#and i thought rag shop would be a good fit

[averagemrfox]

Everyday I miss Rag Shop

[dresshistorynerd]

The Morrisian case against fast fashion

Today I discovered that H&M made a William Morris collection some years ago. The heath death of the universe can't come quickly enough. We can stop now. Satire is dead and we killed her.

It's not just the whole concept of H&M using William Morris' designs for their fast fashion which is insanity inducing, but also the critical response it garnered. Like sure, people did realize this is insane and there was a lot of think pieces about it at the time, but I read several of them and they all seem to still miss the point in spectacular way.

The basic premise of these think pieces go along the lines of: "Would William Morris spin in his grave with a speed of light because of the H&M collection of his designs? A difficult question indeed. William Morris was a complicated man. He wanted art to be affordable to everyone. Isn't H&M affordable? That kinda fits. Though probably he would have some concerns about H&M's practices."

On the surface - yes - but like in reality - fuck no. There's no nuance in this particular issue. He talked about many times what he though of the H&Ms of his time, the retailers selling poor quality industrially produced "fashionable" bullshit. We know exactly what he would have thought of H&M. Here's couple of quotes from his 1884 lecture "Art and Socialism", which makes it very clear.

"It would be an instructive day's work for any one of us who is strong enough to walk through two or three of the principal streets of London on a week-day, and take accurate note of everything in the shop windows which is embarrassing or superfluous to the daily life of a serious man. Nay, the most of these things no one, serious or unserious, wants at all; only a foolish habit makes even the lightest-minded of us suppose that he wants them, and to many people even of those who buy them they are obvious encumbrances to real work, thought and pleasure. But I beg you to think of the enormous mass of men who are occupied with this miserable trumpery, from the engineers who have had to make the machines for making them, down to the hapless clerks who sit day-long year after year in the horrible dens wherein the wholesale exchange of them is transacted, and the shopmen, who not daring to call their souls their own, retail them amidst numberless insults which they must not resent, to the idle public which doesn't want them but buys them to be bored by them and sick to death of them."

He is describing the birth of consumerism, which was taking form during his lifetime in the late Victorian Era, which fast fashion is the extreme logical conclusion of, and he fucking hated it. He specifically railed against endless consumerist products, which H&M is the perfect representation of. It was definitely not the art and beauty he believed everyone required and deserved. He makes the distinction often.

"Now if we are to have popular Art, or indeed Art of any kind, we must at once and for all be done with this luxury; it is the supplanter, the changeling of Art; so much so that by those who know of nothing better it has even been taken for Art, the divine solace of human labour, the romance of each day's hard practice of the difficult art of living."

"And here furthermore is at least a little sign whereby to distinguish between a rag of fashion and a work of Art: whereas the toys of fashion when the first gloss is worn off them do become obviously worthless even to the frivolous—a work of Art, be it ever so humble, is long lived; we never tire of it; as long as a scrap hangs together it is valuable and instructive to each new generation. All works of Art in short have the property of becoming venerable amidst decay: and reason good, for from the first there was a soul in them, the thought of man, which will be visible in them so long as the body exists in which they were implanted."

When he thought of popular Art he thought of the craftsmanship of the common people. The art people have made from useful everyday objects with skillful handicrafts. This is what he means by "divine solace of human labour". It's not reverence of Puritanical work ethic, on the contrary, it's the reverence of creation, of the earnest joy people feel when they get to express themselves through their creative pursuits. He certainly didn't believe in work for work's sake, work needed to be worthwhile and enjoyable. He summarized his own position on what labour should be thusly:

"It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should he done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious."

He urged his middle class audience to reject consumerism (the lecture was for a very much middle class atheist society):

"For I say again that in buying these things: 'Tis the lives of men you buy! Will you from mere folly and thoughtlessness make yourselves partakers of the guilt of those who compel their fellow men to labour uselessly?"

I think it's glaringly obvious H&M and fast fashion in general is what he would consider luxury. Rags of fashion that are just churned out and discarded without thought and produced by compelling people to labour uselessly. It's not popular art that's made by workers and craftsmen, who are able to express themselves through it. There's no agency for the abused workers in H&M's sweatshops, they are not expressing their joy of creation, they are simply labouring uselessly.

Morris didn't shame workers for buying affortable things even if they weren't Art with big A, because that's the problem he despised the whole economic system for, for taking away the popular Art from people, making it inaccessible, and selling back mass produced products with very little practical or aesthetic value. So I don't think he would have problem with people who can only afford fast fashion today. They are the victims of capitalism too, because Art has been taken away from them. But the idea that some of these think pieces had that perhaps the H&M's Morris collection can be good actually if you squint, that H&M has the capacity to bring the art and beauty Morris advocated for for the people, is level of stupidity that's hard to express in words.

Morris didn't believe anything made with exploited labour could be truly beautiful, truly art. In his 1879 lecture "The Art of the People" he put it like this:

"That thing which I understand by real art is the expression by man of his pleasure in labour."

The way I understand this, is that art is communication. Through it we communicate feelings, ideas and thoughts, that is it's purpose. So for that communication to work, for it to be imbued with message, the person making it needs to feel passion and love for it's creation. How can there be love and passion if the hands making the garment belong to a tired exploited worker who has no agency what so ever in their work and can only think about survival to the next day?

Beyond the fundamental exploitativeness of H&M and fast fashion, this collection would still get zero points on aesthetic values from Morris even with his own designs. Because the work itself was such an important part of art for Morris, good design was nothing without good craftsmanship. Good design in his mind was always relative and dependent on it's purpose.

"For everything made by man’s hands has a form, which must be either beautiful or ugly; beautiful if it is in accord with Nature, and helps her; ugly if it is discordant with Nature, and thwarts her; it cannot be indifferent." (The Lesser Arts, 1877)

Here when he says nature, he means the nature of the thing that is made - basically it's purpose and function - and the nature of the materials it's made from. Basically, the design must always be made to bring out the function of the art and the qualities of the material it's made from, not fight against them. This is because he believed handicrafts were uniquely suitable for expressing the love of creation, therefore superior labour, and to really bring out the qualities of the craftsmanship and enjoy the creative process, the design should be suitable for that craft. The other side, which was the joy of using and experiencing art, required the craft to be selected for the suitable purpose. Using poorly functioning furniture for example is not very enjoyable, nor is using clothing that's made from materials that are not suitable for the climactic conditions it's supposed to be used in.

H&M of course utterly fails in this. They use Morris' designs in fully unsuitable ways. They print patterns made for example for wall papers on poor quality fabrics with synthetics dyes they weren't made for. This line from one blog post I came across really got me: "Therefore, without cheapening the artistic value of Morris’ designs, H&M’s collection offers an unparalleled potential for accessibility to them." No. Fuck no. They do in fact cheapen Morris' designs in every single way possible. Literally this is atrocious.

Despite the popular depiction, Morris wasn't in fact against industrial machinery or industrial art even, or at least he wasn't once his views on art and politics matured. He did think technology was useful, but he thought the people should use industrial methods for the benefit of all, not be enslaved by the industrial machine.

"I have spoken of machinery being used freely for releasing people from the more mechanical and repulsive part of necessary labour; and I know that to some cultivated people, people of the artistic turn of mind, machinery is particularly distasteful, and they will be apt to say you will never get your surroundings pleasant so long as you are surrounded by machinery. I don't quite admit that; it is the allowing machines to be our masters and not our servants that so injures the beauty of life nowadays. In other words, it is the token of the terrible crime we have fallen into of using our control of the powers of Nature for the purpose of enslaving people, we care less meantime of how much happiness we rob their lives of." ("How we live and how we might live", 1887)

However, he thought that the designer should approach it the way they approached any craft, by designing for the strengths of the machine work.

