With me not having to feel like the other shoe is bound to fall any day now.She felt the emergence of tears, and gritted her teeth, now pushing him back lowering her head.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ coward. We not doin’ that shit. I told you that. Talk to me. Finish what you was about to say, and look at me. You need me to what? Be here? Hold you? Feed you? What? Pacify you? Keep you locked in and throw away the key? What, Kiersten?”

“Just be present!” From that tiny place engulfed in her stomach where the grueling feeling of turmoil resided, was the shout’s source. Messiah remained unmoved and focused, waiting for her to continue. “…like now. Messiah, just continue to make me feel like I’m not going crazy, and by myself. Please.”

He nodded. She exhaled. He cooked. She watched, and the night continued as was.

BROOKLYNE

97…98…99-

“Sorry to disturb you baby girl, but you got a minute?”

Benjamin Pierre’s presence, just like his coffee, was served strong. Like the emergence of the rigid taste of the straight black caffeinated beverage on one’s tongue, as expected it was, it still took you aback. The distinction being that stern. Her father’s deep brown melanin seemingly glowed under any light that further highlighted his strikingly handsome features; the eyes that matched her own stared at her for moments of intensity, with urgency in the midst of. She placed a halt in her morning exercise of 100 plies, and barre work giving him her full attention.

“For my favorite old man, of course. What’s up, pops?”

“Fiona contacted me…” Aw, shit. “What’s this I hear about Kiersten’s blatant refusal to go home?”

“That’s what she told you?”

“Yes, so much more. But that’s just the half.” In Brooklyne’s bedroom at an early 9:43am was a stare off. Meddling in normalcy, but she was sure wasn’t to last much longer as that thick bushy brow of his rose. Following the cross of his arms, and the tilt of his head. But Brooklyne wasn’t London. She didn’t crack under pressure easily or allowed any of Benjamin Pierre’s typical courtroom intimidating tactics to shake her the least bit. After all, I am my father’s child.

“Hm, not sure daddy…that’s strange. Last I spoke to her things were fine. And she was definitely home. FaceTimed her and everything seeing she was right in her bedroom.” Yeah, to pack the last box I was to swing by and pick up to finish decorating.

“Is that right? So when was this?”

“A…couple days ago? Yeah, Tuesday.”

“Hm. Interesting. Look, Brooklyne…two things I need you to understand if you haven’t by now…” Through a sip of her chilled bottle of Fiji water, Brooklyne concealed a gulp of concern. It’s one thing for her father to intimidate for answers, it’s another when he already knew them, she supposed, and was behind the fire of checking. “I find out everything. No matter the time of delay it maybe. No matter the circumstance, I…do. It’s what I get paid for, as you know.”

“Dad-”

“So, if and when you hear from Kiersten again and she turns out to actually be “fine” like you say she is? Tell her to call her mother. Thanks, babygirl.”

Brooklyne flopped on the bed huffing heavily.

“This too much.”

———

You’re missing me, I’m missing you

Whenever we meet, we ain’t gonna get no sleep

When I get to be together with you

It’s fait accompli, we ain’t gonna get no sleep

Slick. The droplets that trailed down his steel abdominals, flexed and illuminated his cream complexion. Under the soft light in the studio his shadow trailed closely behind as it remained in sync with Janet Jackson’s “No Sleeep”. Brooklyn seeped in light breaths, as she remained tucked away and hidden by the barre. Taking peeks was growing tiresome like her thighs, she surpassed a little warm up to get started. At this point she was truly stalling. Why am I even doing this?

“So, we startin’ from the second verse…you ready?” Lord knows I’m not.

“Mind explaining to me what’s this for again? I’m not a hip-hop dancer, we know this.”

The heat of his body radiated onto her own as he stepped forward and stood behind her. There in the ceiling to floor mirror was the detection from Brooklyne’s view, trouble. Not a simple attempt of a duet or a pas de deux rather insisted by his mother, her instructor from hell.

“As you know The Joffrey Ballet intensive my mother is instructing has a hiplet component. A mix of hip-hop an-”

“…and Ballet, Tahj. I know, hip-hop on pointe shoes. Yes, she explained this. But why me? Did you insist this little arrangement?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Brooke. She did, actually.” She turned to him and searched his face. “I don’t know…for some strange reason she has this idea that you’re good enough. Let’s get this shit over with.”

She sneered at his sarcasm, tying her hair back. An hour in as she began feeling perspiration coat her skin, she was finally able to blur out the ridicule she felt. Taking this exactly for what it was which was simply a dance demonstration for a bunch of high school students that should last no more than four minutes.

“Shit!” A stub of her toe caused her attitude to look less than stellar, as she tripped into an awkward fourth position. From her peripheral she could see his bemusement.

“Don’t overextend your back like that. The fuck you tryin’ to do? Break it?”

“Since when did you become an expert of ballet? Focus on poplockin’ nigga.”

“You forgettin’ who my mother is? You been in her class long enough, to just be makin’ common fuck ups. What…” He walked closer to her side of the studio. “You nervous?”