"But if you have to design for machine-work, at least let your design show clearly what it is. Make it mechanical with a vengeance, at the same time as simple at possible. Don't try, for instance, to make a printed plate look like a hand-painted one: make it something which no one would try to do if he were painting by hand..." ("Art and the Beauty of the Earth", 1881)

He did use some machinery for fabric and wall paper printing, but he was very intentional about their use. Still his designs weren't made for the type of methods these modern H&M machinery uses and he did for example use natural dyes. Particularly insulting is that some of the H&M clothes are made from viscose, rayon made with viscose method. Viscose method is extremely toxic and is known to cause long term health consequences for the workers and the people in surrounding areas. This has been well proven knowledge for ages. William Morris' wall paper factory in the beginning used the typical method used at the time which involved arsenic, but once he learned this could pose risks for the workers, he changed the method. Many of the new synthetic dyes were toxic at the time, which is the major reason he so favoured natural dyes, known to not cause health issues for workers or pollute the environment.

The question many of these think pieces about the H&M Morris collection posed was, would Morris disapprove and should we care? The first part of that is very easy to answer. Yes. Of course Morris would disapprove. He is currently powering the whole of British Isles with purely the kinetic energy his grave-spinning produces. Should we care though? If you care about Morris' art, if you want to see more of that kind of art in this world, you should care. Morris' art is not about the superficial qualities. Copying his designs and aesthetics and styles, will only lead to hollow imitations, that are exactly what he described the rags of fashion to be; as the shininess of novelty wears off they will reveal themselves to be soulless, useless and utterly empty. This collection is just that. To see more of the kind of art that makes you feel like his art makes you feel, not just something that reminds you of that feeling, you should focus more on the way the art is made and less on the specific aesthetics. If his vision of labour and art was realised, all art produced of course wouldn't be loved by every person, but all of it would be loved by someone, even if that someone was just the maker. And that would be more worthwhile than every single rag of fast fashion.

I will stop William-Morris-posting now and return to my thesis.

The full texts I quoted here:

Art and Socialism The Art of the People The Lesser Arts How We Live and How We Might Live Art and the Beauty of the Earth

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

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@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR IV | G.W //F.W

WARNINGS // 8.6k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex.

A/N // Ladies n gents we are back n better than everrr!! This has legit been sat in the WIPs for a year and I have not had the energy or motivation to get back to it until now. ps.. thank you to @darthwheezely for helping me out on this one as my co-writer, idk what i'd do without you!! pps.. stay tuned for more works in the future!

It was always good to be home. As much as George adored being on the road, there was something so blissful about waking up in his own bed, with the woman of his dreams curled tightly into his chest. This was what made it worth it. 

“Good morning, muffin,” you muttered peacefully, hand reaching up to push the messy tufts of hair from his sleepy eyes. He threw his head back and groaned at your use of the corny nickname so early in the morning.

“That divorce and sweet sweet alimony cannot come soon enough,” he grinned, soon getting whacked in the face by the pillow next to you, his own hand reaching to pull you by the scruff of your neck into a sloppy kiss. 

Like most mornings, George was already out of bed, walking around aimlessly in his low-slung plaid pj bottoms as he searched sleepily for either his shop uniform or at the very least something that would easily pass without Fred throwing a fit.

“Are you sure you want to leave me?” You teased, pushing yourself out of bed, letting his t-shirt fall past your hips as your feet patted along the wood floors, taking you to him. You wrap your arms around his waist groggily, forehead resting against his back as you take in his warmth.

“I’m never sure about leaving you, angel, I doubt you’ll take much convincing if I suggest lunch?”

“I’ll make your favourite sandwich and swing by later, yeah?” You smiled, giggling as he spun you around, strong hands holding your arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

“They say you’re the lucky one, but lord, woman you make me the luckiest.” 

The sun was not Fred’s friend today. But honestly: no one was Fred’s friend today, not when the sun was over a hundred and two degrees in a shop with shitty A/C with his wife away playing hostess for god knows how many interviewees in that pretty black dress.

He probably wouldn’t even be this angry if she hadn’t been an insufferable prime American tease, waking up to her lips wrapped around the base of his cock and sending delicious vibrations throughout his body before pulling off right as he was about to release:

“You’ve got work today, ace, I need you to be a good boy.”

So there was Fred, as horny as a fourteen year old, deprived as a fourteen year old, and about as pouty as a toddler. Even George knew how pissy his brother had been, eyeing him rather sharply. 

“You know, Freddie, It would be nice to come into work one day with you having not woken up on the wrong side of bed.” George chuckled, pulling up the bottom of his already oil-stained shirt to wipe at his jaw. The older twin stalked around him and hit him in the chest with his rag.

“Actually, I was sleeping quite well on my lovely and rosy smelling side of the bed until I got fucking booted like a small boy and-” he was briefly aware of George laughing at him and made to punch his younger brother over the hood. “- it’s not funny, you know...it’s…” he swallowed, the familiar feeling of his strawberry tint rising to the surface, “...ithasn’tbeenasrecentasyou and before you ask me how I know that, remember you’re the other half of my DNA in mum’s womb,” he childishly spat. He slid into the driver’s seat of the Mustang they were working on and began drumming the dash, his knee bouncing against the side door - a tell tale sign of his frustration.

“I thought we established that you are in fact half of my DNA, just because you were born first doesn’t mean shit.” George rolled his eyes, throwing the rag on top of the car before joining his brother in the passenger seat.

“No, because I, in fact, am the prettier twin, which means I not only had sex first, but also get more privileges such as Denny’s coupons, discounted smoothies, and more phone calls with my mother than you.” Spotting you walk into the workshop area he honked the horn a couple times and giggled, whistling when you walked in.

“Ahoy my lovely sister-in-law!” He grinned and honked once more, a loud and obnoxious greeting - so uniquely Fred.

Rolling up to the side of the car, you laughed, seeing George rub at his temples, sighing to himself over the continuous blaring horn. You leaned in against the window, poking your head into the car with a smile, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek while Fred’s smile dropped, his face forming into a stare of jealousy, quickly forcing a smile again to hide his obvious frustrations. 

“Oi! Get a bloody room you two!” He huffed, honking loudly when George leaned in to kiss you again.

“Do you mind?” George gritted out.

“Yes, a bit, actually, you may have the back office for now to do somewhat lovey and sinful things but please try to be discreet, kids!” He winked salaciously and leaned forward against the wheel, his elbow cocked on the dash as he fought to not think about destroying his wife to be the second she got home. Usually racing helped, kept his mind (and libido) wandering if he felt a bit pent up - but at least for a few months or so, there wouldn’t be any release. The thought alone had him throw his head back and groan in displeasure.

“I brought lunch, wanna eat with me?” You grinned, batting your eyelashes, a move that practically had George falling out of the car, grabbing your hand as he followed you out to the back office. It was definitely hotter in the back, if you were being honest, yet that had nothing to do with the blazing sunshine but the way your fiance could have practically drank you in whole by the way he was staring. 

“Stop staring, George, your eyes will go square.” You laughed, setting your bag on the table, pulling out the sandwich you had made for him, pushing it into his chest as you pulled out your own lunch. 

“You know that doesn’t work with staring at humans right? Just TVs.” George retorted, walking backwards before plopping himself down on the sofa. “You didn’t happen to bring my-” You had already reached into your bag, pulling out his water bottle, something he not only had a habit of leaving at home but something he nearly always drank with lunch. Props to him for staying hydrated but after so long together you had managed to pick up on nearly all of the smaller things about him. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” He smiled, taking the bottle from your hand as you slipped onto the sofa next to him, legs swinging over his thighs as you unwrapped your sandwich. This was normal for you, reminding you of the days before racing and before America, a part of you growing fond of those memories. 