“I twisted my ankle, right before the senior showcase…the senior showcase that had Juilliard talent scouts, and the director of Ailey in the audience. Guess who was accepted to both? Tahj…don’t insult me. Can we start from the top, please?” She went to her cue in stance of releve with her arms in Egyptian pose.

“…You were perfect.” She would’ve missed it, had it not been so quiet you could hear a mouse piss on cotton, as he muttered it so quickly.

“What?”

“You heard me nigga…that’s what got you accepted, right? Now, from the top.”

[fabriziofusco80]

Saying Goodbye to My MotherPart Two

I've been journaling daily about the journey of helping my mother through the rebirth we call death. Although these moments are intensely intimate and personal, I am sharing them publicly (with the permission of my mother, who before she stopped communicating clearly, told me If it helps others, use anything about my story, my illness, and my death in your blog, in your books. If I'm going to leave this planet, at least let my life and my death live on through the hearts of those who might learn from it.). Mom even said, Maybe I'm dying so you can learn how to help others fall sick and die with trust in God. The other day, she said, I have a synapse to God. You have a synapse to me. We can bring others along with us.

Many who are following this journey on Facebook have said, There are so many who are about to experience this journey with loved ones, who might benefit by your sharing. I know that losing a loved one is a private, deep experience of the most intimate heart, but it is also a universal human experience. So I share this process with you all, in case it helps you deal with your own grief, your own illness, your own journey through the death of a loved one, or your own fall into grace. It comforts me to trust that such deep, universal human experiences blow open the heart, if we can simply stay present with the full adventure.

10/25/17

My daughter Siena and her father Matt left my dying mother's bedside this morning so Siena could get back to school and life. Last night, as she was going to bed, Siena shared with me the Nana Mojo Grief Tips that Mom shared with her before she stopped being able to communicate. The first in a long list of How to Gikuyrieve advice was that she wanted Siena to give herself permission to feel good, that grief comes in waves of sadness, but that between the waves, we're allowed to be happy, to do fun things, to feel good. Siena took that to heart. She has been such a trooper, staying in the intensity of the grief, being so present with her Nana, crying, laughing, feeling instead of running away from the intense emotions. And then laughing, playing, gathering fall leaves with me last night on our walk to create an art project with the bounty of autumn color.

I have watched in awe as my daughter has spent hour after hour, sitting-undistracted-beside her Nana in patient silence, just watching her beloved grandmother's raspy breath. Few adults have the resilience and strength to do what my 11-year-old is doing. She will be quick to heal because she is not fighting what life is offering to her and she has no barrier to the love that is all around her, now and always.

I will miss having Siena here as we wait for my mother to transition. My little Buddha goddess has been a breath of fresh life as we usher another life out. In her last moments, she asked to be alone with her Nana. From behind the door, I could hear her whispering her last love stories to the grandmother she adores and weeping her grief into her Nana's cheek. I can't remember crying that hard in my whole life. When she felt complete, Matt and I held each other and opened our arms to her, the three of us still family, resting in each others embrace.

After Siena left, I opened my mother's closet to get a sweater, and I was struck, as if with a thousand bricks, with the horror of seeing a closet full of Christmas boxes and realizing that my mother would not be around to distribute the hundreds of Christmas gifts she insists on buying every year. (The purchases usually made six months to a year ahead of time!) I sorted through a box of things I'm sure she intended to put in my stocking, as she has done for 48 years. This will be the first year of my life that my mother doesn't stuff my stocking. It sounds so trivial to my mind as I write this. Such a small thing, the discovery of the stocking stuffers, and yet, if you knew my mother, you would understand that such things were not trivial to my mother. Her love language is gifts. It frustrated her that she raised a family of minimalists.

This is what grief does, I suppose. You walk around, just living your life as if everything is normal, drinking your coffee, tending to the dishes, answering emails, and then you stumble upon something that humbles you to your knees. And you breathe. And you surrender to the emotion as you breathe. And you beg for mercy from what feels like unbearable pain, and yet you know you can't skip it. You know the only way to get to the other side is to go all the way through it without bypassing one bit.

And then, just as a labor contraction passes and you feel relief when you're giving birth, the grief passes, and the sun comes out, and there is love all around, and you find gratitude in everything that's still here. Unspeakable joy is only one or two breaths away from the agony of loss.

A sign on my father's memorial in my mother's home says, Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. I say-go ahead. Do both. Cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. Hold the tension of the paradox and open your heart to how deep being human can go if you let it.

10/26/17

Last night, I curled up in blankets and looked at the stars over the lake at my mother's home. I remember my mother teaching me about all the constellations when I was a little girl-and how excited she was to show me the Southern Cross this past April when we were in Africa on safari together as her bucket list trip after her terminal cancer diagnosis. Mom and I were alone with our safari guide in the Land Rover, all curled up in the freezing cold under heavy wool blankets. Our guide turned off all the lights so we could gaze at the most magnificent African sky-an enormous show of shooting stars and constellations I don't recognize, set to the soundtrack of African bush animals.

This time, Mom is sleeping in the bed where she will die in her home and I was on the deck, feeling a jumble of emotions-gratitude, grief, joy, relief, tenderness, impatience, love, sadness. It brings to mind Rumi's poem The Guest House.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

10/27/17

As a doctor, I have attended many deaths, and as a woman, I have been with about a dozen people who were dying outside of my work. Sometimes, as when my father passed, it is a peaceful, transcendent place. The death process itself is a holy meditation for those who witness it. This is not so much the experience I'm having with my precious mother. The between worlds place my mother is inhabiting isn't so rose-colored these days. When the inevitable time comes to lose a parent, we pray it will be quick and easy, a time of angels and tunnels of light, of professions of undying love, a time of transcendence. But it isn't always that smooth.

There is deep love at my mother's bedside. There is humor, as when my mother, eyes still closed, did a glorious fist bump after my aunt told her that my adorably messy sister, who lives with my mother, finally cleaned her bedroom. There is a lot of music. We spend most of the day singing to my mother, and she still sings along with us when she can. I think I sang the entire John Denver repertoire to her yesterday. Annie's Song made her smile the most.

But I don't want to sugar coat what is happening here at my mother's bedside either. There are agonizing moments, moments I can't un-see, moments that haunt me when I close my eyes to go to sleep, wondering if she will still be with us when I awaken. Last night, my beautiful mother put her hands to her face, like a child playing hide and seek. Are you in pain? I asked. She shook her head. Then clear as a bell, she said, I'm really hating this.

Tears. Helplessness. I feel so impotent. I want to make it better, but there are only so many John Denver songs.

My mother Trish thinks there are bugs biting her. At one point, she said, We're infested with mice. I told her that could never happen because she's the Trishinator. (We always joked that no bug or rodent could possibly survive her presence because she's always bombing the house with all kinds of scary poisons intended to get rid of everything but humans!)

Mom is busy in her mind, making to do lists, asking me what the schedule is. When I asked her if she's excited to go to heaven, she nodded, but then she added, I'm anxious. Hospice added some medication to help calm her nerves and settle the hallucinations that often accompany end of life. I succumb to their guidance, but like my mother, I really hate this. I think we overmedicate everything painful. I'm fine with optimizing Mom's pain medication, but I hate tranquilizing my mother in her last moments. I want her to be fully present for what is about to happen, but then, this is not about me. This is my mother's journey, and of course, I would never want her to suffer needlessly.

I told my 79-year-old mentor Rachel, who is also a physician, that I'm having a really hard time staying present with all this, that I have a strong (though I'm aware it's also pathologic) impulse to make it better, to ease her suffering, to DO something. I've spent 10 years in therapy interrupting my Savior Complex, so this feels like the ultimate pattern interrupt. I cannot save the woman I would most want to save. In fact, any attempt to do so dishonors her and disrespects her autonomous journey. But jeez, this is an intense initiation.

The death watch is brutal. Unlike a birth, which has a due date and a past due date, there is no due date on death. The waiting-breath by precious breath-is part of the journey. Rachel said, Alas the due date here is shrouded in mystery but no one dies on the wrong due date no matter how it appears to us. I believe that everything that happens in this period has deep meaning and value and is a profound learning in response to the events and conditions and beliefs of this lifetime or, even more likely, a learning related to a previous lifetime. I often wonder if the events of someone's death are even a service to others and final teaching transmitted to others in unforgettable terms. My own mother said that people die only when they are complete. We may never understand that completion, but it is profound, no matter how it looks to us. It is very very hard to watch but it does not need to be fixed. Our way of death of all things is not meaningless any more than our way of birth. As painful as it seems, it is in all probability a gift/teaching to carry forward to a better lifetime. Hard to be a doc at such times, isn't it? And even harder to be a daughter. I have really come to believe that control may not be the ultimate offering here, but your love and your trust of the unknown probably is. As long as she is not in pain or alone, all is well dear Lissa.

Rachel's words comfort me. My opportunity here is to simply be present with my mother, to resist the impulse to distract myself from what is so hard to witness and feel fully, to find meaning and joy in the moments of deep connection, to bask in the plane of love that washes over me every few moments and fills me with light and gratitude. Rachel says my love and my trust in the unknown may be the ultimate gift I can give my mother. This I can give. I trust the Great Mystery. I do. I never doubt it, not even on my darkest nights. Divine Beloved, this journey is yours. May whatever is aligned with Your will come to pass.

Love,

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[thedoctorisadhd]

what's once on this island about?

i hope ur happy anon, bc this took me literally like six hours im not exaggerating even a little

short answer: so u take the original plot of the littlest mermaid and u plunk it down rIGHT in the middle of 1920s haiti, right

long answer (like, REALLY long answer. like REALLY long. im sorry i dont know how to summarize when there are so many good things):

“there is an island where rivers run deep…”

“where the sea, sparkling in the sun, earns it the name, ‘jewel of the antilles.’”

“an island where the poorest of peasants labor —”

“— and the wealthiest of the grand hommes lay.”

“two different worlds on one island!”

“the grand hommes, owners of the land and masters of their own fates.”