“You seem lost, Angel.” He muttered, hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a worried look painting his expression. Shaking your head at him, you pulled yourself up to be straddling his hips, your nose bumping against his softly before capturing his lips into a kiss. 

A part of both of you needed this, the locked lips while his hands held your hips in their place, effortlessly controlling the way they would rut against his growing bulge, both desperate for the friction. He was moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking up to meet yours as the innocence in the kiss quickly slipped away, his own desperation to have you ruling how his hands had practically ripped your shirt off of you, his lips messily pressed against the newly exposed skin of your chest. 

“Shit, baby, I just wanna get those tight little fucking shorts off of you.” He groaned, hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head as your hips continued grinding relentlessly. You were ultimately putty in his hands, moldable and pliant only for his skilled grip and teasing touch. 

“No time for that though.” He chuckled, his quick fingers effortlessly slipping the material to the side before the pad of his thumb found your clit, rubbing in teasing circular motion, a loud and lewd groan falling from his lips at the feel of just how wet you were already. Your hand flew to his mouth, finger pressed against his plump lips to keep him silent.

“Not so much noise, Georgie.” You giggled, a faint moan falling from your lips as his fingers began to tease your entrance. Your own warnings of silence had fallen short the second you found yourself wrapped around his fingers, his long digits pulling desperate moans from you by the second.

“Not so much noise, angel.” 

—

The elder twin had watched his brother follow you out, had seen the way his twin’s eyes had smoothed over the curve of your ass, how he’d admired your shorts and in utter and complete disdain Fred kicked the inside of the car. It was dumb, the way he was wishing he could have his girl thrown in front of a bathroom counter and force her to watch him fuck that pretty pretty cunt of his, and unknowingly slid his hand down to his jeans and started to palm.

His jaw was clenched at the thought of her slutty little stunt she pulled this morning when they both knew how wet she would get when she had her mouth around him, and gritted in a groan as he squeezed his clothed erection.

“God, fuck, love,” he panted, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans half way to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free instantly. He thought about how her cunt fit perfectly to his cock, how no matter how many times he’d slipped deliciously into her, she always seemed just as tight as the first time, meanwhile his hand loosely pumped back and forth on his shaft. This was pathetic, he knew it was pathetic, but still the idea of her underneath him while her breasts heaved and her smokey chocolate hair was strewn about the pillow had him grunting.

“God, I’m so surprised you’re not pregnant yet, with the amount of cum I stuff you with and the rounds we do in a day,” he growled, all eleven inches sunk deep into her.

“Oh, shit, baby, god, you feel so good,” he panted, his thumb tightly rolling small circles on his tip. 

“Want it so bad, baby, wanna be so full and round soon as we can,” she had moaned, arching so far into his hold that he had thrusted at the same time a nipple brushed his lips and into his mouth, biting the sensitive flesh and causing her to whine.

“Such a fucking whore,” he snarled, his hips bucking up to meet each stroke of his fist, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he imagined his palm to be nothing but her - no, his - soft and soaked pussy. 

His hips were jerking at the speed of sound, he didn’t really care if anyone else could hear, if anything it made him more turned on, let ‘em hear, he could give less of a shit and especially if she were here, he’d make damn sure everyone from Houston to L.A. knew exactly which racer she was getting boned by each and every night.

“Freddie, honey, please, I need you to so bad,”

“I’m right behind you, baby, goddamnit so fucking good,” and with a faint shout of her name he released, his dick twitching under his own rough touch, his eyes screwed shut at his own frustration, none of it was real, the memory of it and the smell of sweaty sex in not only hotel rooms but in cars across the country dimming his mind back to square one. He laughed harshly at his own predicament, assessing his own situation before whistling lowly.

“Fuck, I need a drive.”

—

“George, for the love of God, stop fuckin’ with the carburetor, we already checked it an hour ago,” Fred whined, leaning against the back of the car. The day had been relatively slow beyond that one car, the hour approaching about 4:30, Fred eagerly awaiting until those hands hit 6.

“We did? I could have sworn we didn’t but I wouldn’t know, would I?” George rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from under the hood, heading over to you to take the tool you aimlessly held from your hands, not before his hands pressed against your neck, pulling you into a quick kiss.

Fred went to retort, interrupted only by the grizzly rotary of the engine rev close by. He knew exactly what the sound was, the same kind of rev that ecologists blamed on the hole in the ozone, the smell lewd and hungry for attention. 

It wasn’t just any old car, it had to be for racing. And sure enough it was, two in fact, fully souped up in high gear and brand new paint blinding in the Arizona sun. Fred held a hand above his eyebrows to see who it was, and George leaned back around Fred trying to do the same thing. When the cars pulled up and swerved albeit messily into the lot the twins broke into grins.

“Is that-?”

“-yeah, it’s-”

And then the car doors opened, one man rather lanky and lean and the other shorter and stocky, the rather lean one putting both his hands on his hips and clucking: “Well, I’ll be damned, freshen up then lads,” and grinned mischievously.

“DEAN!”

“SEAMUS!” They both yelled and jumped at their friends, a chorus of rowdy hugs and how are yous being traded from each of the boys.

“Alright then, boys?” Seamus quipped.

“Well, Jesus, we sure hope so, haven’t seen you since, shit what March?” George ran a hand through his hair, looking at Fred to confirm that and he nodded in response.

“Sounds about right, we’ve had to keep to ourselves - don’t want a bust like what happened to Diggory, y’know,” Seamus smirked.

“That arsehole from - shit what was his sponsor, Georgie?”

“Wonderbread,”

“Yeah, I never liked him, hits on everything that moves he does, my girl included,” Fred made his way to their mini-fridge swinging out a couple of bottled cane-sugar Coke (the only kind he and his wife ever drank, unfortunately for their bank account), and distributing them to each of the boys, passing around the bottle opener.

Dean scoffed. “Fred, you think everyone flirts with your girl and Y/N.”

“I’m a protective man, Thomas, not my fault I see a douche bag and-”

“Anyway,” George cut him off, leaving a rather pouty Fred in his place, and leaning back to sit on the hood of the car. “What brings you two ‘round then?”

Seamus and Dean visibly held their bottles a little tighter, then looked at each other.

“Well, we um...we have this thing we do on Thursdays down behind Tucson-” Seamus started.

“-not the raceway...it’s a bit more shifty, if you get it.” Dean finished, taking a swig of Coke. George studied the two for a second and finally leaned back on the car hood.

“Boys, what is this?” He asked softly, Fred shifting uncomfortably on the minifridge.

Seamus opened his mouth again, his face a great shade of crimson when Dean leapt in again.

“We do it in secret because if Indy or Nascar found out we’d all be dead but...we never really stopped racing you know. We just...we do it in the backwoods area of town-”

“Where it’s basically just sand and flat land for miles,” Seamus added, nodding vehemently. 

“Count me in.” Fred spoke quickly, pushing himself up off the mini fridge and over to the two boys, a smirk hanging off his lips in anticipation of being able to put his foot to the floor again on a track, albeit a dirt-road track, it was a course nevertheless.

“Yeah, no, Fred you can’t, if the Wood Brothers find out you are never racing again.” George cut in, fingers pressed to his temple in fear of his brother’s own recklessness.

“Come on, baby brother, I think you need to loosen up a little, what do you think, y/n?” Fred’s smirk only grew as he raised his eyebrow, hoping to entice the younger twin into his lure.

“You know, Georgie, I think it would be good for you and Fred to race together, you know, just for fun...” You shrugged, staking over to George, arms wrapping around his waist, as you looked up at him with a pout.

“I suppose if those two big brains can still have jobs, we’ll be fine, right?” George sighed, feeling himself giving in, purely from a look from his girlfriend.

“That’s the spirit!” Dean smirked, a smile cracking up on Seamus’ lips as the four boys looked among each other, almost silently communicating a plan until they had erupted with laughter.

—

The clock had said 9:34, roughly 26 minutes before Fred would be ecstatically waiting for George outside his studio apartment. His neck was tilted upwards, covered in shaving cream with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. The sink was littered with expensive cologne and aftershave, the first purchase he ever made after his first check at the shop, his scalpel grifting smoothly up his jawline. 

Fred had learned very early on that preparation was absolutely everything, and after his little twelfth place charade - he felt his mates needed to remember that he was, for all intents and purposes, that bitch. 

“Fred, baby, you home?” He heard her call out, the clanging of keys falling into the empty fishbowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah, cupcake, I’m in here,” he called out stiffly, listening to her start to rant on about the interviews at hand - none of them were ever any fun, he’d been to enough to learn that all they cared about were raunchy questions geared at his wife and female reporters flirting with him in front of studio audiences. 

“...and god my feet were killing me, she wanted to walk with me all the way down the block and-“ she stopped analyzing his posture, his broad and freckled back still slightly covered in drops from the shower, his V-line angled to the side to a point where if she tugged on his hips juuuust right it would be sure to drop in one fell swoop, combined with the fact that he was shaving. 

“Honey?” 

“Yes, dear?” He side eyed her and smirked before turning his eyes back to the mirror, finishing the last of the area around his upper jaw and by his cheekbones.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” She questioned, standing next to him now, looking at him directly through the mirror. He licked his lips at the sight of her minorly aggressive position and broke contact.

“Just for a bit, love, I’ll be back probably when you’re asleep.”

“And were you planning on telling me?”

“And were you planning on being a tease this morning after I gave you such a lovely time last night?”

He watched her mouth open and close as if she were about to say something and faltered, and snorted. “Yes, exactly, I thought so,” he said, turning around to grab a hand towel, splashing water on his face to rinse off the cream.

“Oh...I see what this is,” she purred. He stopped and slowly pulled his face up to the sink, setting a hand down on the sink to ground him from the massive hard on that was occurring under his towel, and turning towards her.

“What was that?” 

“I think you’re a pent up, horny teenager that doesn’t like being told no,” she smiled cruelly at him and watched as Fred’s jaw tensed ever so slightly. 

He rolled it gently and went to move past her but she was quicker, and pushed him backward with five painted red nails to his chest. She looked up at him and roughly scratched down his torso, causing Fred to hiss at the fresh red stripes. She slid a hand up his chest and stopped at the column of his throat, gripping ever so slightly, before leaning up to kiss him and pulling away just so he could feel her exhale.

“Have a nice night, Freddie,” she whispered before quirking a brow and grinning, prancing off to their bedroom alone.

When she was out of earshot he shakily breathed out, trying to steady his breathing and his yearning cock - he’d deal with her later for sure, regardless of his behavior or not.

It was 9:32, approximately 28 minutes before George would pick him up outside his studio apartment…

—

The twins arrived at around 10:15, the drive there filled with only uncomfortable silence at what was to come. George was a bit pissed to say the least, once again Fred was getting his way for an adrenaline run, and this time Y/N had backed him up.

George’s last place he would be right now is behind the wheel of his own fucking car.

He parked it next to Dean’s sleek, jet black chevy, his hands gripping the steering wheel ever so slightly as he leaned back against the headrest.

“You realize if we get caught we could never race again, right?” George prompted quietly.

“Here’s an idea; don’t.” Fred rolled his eyes, reaching over to flick his brother in the ear, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.” George grumbled, turning off the ignition, listening to the signature growl of his engine grind to a stop. 

“Why is it always such a bad idea to do anything fun once in a while, Georgie,” Fred grumbled, his knee bouncing against the floor of the car. “It’s not like we’ve had anything to do as of late, you know.”

“Of course, besides, hmm, I dunno, not making our sponsors upset? By like possibly following the very slight and basic set of rules we’ve been given?” George snipped, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He sighed to himself and went to get out of the car when Fred grabbed his arm.

“Hey, you agreed to this too, you know-”

“Yes, at the behest of my lovely fiance and my snot nosed, ant thorax of a barely older brother and as such, I’m driving this thing when this shit factory of a drag race starts.” He whacked Fred’s arm away and exited the car, immediately all but smiles on his face as he went to greet his friends, a sporadic and adrenaline heated Fred on his tail.

“Well if it isn’t the two most obnoxious bastards in NASCAR,” Fred turned to see his best friend and ex-pit crew member, Roger Davies, and excitedly gripped him in a hug, hands clapping backs and tears falling down cheeks at the renewal of friendship.

“Georgie! Look, it's Rog!”

“Holy shit, not my first husband-!”

“Your only husband, Weasley number 5, and Fred can disagree all he wants,” Roger grinned and pulled both boys into a hug before whispering in their ear, “watch out for Finnegan and Thomas, boys, the cheating hasn’t stopped since last season,” leaving the twins utterly confused.

“Oi! Not another sleepover without me?” Boomed Dean from behind them. Roger immediately pushed past the two entirely confused twins and went to clap Dean on the back.

“Just getting them acquainted with the rules before a race...you know how hard it is to follow all the rules, don’t you, mate?” Roger winked and headed back to the twins, moving them back to the car as all the other drivers retreated to theirs.

“Rog, what was all that?” Fred whispered.

“Dean has been known to be a bit...well, shifty as of late with these. Always been a bit of a windy bloke, you get it, but ever since Target dropped him from the sponsorship he hasn’t really been...getting off as much in racing as he used to.” Roger nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, leaning against the back of George’s car.

“By ‘cheating’ what does that entail?” George crossed his arms in repose.

“He’s always been a thrill chaser, you know this, Georgie.”

That was true, Dean had always been after a nice high. An adrenaline junkie back at primary school, Dean and Fred (as George unfortunately remembered) would feed off each other like invasive flowers, the group think of two singularly aggressive and needy young boys clouding the canopy of their friends (and brothers) with misfortune. Anything from groundings to almost arrests to nights spent aimlessly wandering the London streets in the wee hours of the morning - to Dean’s favorite: bets.

Dean would bet and bet and bet if his life depended on it and when it came to racing, if there was a bet out in his name to win, he was sure as shit going to make sure that he was the winner, this led to more and more alterations to his cars, some that even street racing frowned upon. The media never got their hands on the true reason Dean had lost his Target sponsorship; just one simple, illegal, engine part. One that gave him the lead in a race that caught him out. 

“How hasn’t someone banned him then?” George laughed, looking over at his friends, only for Roger to clear his throat with a chuckle himself.

“You can’t ban someone from street racing, Georgie, not without the authority that NASCAR has.” Roger explained, pushing away from George’s car to head towards his own. “See you on the track, boys.” 

“Track?” Fred choked over the words, confused thoroughly at this point.

“I don’t think we’re in for just a drag race, Freddie.” George gulped, watching Roger slip inside his car, the lights flashing on and the sounds of rumbling engines echoing through the air. 

—

“What do you mean I can’t drive your car.” Fred practically whined, if his eyes rolled any harder they would be in the back of his head.

“I mean what I said, dumbass, you’re not driving my car.” George protested, his arms crossing over his chest as he stood protectively in front of the driver’s side door.

“But you’d let me drive it in a drag race, that doesn’t make any sense, like at all.” 

“That was when you had to drive in a straight line, you are not putting my baby in danger just to race her round a track.”

“Your baby? George, you do realise I race too right?” 

“Fuck off. You’re not driving, that’s final.”