“and the peasants, eternally at the mercy of the wind and sea, would pray constantly to the gods.”

those are the four storytellers, beginning the play. lydia started the first line, then abby, then dori, then natalie, and repeat.

(oh yeah, also this is the jr version. also, i dont know everything bc i was backstage the majority of the time)

so the gods that the beach people / peasants are dancing to, theres 4 of them. asaka (played by lavanya in our production) is the goddess of the earth, erzulie (played by luke who’s closeted, so i change it to a god, erzulio) beautiful goddess of love. agwe (played by ian) is the god of the sea, and papa ge (eli, of course, and it’s literally pronounced papa gay), my personal favorite, is the sly demon of death

and this is all described in the first number “we dance”

stay tuned yo it gets better.

(its so good. dont ever listen to any version besides the chatham one i can guarantee you that any non-eli papa ge, any non-luke erzulie / erzulio, any non-lavanya asaka, any non-ian agwe, any non-lydia / dori / abby / natalie storyteller will not be as good)

so basically theres this storm, and in this storm is a little girl and the gods are like “no papa ge we’re not killing her you fuck” and they irresponsibly plunk her down in a tree

and so tonton julien (ben) and mama euralie (izzy) come along & are like “holy shit a kid” (and this girl is crying her eyes out of course bc as mr adam creatively put it to the girl who played young ti moune, “you were just dropped in a tree by some randos you’ve never seen before in your entire life”) but like theyre poor and dont have a lotta food and shit so they try to leave but the gods, showing some small modicum of responsibility, like, use the force to pull them back. so these peasants adopt ti moune and name her ti moune and theres a whole big number about her growing up called “one small girl” which i quite like actually

then ti moune is grown up (sammie) and she sings about like “whats my destiny yo” all naive in “waiting for life” and sees a car which is a big ol lead-in to the next number. which brings us to

so in the beginning of “rain” theres this HILARIOUS section of dialogue with the gods picking mangos and here it is bc i cant not include it man

asaka: 🎵 pick a mango! 🎵

agwe: 🎵 a juicy mango! 🎵

erizulie: 🎵 a lovely mango! 🎵

papa ge, being Himself: 🎶 a poison mango! 😈 🎶

[all of the other gods look at papa ge]

anyway, after that theyre all proposing things to do to get ti moune less naive, with such wonderful suggestions from these dumbasses as “splash her with a wave” and “scare her half to death”. and then erzulie is like “yeah u do that imma give her what she wants bye” and the other gods are like “????????????” and shes just like “You Heard Me” and just goes like “Love Can Conquer Anything!!!!!!! :)))))))) ❤️💞💕💚💛💙💜💝💘💗💖❣️” and papa ge is like “that’s bullshit this whole thing is bullshit that’s a scam fuck the love here’s like two reasons why” and they argue (and asaka remarks that this is “more amusing than mangos”) and the gods are all “HMMMM🤔🤔” and then they all go “A BET!”

and the gods all start like pitching in to set up this bet, so like erzulie gives her strength and asaka’s gonna guide her but then papa ge interrupts like “IM GONNA MAKE HER CHOOSE” and then johnny boy i mean ian i mean agwe then calls dibs on choosing the circumstances of the bet

and u remember that car right? well ian agwe is like “that. thats the place where the 2 worlds meet” and he creates a big ol storm and in the song he says (one of my favorite lines, actually) “rain makes the road such a dangerous place” (he did amazing in that song but i feel kinda bad bc like. he was overshadowed by the other gods who are all incredible singers, and parts of it were too low for him. like, eli can sing as high as he did, but ian really cant sing that low)

also they used the fish flags from the seussical two years ago when sammie’s sister sidne played the cat in the hat. i always found it hilarious that dori of all people they couldve chosen played a fish

ANYWAY. so the car is goin down the road and crash oh no a car accident. totally not what agwe was (shot)gunning for

and so ti moune pulls this guy outta the car right, and — by the way, now we’re in this super intense number called “pray” — and this song is real fuckin good alright.

my opinion upon this is based almost solely on the fact that within the first like ten lines of this epically long song a peasant, talking about the guy that got pulled outta the car (daniel, that’s his name), says, literally: “papa ge wants him!” i will remind you that papa ge is pronounced “papa gay” and what makes it even more astronomically fuckin funny is that both hank, the guy that played daniel, and eli, who as u may know played papa ge, are mlm.

anyway no one wants to help daniel even tho he’s Actively Dying bc Fuck The Grand Hommes, Am I Right Guys We Cant Do Anything Were Peasants And There Is Sanctity That We Must Never Talk To Look At Or Think About A Single Grand Homme, Ever™ but ti mounes gonna help him bc Fuck You Guys and she keeps him alive while tonton julien goes to find the guys family after she’s Finally persuaded the guy to do this

and ti moune doesnt sleep for Three Fucken Days by the way. thats important in the next number

also daniel is supposed to be good looking so of course ti moune Falls In Love With Him despite never having seen him before in her entire life, and also hes unconcious the Whole time. i dont understand the heterosexuals

anyway, tonton juliens at the gate to daniels family hotel and he’s like “pls let me in i need to speak to monsieur beausome!” and the gatekeepers like “get the fuck away my guy” and hes like “no but its urgent!!” and the gatekeeper SLAPS BEN [LAST NAME REDACTED]*

so ben i mean tonton recovers and like seriously gets down on his knees and begs and the gatekeeper is still like “FUCK! NO!” and then ben fucking [last name redacted]* SCREAMS SAVAGELY “I HAVE FOUND HIS SON!” HOO BOY

and then at the end of pray you hear a long high note and then one specific girl takes it HIGHER ????????? idk who it is for sure but im willing to put my money on lavanya bc jesus christ can that girl sing