“Yes the fuck I am, now move.” Fred was practically pushing his brother out of the way as he tried to get himself in the driver’s seat. “Twenty minutes ago you didn’t even want to be here, now you want to drive?”

“Fine.” George sighed, finally stepping aside, only to grab the back of Fred’s shirt. “One scratch and you’ll be fixing it, either that or I’ll break you.” 

“I’m not gonna crash the car, George, now get in.” Fred slid inside the car, George following suit on the passenger side. Fred went to pull out of the space that George had parked the car in, only to stall, dropping the clutch out of excitement, causing his younger brother to yell, out loud and quickly. 

“Nope! I’m not doing this.”

“Fucking hell, George, shut up I can drive.” 

—

There was something about the way tires kicked dust up as they sped around the dirt track that had Fred on edge. This race was unlike anything he’d ever seen or been a part of before, if he was being brutally honest it was exhilarating to be doing something like this, much more so when his brother was sat in the passenger seat. He didn’t need to look over or even take his eyes off the road to know that George was already being hypercritical of Fred’s driving skills, especially when the livelihood of his pride and joy of a car lay in another’s hands.

If George were gripping the steering wheel in that moment, his knuckles would have been well and truly white, watching clouds upon clouds of dust spray over the freshly washed exterior of his car. Instead, George’s hand was dripped tightly on the door, bracing himself for the sharp corners and bumpy jolts, thinking about how all the up and down was surely going to fuck his suspension. 

Fred laughed to himself, but mostly at the way his twin was acting, almost as if George hadn’t spent most of his adult life behind the wheel of a car driving faster than any other man would dream of. Fred shouted over the roar of the engine “Jesus, Georgie, let loose a little will you?”

“I’d be way less uptight if you would have just let me drive.” George replied, sighing to himself, a small ‘woah’ falling from his mouth at the feeling of the back wheels spinning.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that decision.” Fred laughed back, passing a car that had the unfortunate and untimely end of spinning themselves off the joke of a track. Once the dust parted and George saw the mess in front of him, his eyes widened, heart racing if it could have beaten any faster.

“I will kill you if you do that.” the younger man grumbled, watching Fred speed past car after car, pushing them up the ranks. 

“I told you I won’t crash your precious car… I’m starting to think you love her more than your lovely lady.” Fred bit his lower lip to stop himself laughing at his own comment. Looking up in the rear view mirror, he spotted the glistening black and bright blue of Roger and Dean gaining on the lead the twins had.

It was nearing what Fred hoped to be the end of the track, watching as the finish line grew nearer with every second. In what seemed to be all at once, a loud revving came in from Fred’s Left, The lightning bolt blue car overtaking George’ in a matter of seconds, pushing right past the finish line without a care in the world. Following closely in second was Dean’s beauty of a car, Fred managing to keep right behind his two friends, pulling third rank in the race. 

—

Fred was the first out of the car, slamming the door behind him as his rage was starting to bubble out from his lungs. George hurried to catch up with his older brother, the look in his eyes and his body language evident that nothing short of violent impulsivity would amount from the situation. Fred pushed past Roger, ignoring the pleas for peace, he was never mad at Rog, Rog deserved a top rank, but his anger was centered towards Dean.

Dean needed a nice loss.

“Oi, Thomas.” He got closer to the man, Dean turning around slowly, a haughty sense of pride glazed on his face. “What’s wrong, Freddie, I’d figured after your little twelfth place at the table third should be a nice welcome to you,” he drawled, before Fred lunged at him, getting held back only by Davies.

“Aw, does poor little Freddie still need a babysitter?”

“Open that mouth one more fucking time-”

“Fred-” Roger stuttered.

“No,” he pushed from his grasp and proceeded to get inches from Dean’s face

Dean smirked and leaned back to grab a beer from the cooler beside him. “Fred. Your little tough guy act doesn’t scare me anymore, you know that.”

George stepped up next to Fred, “It’s not an act, mate, I think you know us well enough by now to get that we don’t take kindly to cheaters,” he said softly, rising to his full height.

Dean immediately leaned back at the sight of the two gingers, and even going as far as shrinking at the pure sight of Roger Davies, not as tall but definitely as intimidating, standing between them.

“The track never did cater to a liar, Thomas, we figured you’d know that by now,” Roger added quietly. 

Dean scoffed, the adrenaline clearly rising in his chest, as the men behind him started to eye each other, the violence of the situation reaching a silent all time high. “I’m not gonna take shit from a losing tosser, his stooge of a younger brother, and a dumb blonde-“ 

Fred had launched himself all the way forward, his index and thumb forming a U shape as he grabbed Dean’s face, slamming it directly into the window. Dean struggled in Fred’s grasp, lifeless and sloppy fists flying in every direction possible. When Fred finally pulled off the boy and began to walk off, a smug and bloody smirk gracing his haughty face, Seamus lunged forward, a punch matching the back of Fred’s head. 

A full on fight occurred, George rushing forward to slam Seamus to the ground, dust flying in every which way under the artificial lights. Fred had taken to pummeling Dean as if he was losing himself entirely in aggression.

The twins had always had an aggressive streak - but it had rarely been released in their current younger years of “adulthood.” 

Amongst the mess of brawling fists and kicked up dirt, Roger had managed to summon the presence of one of the two Weasley girls - you, the understanding quick thinker with a tendency to be for whatever your boyfriend did and Fred’s Wife, the american firecracker who rarely took no for an answer.. When you had arrived, Rog and George were stopping Fred from lurching at Dean once more, Instead you were focused on the graze that lay above George’s brow, taking a deep breath and shaking your head at just how reckless he had become. 

“George Weasley, I swear to fucking god you bastard.” You shouted, pulling him up by his bicep and pushing him back against his dust-covered car. “One night I leave you, One night and you end up in a back street race nearly getting your ass handed to you by Dean fucking Thomas-”

“It was Seamus, actually-”

“Not the fucking point, George.” you slapped his chest, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, keeping you pulled close, a small smirk hanging off his lips.

“Fred said I needed to let loose, and I did and it was the best fun I’ve had since the end of season… but that obviously isn’t what I should be saying… I’m sorry, really am.”

You rolled your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips as you rested your head on his chest, with all the stress that NASCAR had given him, it really was the best thing that he was getting some actual joy in his free time. “At least you had fun.”

-

You knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long, not with the puppy dog eyes he was giving you as he knelt down on the floor, elbows resting on the mattress to look at you. Part of him realised that he needed to not piss you off any more than he already had, after all it was a little more than what you were expecting from him and with so much on the line after all of his hard work you were more mad at the fact he would so easily chance it.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He quipped, a small smile on his lips as he stretched his back out, leaning forward across the mattress, fingertips grazing over your knee.

“You know what you’re doing.” You sighed, trying to look away from him, only to feel his full firm grip squeeze at your thigh.

“I’m just trying to apologize to you.”

“Yeah right.”

“I know how much you gave up to be here with me, for us, for me to achieve my dreams and I only went and nearly threw it away for a cheap race and I’m sorry.” 

His eyes were glassy, filled with a sadness that you only recognised from the day he left for America, he truly was sorry for what had happened. 

“I want to make it up to you, princess.” He pushed himself up onto the bed, his head resting on the pillow, your eyes never leaving him as you watch him shift to get comfortable. 

Your hand reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes, watching his eyes flutter closed as a small sigh fell from his lips. You were quick to shift so that you lay next to him. 

“There’s nothing to make up for, Georgie.” You smiled softly, shifting slightly closer to him, feeling his hand drape lazily over your side. Something about seeing him so vulnerable made you want to protect him with your whole heart and yet he was always the one to protect you.

“There’s everything to make up for, my love.” He smirked, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours softly before pressing a small kiss to your lips. “Just let me make you feel good.”