*people always say bens full name when referring to him for some reason, so it’s not ben bc which ben? it’s not ben b. it’s ben [last name redacted].

so pray goes ge STRAIGHT into forever yours. not the reprise, thats later.

so. forever yours. in a STUNNING turn of events (sarcasm. absolutely the least stunning thing after the whole “papa gay wants him” in pray), the VERY fucking FIRST LINE IN THIS WHOLE FUCKING STUPID HEARTFELT SONG is literally ti moune saying “i am a tree, holding away the storm”. are you fucking serious. are you kidding me. you waste the first line on that monstrosity,

anyway basically what happens in this is ti moune is singing about tending to daniel here it is

i am a tree holding away the stormhere in my arms i’ll keep u safe and warmeven the gods wont dare to cross this linewhere my life is forever yoursand you are mine

and on that last word, “mine”, papa ge joins in and it is fuckin CHILLING, not LEAST bc eli has the voice of a fuckin angel (and sammie too, but i think eli’s is just slightly better)

so eli stalks in and the first thing papa ge does, in a True demonstration of the gay / ge agenda, is Drag The Het.

(then he goes on to say “this boy is mine”)

so eli’s also got a knife (a fake one) and this is another Important Thing so yeah

anyway sammie ti moune should “TAKE MINE FOR HIS.” (her life she meant) and papa ge is SHOOK. he just … stops. “wot”

so yeah. ti moune, in one of The most IMPRESSIVE displays of heterosexual tomfoolery and ridiculousness i have Yet Seen (scene), trades her life for this Complete Fuckin Stranger she pulled out of the car wreck whomst has not as of yet spoken a Single word to her bc HE’S BEEN UNCONSCIOUS THE WHOLE TIME!?

and heres another good line, the first gay daddy nico diangelo himself eli papa gay papa ge has had since “wot”: i am the road / leading to no return

(and this is also where eli goes REALLY high. like not for basically everyone else, but for him)

then daniels two dads apparently, grant and hugh, pick him up and take him back to the hotel and ti moune is like “NOOOOOOO” and makes mama and tonton let her leave to go find daniel, and frankly i am not very interested in this specific part of the song so fuck that i skipped it lmao lets get to lavanyas fuckin SOLO

alright. “mama will provide”. exactly what it says on the tin, taking it into account that asaka would be mother earth i guess

really all this one is is lavanya’s fuckin angelic voice and What Exists In Nature, and i cant very well put lavanya’s voice down on the page for yinz to hear can i? the only notable thing i can really think of besides this next piece a dialogue  will share w u is in the beginning theres a bunch of ensemble doing weird repeating acapella and some hopping in like frogs. “COO COO coo coo cOO COO COOO” “SHAH shaSHA-ah” “buuuuu BUM! BUM! bum” its sounds slightly weirder than it is

anyway here’s the best dialogue:

everyone: MOSQUITOS??

asaka: HA!

ACT TWO HERE WE FUCKIN GO ALRIGHT

ok, so ti moune finds daniel who doesnt know who she is bc, you know, he was unconscious the entire time. she gets him to know she was the one who nursed him tho. and they go to the front of the stage and ti moune sits and daniel puts his head on her lap. again, poor hank

now, “human heart”. jesus. i have literally cried over this song.

so erzulie goes out on stage to where hank is slowly suffering, probably, and sings this GODS DAMN BEAUTIFUL SONG about like, love n shit i guess. the storytellers and the other three gods act as a sort of choir. that’s pretty much all there is to say about human heart tho. moving on

ok so for “pray (reprise)” the gossipers (which are apparently supposed to be the storytellers, but fuck that thats lame, give my Cool Hoes lianna and taylor parts tbh) go out on stage and sing about how daniel is spending all his time w a peasant and shes a witch and yadda yadda yadda. and then theres some lame romance shit that i dont have fuckin time for

anyway, the song culminates with daniel’s father comin out on stage (lmao). which father, u ask? he had two of em? well that was grant and hugh, this one’s iain. conclusion: daniel has three polyamorous gay dads. this is the gayest production of a play ive ever seen. i mean papa ge? “papa ge wants him”? the fact that tonton means uncle so mama euralie and tonton julien arent married? “this boy is mine” coming from daddy gay himself? the fact that daniels last name means beautiful man? the “beautiful god of love” (as luke said, refusing to misgender himself in his introduction U GO LUKE)? the fact that out of the main cast (the 4 gods, the 4 storytellers, daniel, ti moune, andrea, mama euralie, and tonton julien) there are literally eight (8) actors who Arent straight (id bet that two others arent str8 and or / cis as well but im not sure)? just change daniel to danielle and itll be perfect

ayway daniel’s 3rd dad comes out on stage and tells him to stop this nonsense, young man ANYWAY NEXT SONG

in “some girls” the rich guys at the hotel all are doing a really lame colorless boring dance. then this girl andrea (ava) comes out and sings about the rumors about ti moune, that she’s stupid or wild, and daniel tells her to stop, then ti moune arrives and andrea really condescendingly asks her to dance for everyone and daniel encourages ti moune

so ti moune does a slow lame dance and then it gets loud and wild and fun! then when she’s done andrea goes to daniel and is like “she’s in love with you you oblivious fuck if you care at all you’ll tell her —” (unclear about what he’s caring about) and andrea is interrupted by ti moune who’s like “HI I HEARD MY NAME WHATCHA WANT ANDREA” and daniel goes and breaks her fuckin heart right

how he does this is he’s like “oops sorry i thought u would realize that we could never marry bc andrea and i are already engaged (since we were babies)”. daniel demonstrates an amazing amount of calmness about being forced to marry this girl he’s known all his life, and an incredible amount of insensitiveness bc TI MOUNE WAS NEVER FUCKIN TOLD THAT HE WAS ENGAGED. honestly i loathe literally every single character in this play except for the gods and the storytellers lmao

OK NOW FOR MY FAVORITE FUCKIN ONE WOW :~)

the reprise of forever mine.

so. ti moune is alone on stage and she goes like “gods please are u listening help me” and then. u hear. eli’s fucking amazing evil laugh and the gay himself appears

and he’s like u gotta keep ur promise ti moune im here to collect on that Soul

did i mention elis voice is beautiful? no i dont care, im sayin it again, eli [last name redacted] has the voice of an angel

anyway he’s like “u gave him ur soul, now u have to PAY” (the line he used here is “i am the price you’ll pay” and that sounds cool as shit)

and so “father homosexual,” as he was dubbed by luke, takes out his knife and sings “your life is forever mine” and holds the knife to ti mounes neck and ti moune yells “PLEASE DONT” and and and

he stops.

“trade your life for his.”

so papa ge gives her the knife and tells her to go stab daniel and he sings “i am the road that leads to no return” as he walks to the left side of the stage, and erzulie appears at the right side and sings human heart as papa ge continues with his verse from the first forever mine as ti moune struggles towards and away from daniel, straining, being pulled by opposite forces, love and death, and the two unite in singing “forever mine!” and ti moune casts the knife to the floor and screams “NO!”

and the music stops

and daniel sees the knife and picks it up

and says “why?!”

(fuckin bitch shoulda stabbed him when she had the chance)

and ti moune gets cast out and like, withers away at the gate neither eating nor sleeping, and then daniel comes to the gate with andrea at his wedding and sees ti moune and gives her a coin when she runs after him, and she collapses and the gods, sOMEHOW GAINING SOME MINISCULE VIEW OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR FUCKIN ACTIONS, all start CRYING. (erzulie won the bet) and erzulie hugs ti moune and papa ges probably off somewhere feeling sorry for himself bc you cant fuckin see him in the footage (nah, he’s off at the side of the stage with the other two gods neither of whomst you can see either), and mama euralie comes to sing this sad and pretty number “part of us” and then tonton and baby ti moune arrive as well for some fuckin reason,

and mama euralie says,

“and then the gods blessed her and turned her into —”

and then the gods hit their staffs on the floor (ian a bit gentlier bc his was falling apart bc he wouldnt stop fucking licking the fucking ribbons, ian) “a tree!”

and the tree comes up, forwards this time thankfully (phew) and and the tree fuckin cracks the walls of the hotel, get rekt scrubs, and the tree fuckin stalks daniel i guess, and daniels son sits by the tree and looks up and theres a peasant girl in its branches, and ti moune touches everyones hearts and also their livers, and everyone starts singing “why we tell the story”

also, fun story real quick, ive never actually seen eli dab i dont think (that’s something i need to accomplish real soon), and the dance he went off to the side and did with like, lydia, and agwe and ben [last name redacted] and daniels son and hugh — i guess all the boys in musical theater and also lydia, and the dance they have to do looks pretty damn like dabbing, and like, eli’s holding his staff so he cant do a true dab, really, but he can do a one armed one — but no. his dancing looks more like fuckin waving. ben [last name redacted] is dabbing, daniels son is dabbing, im like 80 percent sure ian’s dabbing directly behind eli, gloria’s dabbing in the back, but no, nOT ELI. im pretty sure he’s deliberately avoiding it smh

anyway

whOOP exciting parts over. now it’s time for Sad Half Circle Around Tree Girl i guess

“the stories that we weave,” and the storytellers and daniel’s son and the peasant girl in tree moune’s branches all come to the front and —

“there is an island where rivers run deep…”

[fluorescentmythicalbeastie-blog]

Fantastic Eggs and Where to Find Them - Chapter 6: Gathering Clues

Aaaaand we’re back with some more of FEAWTFT! In the following chapter, there will be mention of a Mrs. Esposito. I couldn’t figure out if her name was Mrs. Estosito or Esposito (or something else), so PLEASE correct me if I’m wrong. Enjoy! 