“George you don’t–” You went to protest, but he was quick to cut you off with another kiss, this time his hand gently pulling your hips closer towards him.

“I know just the way to make things up to you.” He pushed himself up slowly, arm wrapping around you to lay you down on your back, finding his place between your thighs, your legs either side of his hips.

His hands slowly raked up your thighs, finding his way up to your hips, fingers hooking underneath the waistband to pull the material down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. You had almost forgotten how much of a tease George could be, the way his fingers had quickly found your clit, the long digits finding your entrance soon after, only to warm you up.

Positioning himself with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he drew in a breath, releasing the cool exhale over you as you sighed frustratedly, hips bucking to try and get some friction if any, only for his hand to push your hips back down, a chuckle falling from his lips.

The second his tongue was licking a prominent stripe along your aching pussy, you were well and truly putty in his hands. Each flick of his tongue had you squirming, unrestrained moans falling from your lips as the pleasure built.

It didn’t take him long to attach his lips to your clit, sucking relentlessly at the bundle of nerves, his fingers pushing knuckle deep into you, curling up to hit your favourite spot, having you a wordless mess of nothing but moans of his name.

“Such a pretty thing you are, baby.” He hummed, thumb coming up to circle over your clit as he watched the way you had thrown your head back, your hands finding his hair to pull him back down needily, earning a chuckle from him.

His tongue continued its work, pulling you closer and closer to release with every flick. He didn’t let up until your thighs were shaking and your chest heaving, mind clouded only with thoughts of him and how lucky you were.

—--

Fred Weasley got home all too late, the door closing a bit louder than the man had wanted behind him. The slightly elder Weasley crept from the doorway to the bedroom, careful to mind the light creaks in the hardwood floor, taking every ounce of stress on his feet to avoid any miscalculations. 

When he got to the bedroom, he saw the woman he loved, asleep no doubt by the sight of her mussed hair and lightly agape expression on her lips. Fred exhaled slowly, what he thought was quietly, until he heard her voice clearly say:

“So where were you?”

The man before her felt his heart thump harder than he felt when his own mother would corner him in the kitchen, the memories of sneaking out and sneaking back only to return with a-

“So are you going to tell me where you were?”

“Out.”

“No, really?” She spat, sitting back up and clicking the lamp on, her face etched with rage.

“I waited up for you the entire night, the least I probably deserve is an explanation.”

“Well, love, you didn’t seem to want to talk to me earlier, so I guess the lack of communication goes both ways, now move over.” he said briskly, beginning to take off his shirt. When she didn’t move, her face unwavering in anger, he rolled his jaw, swallowing back and refusing to feel the light effervescence of guilt in his throat.

“I said m-”

“I’m aware. See, Fred,” his wife exited the bed, and unfortunately for him, she was clad in only the black satin nightie he had gotten for her after his first big win. The guilt was rising now, as was something else low on his hips.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I am, I-”

“Interrupt me again, and you get the couch, got it?” He nodded, his eyes drawn to the tears welling up in hers. “Fred, I’m your wife now and-and knowing my husband, my husband was out doing god knows what or who for that matter and has the audacity to come back in at three in the morning and be pissed at me? Who the hell are you?” 

“I was racing! I was racing alright, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I came in late and made you pissed because I love you and I am never going to do this again but God can you please put something else on so I can focus correctly-” and then he was kissing her, and somewhere deep in his cerebral cortex, this was probably unbearably toxic, for him to start apologizing angrily for the shit that he put her through but-

“God, you are a piece of fucking work aren’t you?” She snarled, already beginning to unbuckle and unzip his pants. 

“But ‘m your piece of work, and currently,” he spat back, mouth melding in a messy and unkempt addition to hers, the entire situation wholly and completely Fred in every way possible, as he shed himself of his shirt and picked her up, “-I’d like to be fucking you.”

It didn’t take him long to pitch her body on the bed, his wife scrunching delectably at his fiery hair and his own ropy and iron hands squeezing at the bottom of her bare thighs. It had been long, too long, and with the already latent tension from their little bathroom incident earlier in the day - there wouldn’t be any denying Fred nor his girl of a quick, ravenous fuck tonight.

“Missed you so much, baby,” she whined, yanking his head up to mold herself to him in a heated kiss, the man atop her not needing to be shown twice at her action. “Missed you more, had me fuckin’ twitching and creaming in a car earlier, you did,” he chuckled, arousal thick and evident in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” He rasped, his eyes scrunching close as one of her delightfully un-dainty and gently calloused hands palmed him over his boxers. “God, wanted you so bad, baby, wanted to just drop the towel and have you on the sink, then ‘n there.”

“You mean that?” She said shakily, as he kissed her one last time before sliding down her body, his lengthy digits trailing down above him.

“God, absolutely, and if I look under here I wonder if - oh look at that, ‘was right, wasn’t I?” Much to her disagreeing whine, he sat up on his heels, his damn near naked body covered in sweat, his myriad of constellations adorning his chest like only the finest stars in the night sky. He looked up at her, the face only him or his twin could make, rum eyes bright and full of mischief, but also something else more sinister as his fingers trailed up her thighs.

“Fred, please-”

“‘Got you, baby, don’t you worry about me,” he mused, lazily almost, while his fingers drifted higher up the apex of her thigh before-

“No.” She said simply.

“Shit, I’m sorry do you want me to stop-?”

“No.” Fred’s wife, almost too fast for him to register, threw her left thigh around his waist, gathering momentum from her other leg fast enough to get him on his back, effectively pressing her hand to the center of his chest before all he could say was:

“Didn’t know you could do that, love,” he drawled, a quirk of a brow and a little smile on his face.

“You didn’t know I could do a lot of things, Freddie.” She shot back, bringing her nails up and in to scratch at his bare chest, her hips rolling to his and rubbing his tip under his boxers so well he thought he was going to explode.

“You have any plans beyond making me cum in m’pants, dear?” He hummed, his hands reaching up and under her satin to cup and squeeze at her bare ass.

“I was planning on making you cum so hard your ears pop, actually.”

“Merlin, woman, get on with it then,” he groaned, her laugh bubbling in his ears like champagne as her nails abandoned their spot on his broad chest to the hills and valleys of his v-line, the light grazing and nimble touch causing a wanton moan to erupt from the back of his throat along with a small, “fuckin’ hell, petal.” He watched with rapt but seemingly pained eyes as she slowly - too slowly, for his personal taste - began to lift her hips and grind the tip of his erection, his palms getting more clammy as he waited with need for her to sink onto him - if she’d even give him that.

But all too soon, she stopped her rolling onto his cock, making him swear at the loss of contact. “Goddamnit, fuck me already.”

“Oh, Freddie,” she preened, moving a hand back to cover one of his own sliding it to her soaking cunt, “after how bad you’ve been today? And you think I’m gonna reward you? Baby…” she drawled, reaching down to squeeze his thick cock, the action alone making him grunt and his neck veins pulsate with life.

“‘Do anything y’want, anything,” he whined, desperately trying to fuck his hips up to meet her friction. He knew his wife would push him, push him to the absolute limit until his dick exploded and his throat gave out from how hard he’d be screaming, she’d done it before, but it was so late, and God, he needed to bury himself deep in the milk and honey of her sex before it was too late.

“Then you have to be a good boy, Freddie, remember?”

“I know, I know, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ma’am,” he babbled, the pleasure and lack of stimulation running through his veins. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice small and pliant like rubber.

She cocked a brow at him, curling her shiny red nails around his chin and gently tilting him toward hers. 

“Been so bad, baby boy, but I guess ‘m gonna have to give you a treat some time…you just look so delicious like this,'' she purred, moving her hands to the swell of his bulge, delighting in the whine that escaped his throat like the rush of water in a stream (or something a bit more sinful in its entirety.) Fred’s wife swiftly lifted his cock free from it’s confines, his hands coming immediately to steady at her hip bones and kneading greedy circles into the tough skeleton. 