Chapter 6 - Gathering Clues

Newt never really believed he’d have to be stuffed into a closet with Jacob, but once he was, he realized it was no easy task. Coats fell from hangers and shoes were crushed underfoot as Jacob and Newt stood belly-to-belly. Mrs. Esposito knocked rapidly on the apartment door. Queenie rushed to answer it.

“Hello, Mrs. Esposito!” said Queenie pleasantly.  “I heard a loud noise.” said a somewhat grouchy voice. “Oh yes, we have a nasty Boggart in the drawer of that table. It knocked over all our pictures!” said Queenie with a skillful hint of drama to her tone. Newt peered through the small crack of the closet door, daring for a peek. He could see Queenie bending down, picking up the pictures one by one. Mrs. Esposito, her back to Newt, was hovering over her. She was a short woman, slightly stout and obviously suspicious. Her wrinkled hands clung to her hips while she examined the messy floor. “I’ll have someone remove it, then.” said Mrs. Esposito. At that point, Newt was sure he’d be panicking, but, despite her unique personality, Queenie was as sly as a fox. She lazily assured Mrs. Esposito by saying “Tina can handle it!” and herding her landlady out the door. Newt straightened back up, inadvertently locking eyes with Jacob. “Who put a pool stick up her craw?” said Jacob, a goofy smile spreading across his lips as he jabbed his thumb in the direction of Mrs. Esposito. Newt didn’t understand what he meant, but he joined in the laugh.

 The night passed in jovial conversation between Queenie and Jacob. It was stifling and very awkward for the third wheel (namely, Newt). Occasionally, Newt would interject a word or two before sinking farther back into his dining chair. The food was piping hot and deliciously fresh; he enjoyed every minute of it. However, after nearly two hours stationary, he excused himself from his company with the intent on checking on the dragon egg. Jacob misunderstood Newt’s standing up and immediately followed with a cigarette pack in his hand. “Do you smoke?” he asked Newt, a hopeful glint in his eye. “Ah, no. I have to—” Newt tossed a pleading look at Queenie who giggled in amusement “—shower. I have to shower.” said Newt. Why would I be showering? Newt wasn’t very good at thinking up excuses on a dime. Jacob hadn’t asked how Queenie knew Newt and wouldn’t want to cast doubts across his mind, just in case he wasn’t yet aware that they were friends. The two, Jacob and Queenie were very much interested in each other. That was a fact. Thankfully, Jacob simply sighed and laughed in his charismatic manner. “Me neither. My Pop gave me these for my birthday and I don’t know what to do with them.” said Jacob, motioning with his pack of cigarettes. Newt hurriedly excused himself, leaving a bewildered Jacob.

         Newt felt like he was coming off a day-long rush. Every piece of furniture in his workshop looked like a cozy place to sleep. His stomach was full of delicious sustenance and the egg still appeared the same—whether that was good or bad, Newt did not know. Soon after pushing a heavy wheelbarrow into the Erumpet pen and dumping a load of smelly slop (it was her favorite), Newt collapsed onto the sofa outside his workshop. The enchanted sky glittered above his head and a heavy fog drifted across the floor. The Graphorns were moving dutifully across the horizon, the young trailing after the adults. Newt felt a stirring of pride as he watched the beasts; they were the last breeding pair in the world. Amongst all the lands that Newt held in his suitcase, connected by a series of ramps and small curtains, he felt most at home in the very heart of them. He had a worktable set up in the center where he ground herbs and sketched in his notebook. It was the place where Newt could hear the sounds of every one of his creatures and still call it peaceful.

         Drowsiness swiped at Newt. He was sprawled out on the couch now, still staring dreamily at the sky. Why does this couch smell like flowers? It was a question Newt never had cross his mind. He quickly remembered that Tina had been the last person to sleep on the couch. Remembering Tina, Newt felt a pang of loneliness. After all, it had been nice to have someone nearby to talk to… to look at when Newt needed advice and ideas. He rolled onto his side and allowed himself to be overcome by exhaustion. His eyes slowly shut and his brain began a reel of dreams, each one becoming more confusing than the former.

         Swirling mist parted to reveal the same, fiery scene of terror that Newt had feared would infiltrate his sleep again. The bellowing of a dragon shook the ground, accompanied by flashes of flame against hex. Newt was glued to the ground again, still unable to move. He was behind the same broad-shouldered figure. This time, the details were subtly clearer. Newt could make out the shaggy head of the person in front of him, signifying clearly that it was a man. He could make out the figures of fellow wizards around him, clutching ropes and wands in their hands. It was a nightmare that wouldn’t relinquish its hold on Newt.

         The image shifted—but only slightly. Newt didn’t remember taking any steps, but suddenly he was close enough to touch the man in front of him. An iron head spear materialized in the man’s hand and his breathing became labored with anticipation.

CRASH!