“Ready f’me, precious?”

“Fred, don’t be pretending you’re the one on top at present,” 

“Good Lord, woman, stop the banter and rock already.” The two chuckled breathlessly at Fred’s words, his wife pressing an airy kiss to his red and puckered mouth before bringing her cunt to just barely graze his tip, a movement that had the ginger subjected to her ministrations roll his eyes back and murmur a throaty “fuck” against her lips. 

“Baby, please-“

“I know, Freddie, my love ‘ve got you,” she whispered before finally sinking down onto him, both partners releasing hisses and throaty moans at the feeling of being one.

It took no time at all for the ginger beneath to bring his hands to her now bouncing ass, guiding her roughly to every ridge of his cock. She was sloppy, the ride of pushing Fred’s high further and further to the forefront of his system. Fred oh the other hand had started to spastically fuck up into her now, moaning out her name the more he listened to the sound of her wet cunt being slid up and down on his thick cock. 

She was close, dangerously close, the feeling of his balls clapping against the bottom of her ass in time with her pants. Fred was in nirvana, the way the light graced the sides of her face making her look like the most fallen of angels when-

“Fred, I can’t, I, please”

“I know, bub, ‘m right there with you,” he coaxed, all too soft in contrast with the rampant fucking he was giving her, waiting until he could feel her about to soak his cock before flipping her over, almost too quickly throwing her legs around his waist and thrusting further than what he thought was possible. His hands gripped hers and somewhere in his mind he blacked out against the feeling of the black satin rubbing against his torso. 

“Baby-“

“Fred-“

Fred relished the feeling of her collapsing around him, his back fully extended as he rolled softly and slowly into her to push them through their conjoined high. He loved this, he always had, how her body heaved gently under his and his hands and mouth could whisper sweet nothings into her skin, soothing her form and giving her all the love he could possibly muster. 

“I am sorry you know, bub.” He finally said after a while, his hands rubbing back and forth on her thighs. 

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, smiling lightly against his mouth as her eyes fluttered shut, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t do it again okay-?” She whispered.

“Baby, you know I won’t. Scout’s honor ‘n all-“

“You didn’t let me finish, Weasley!”

“Well, then what’s the rest of it?” 

She smiled at him before craning her lips to his ear: “next time you drag race, I better watch.”

She giggled when he threw the covers above their heads.

—

It was two days later, the sun blaring just as brightly as it had when Dean Thomas proposed a drag race, and now, as the front door bells jingled an entrance, the twins had done something they didn’t last time.

“We’re closed,” they both said flatly, not looking up from the respective cars.

“Even for me?” A familiar voice asked the boys, causing them both to raise their heads.

“Sirius!” They both squawked, the lanky men scrambling to their feet to hug their favorite agent, the older man hugging them back immediately.

“Why’ve you come from LA?”

“Yeah, is something wrong? I can guarantee you whatever it was it was 100% George’s fault-”

“Fred.”

“Sorry.”

Sirius released a small smile that had been tugging at his face the whole interaction. “Boys, I’ve got a bit of an announcement for you.”

“And what would that be?” George asked suspiciously. Fred looked out the corner of his eye at his twin, and all Sirius did was throw his hands out and up.

“Boys: we’re going to Monaco.”

[dinsbeskar]

do you think that before the fall of Numenor Sauron dressed up as Halbrand again and went to the forge he worked at to tell them "you better get outta here, trust me"

Naaaaaaaaaah I can't think about it!!!!

Not sauron getting sentimental and going back to the forge, finding the blacksmith who gave him a chance, and putting him and his family on a boat.

Ummmmm your brain???

Whenever I tackle the fall of numenor (probably when s3/4 comes out, let's be fair, so it's a way off) i will remember this and link you (if you drop your username I'll credit you 💜)

Oh dear, never mind, I wrote it. I'm tagging sauron x reader bc it fits into my series, but reader is only mentioned like once lmfao sorry.

Putting on Halbrand again is a strange feeling after having walked the streets of Númenor as himself. The people knew him as a dark wizard, would bow their heads and scurry out of his path whenever he deigned to leave the palace, so to walk among them as a ragged commoner once more was strangely refreshing.

Too bad the isle was on its countdown to destruction.

He'd actually grown to enjoy his time here, corrupting an entire people's very souls, bar the few Faithful. They would prove useful, as they prepare their ships today to leave for Middle Earth, their attempts at subterfuge no match for his all-seeing gaze.

The streets wound and meandered down the hill toward the sea, the guild district apparent from the scent of smoke and clanging of hammers. It took him only a quick glance inside the shop to know he was in the right place. The smith was older, noticeably so, and his ward had grown from a boy into a strapping young man, but he recognised them instantly.

"Show me your work, and I'll think about it."

Those words had changed everything for him once upon a time. Aulë’s smith had wanted nothing more than to craft beautiful things in that tiny forge, left alone to do his penance. Morgoth's shadow scoffed at the idea, now his plans were near fruition, but a tiny part of him wanted to save the beauty of the craft he'd seen in that tiny family-owned shop.

"Well, don't linger in the doorway, lad, come in, what can we do for you?" The smith's gruff voice rang out like a hammer on steel, jerking Sauron back to the present.

"Greetings, good sir, I don't suppose you remember me-"

"Nonsense! Halbrand, wasn't it? I thought you went across the sea? Shame that, you were one of the best apprentices I ever had, even if it were only for a few days."

Sauron grins at the indignant look on his apprentice's face.

"Only one of the best? I suppose I'll have to take that." Look at him, humble. It was possible.

"Well, the lad here gives you a run for your money, and if you'd stayed longer...? You haven't aged a day." The smith trails off as Sauron steps closer, the light from the furnace bouncing off his rugged face.

"Probably something in the water." He shrugs; bandying about pleasantries was not why he'd come all this way.

"Listen, I've heard there are boats leaving the island soon," he raises his eyebrows, "and it might not be a bad idea to get on one."

They look at each other, take a beat, then scoff, laughing at the idea of leaving paradise.

"Why would we want to do that, eh, lad? Me whole life is here, I'm an old man, I'm goin' nowhere." The old smith replies.

"Call it... a gut feeling, that Númenor is in danger. That perhaps the faithful are the rats leaving a sinking ship?"

Why is he doing this? In the back of his mind, he has to wonder what his true purpose is here. Certainly, the craftsmanship is superb, it would be a terrible shame to see it sink beneath the waves. Definitely nothing deeper than that, definitely not the vaguest notion of doing a man a good turn when he'd offered him the same, so very long ago.

The old smith seems unconvinced, exchanges a few more pleasantries, but the young man at his side seems more pliable.

"Good to see you again, Halbrand. If you don't get on one of them ships, come back and I'll see if I can throw some work your way." The smith laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

Sauron winces imperceptibly, the feeling of flesh on flesh so casually still a strange notion, even after all this time.

He nods and departs, waiting for the apprentice to run after him. He does so, predictably, and Sauron fixes his best surprised expression before turning around to greet him.

"What you said, about the boats? What do you know?" The lad asks, almost muttering to stay out of bounds of any prying ears.

"Just that they're leaving tonight and tomorrow, and that you should get on one." He gives him a knowing look, trying to impress upon him that he can't say what will happen, but that something will and it will be cataclysmic.

"I can't convince him to go, but folks have been talking for a while now, what with that new temple on high and the wizard in the palace, things are..."

"Precarious." Sauron finishes his sentence for him, nodding knowingly.

He had been responsible for a good many changes under Ar-Pharazôn's rule, the temple for Morgoth probably his crowning achievement. Of course it had set some of the common folk on edge, but that was a small price to pay for the hearts of a nation.