Down came the body of the giant beast, wrapped in enchanted ropes that refused to loosen. Scales clashed against bare rock and screams filled the air as a torrent of fire was spat into the distance. Wizards dropped to the ground and attempted to extinguish themselves. Despite the intensity of the situation, the man ahead showed no sign of running. Instead, he raised a large fist into the air. Action ceased. A buzzing silence filled the air. The dragon (its breed indistinguishable through the bleary trance) became unsure. It made a terrible blunder and became still, allowing its head to come in clear shot of every evildoer. Try as he might, Newt could not scream the dragon back into action. The bulky man leaned back, his muscles rippling below his arm as he readied his spear. He launched it with startling accuracy. Newt watched it whizz through the air, its shining point aimed directly for the dragon’s weakest point—its eyes.

Thunk.

         At first, Newt believed it was his sweat-soaked body that brought him from his night terror. It wasn’t until he was sitting up that he realized a figure was standing before him.

“Tina.” he said weakly, getting to his socked feet. Tina’s tired form backed away to give him space, her eyes wide with concern. Newt’s two top button to his shirt were undone and his hair felt like one giant knot. According to the sofa cushions strewn across the ground, he had been physically terrified during his unconsciousness. “What time is it?” asked Newt. The sun was nearly whole in the sky and the area was unusually warm. Even as Newt thought this, the temperature began to lower to adjust to his preferences.

“It’s early morning… I-I’m sorry for waking you.” said Tina, gratuitously apologizing. Newt shrugged it off and quickly returned his buttons to their rightful place.  He imagined he looked quite haggard, but Tina might’ve looked worse. Instead of her usual tall self, she looked short and out of energy. She clutched a folder in her one hand and her hat in the other. Her hair was messy and shadows loomed under eyes. She was absolutely exhausted—and she did it all for the egg? She’s a criminal catcher! Of course she wants to see Igor locked away… The dream attacked Newt’s mind like a parasite. He openly flinched, but played it off as itch on the back of his neck.

         The two assembled in the Goldstein kitchen, accompanied by Queenie. Tina brewed a cup of coffee for herself and a cup of tea for Newt, all while filling Queenie in on the past events. Queenie would occasionally gasp or look to Newt with admiration, to which he would shy away, but she otherwise remained wordless. Finally, after the pair seated themselves around Newt, Tina began to relay her own discoveries. “I wasn’t on the investigative team for Igor Orgnuk—his background goes a lot deeper than I realized. Just look!” Tina opened the folder and drew out a thick group of pages stapled together. The papers were full of typed names under the list of “Frequent Contacts” Each one also had an updated bio next to them. Most of them were in prison. Newt scanned the names, immediately recognizing a few as notorious beast breeders. “He’s been abroad for years, but he’s originally from the Soviet Union.” Tina revealed yet another page, this time listing the known locations of Igor during his travels. Newt stood and began to pace the apartment while listening. His mind was focused heavily on Smidgens, but his train of thought was successfully broken by the reappearance of a picture frame. Its contents played in a never ending loop. Tina and Queenie stood shoulder to shoulder, young in the face, but still bright in the eyes. The significance of the picture belonged to that of a boy. He stood closely at Tina’s side—very closely.

“Newt?” Tina called from the kitchen. He redeployed himself to the case.

“There’s a pattern here.” Newt announced, approaching the table and running his finger across the locations on the map. “He’s visited all the places where dragons have habitats.” To this, Queenie sighed and shook her head in dismay. “Well, we already know he’s a well-known dragon hunter.” Yes, this was true, but there was still something more. Newt remained silent while Tina flipped through other papers, shooting off exclamations at the size. Newt looked up at the two, suddenly asking “What if he’s doing more than hunting the dragons? What if he’s hunting their eggs and illegally trading them on the side?” Tina and Queenie exchanged a brief look of suspicion before they both nodded at each other. Sister ESP, Newt thought with amusement. “It makes sense, but how would we prove it?” said Tina. Newt leaned back in his chair and idly fingered the leather handle of his suitcase. A creature or two rattled around inside, but he paid no attention to them. There was a piece of evidence lurking somewhere… he could almost grab it…

“Do you have a full list of all the dragon he’s hunted? If we were to prove they all had eggs...” Newt cut himself short. He barely knew that Smidgens had eggs and he considered himself a bit of an expert in that field. How were they supposed to know if dragons twenty years prior had eggs? Tina tried her best to accommodate him. “We do for the last five years, but any more than that is pretty spotty…” she said, tossing a terse glance at a clock on the wall. The clock chimed loudly, revealing to the apartment that is was now eight o’clock in the morning. Queenie was next to speak. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to do.” she propped her chin on her hands and looked to Newt and Tina expectantly. Newt allowed his pale green gaze to connect with Tina’s poignant brown eyes. She, too, looked confused. “We have to find out who he sold the eggs to.” said Queenie, tugging a document loose from Tina’s grasp. It was the contact list. They’d have to comb through the entire paper. Fueled by tea, coffee and hot breakfast biscuits, the trio began their search for the possible buyer of Smidgens’ eggs.

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