"I'll try and convince him." The lad finally replies, worry etched on his smoke-blackened face.

"Do. And don't fail."

Sauron leaves then, giving only a second glance to the young man still watching after him. He had tried. One good deed for another, after all. You'd be proud of him, he'd make sure of it.

Oh no. He stops in his tracks, infuriated at the mere thought of you. So that's what has him feeling sentimental.

He curses your name and makes his way back to the palace, taking in the sights of Númenor one more time. It would be any day now.

[jungkookienoona]

Finishing Touch

Recommended Song: Good to Me by Seventeen

|Masterlist|

Summary:

As your elder brother's apprentice, he sometimes sent you on errands for him. This time you didn't mind so much when you met the handsome blacksmith who mantained the tools of your trade.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Blacksmith!Jungkook X Carpenter!FemReader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, heavy handed flirting, blacksmithing/carpentry jargon, I JUST LOVE CRAFTS OKAY, Namjoon is the older brother who wants whats best for you, reader has buff arms but its not really mentioned, Jungkook and reader are both a little weird, crackish?, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, reader knows what she wants, face sitting, oral(m&f),multiple orgasms, 1 spank. Jungkook is a biter. Multiple positions. let me know if there's any I missed.

Word Count: 6k

So this in unbeta'd so sorry for any mistakes. I'll also be adding the poem I wrote that somewhat inspired this at the end.

Some days you cursed the day you asked Namjoon to be his apprentice. He was a capable carpenter and an attentive brother, but he was the biggest klutz you had ever seen! Which meant you were often sent on errands by him as he nursed his latest injury. You loved him dearly, you just wished he was more careful. What had you on your most recent one for him was a twisted ankle he had received after slipping on some wood shavings.

Namjoon had his tools handcrafted by a surprisingly local blacksmith who you had yet to meet. And apparently after a horrendously bad attempt at maintaining said tools, his blacksmith had forbade him from even trying and demanded that anytime upkeep was needed, Namjoon was to take his tools to this blacksmith where he would be discounted the cost. The benefits of being a regular you guessed.

So with a box of blunt chisels in grasp, you shifted them to rest on your hip so you could open the door to the blacksmith. A system bell twinkled above you to mark your arrival. The interior wasn’t quite what you had imagined it would be. When you thought of blacksmiths, what honestly came to mind was that they all looked like they did in mediaeval fantasy films. Cramped, hot and full of hazards. But much like how Namjoon’s shop is fairly modernised, so is this one. 

The entrance was a crisp white and sectioned off from the main workshop. There was a standing desk that looked to be bare save a lone laptop and a card reader. Behind the desk to the side was a code locked door, seemingly soundproof. Next to the door, thus directly behind the desk, was a large window, also soundproof as you did not hear the sound of the forge fire that was in clear sight. Through the window you saw the workshop itself, spaciously layed out as to minimise trips and accidents. Different tools safely stored away in carefully organised shelves. Grindstones and sanding belts lined in a row for sharpening. A power hammer tucked away in a corner. The forge was central on the back wall with the anvil not too far away. There was a work table pressed up against the wall opposite to the grindstones, where you saw the smith, setting something down before heading to the door.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you saw the smith for the first time, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to be so handsome. Shoulder-length hair was tied away with some loose strands framing his face, some soot smeared across his cheek highlighting a small scar. It made you want to get the rag out of your pocket to clean him up a bit. Big doe eyes met yours and you were captured in them like the small galaxy of lights they reflected. He wore a fitted grey long-sleeve shirt, its sleeves rolled up, a pair of cargo pants and a tool belt. You had to stop yourself from staring at the tattoo sleeve that consumed his arm.

The smith cleared his throat, snapping you out of your daze, “What can I do for ya?” He asked, gesturing towards the box.

“Oh! Uh, my brother- Namjoon- needed some things sharpened but had a bit of a… mishap,” you felt a blush colour your cheeks.

“Ah~ So you’re Namjoon’s little sis. He talks about you a lot whenever he stops by.” He took the box from you and surprised you a little when he grasped one of your hands to inspect, “looks like he wasn’t lying, you’ve been putting the work in, these calluses are impressive.”

You gently pulled your hand away, blurting out against your will, “are you like this with every girl you meet?”

“Only the pretty and talented ones,” he said with a wink, “do you want to come on through as I sort these out? Shouldn’t take too long.”

You nodded dumbly, reeling from his apparent flirtatiousness. 

He gave you a lopsided smile before turning, punching in the code and opening the door. He gestured with his head for you to go in first. It was warm in the workshop, almost sweltering. 

“How can you wear a long-sleeve here? It feels like I’m about to melt and I’m in a t-shirt.”

He shrugged, “You get used to it I guess. I’ve been working around the forge since I started apprenticing under my father at thirteen. Also stops my arms from getting burnt when sparks fly.”

That made sense. He headed over to the grindstones, set the box down and got to work. You noticed the stonewheel he was using was different from the others. It was situated in a wooden basin of water, wetting it as it spun. It was also most hypnotising, watching him pick up a chisel, make sure the angle is perfect before putting it to the grind. Once satisfied he would get a leather strip and give the chisel a few swipes against it.

"This is called 'Stropping', it polishes the edge and makes sure there's no imperfections in it that aren't visible without a microscope or something."

He set the chisel on a nearby table and picked up the next one.

"This doesn't look so hard, how did Namjoon fuck up so bad that you'd need to do this for him?"

"He would lose and chip his edge in his sharpening attempts. But I don't mind doing this much for him as a favour if he helps me out with a few projects from time to time."

You raised a brow in interest, "Such as?"

"Carving axe handles, knife hilts, spear shafts, things like that. Especially if it's a custom order that stipulates some sort of cosmetic aspect to those. Though he's come out to fix my bed a few times."

"Your bed? Is it old?"

Jungkook chortled, "No… let's say it's well loved." Your cheeks coloured, immediately catching on to what he meant. "Sometimes it was some of the supporting struts the mattress sits on, once it was a leg. Namjoon was an angel for fixing that in such short notice. Though I haven't had to call him out in a while."

"Ah, you've taken pity on it."

"Not quite, just been too busy for a relationship recently."

You deflated a little at that, not that you were interested. It was just a shame such a handsome man was off the market.

"What about you? Anyone in the picture?"

You huffed, "Nope. Namjoon hasn't approved of anyone who's shown even a hint of interest in me. And his fucking vibe checks always turn out correct. Last guy was a potter and Namjoon felt there was something off, so he catfished him, turned out the dude had a wife and kids."

Jungkook stopped what he was doing and turned to you with wide eyes, jaw slack, "No fucking way."

"Yep, sometimes it's suffocating to have such a protective older brother. But in that situation I was thankful."

"He does talk like the sun shines out your ass. He once said, and I quote, 'I will not let the hardships of this world sully her'. That was when we went out for drinks and he started complaining about a… dancer?... that wanted to be fuck buddies with you."

You put your head in your hands, "That guy was spewing some bullshit about how having sex regularly would limber him up and make him a better dancer."

"And according to Namjoon you almost fell for it."

"It made sense at the time!" You cried in embarrassed betrayal.

"You sound just a little frustrated," he said with a bunny toothed grin.

"No shit. All the guys I meet just want my body."

"To be honest, you do have a banging bod but I get that it's annoying for people to be so shallow. I've had similar issues. But do you know what helps me manage the stress of being single?" He paused to give you time to respond but you just shrugged. "My work. Hitting red hot things with a hammer is great for working through things."

"I'd imagine splitting wood with a froe is a similar sensation."

Jungkook tilted his head in confusion, "Excuse me, I'm not entirely acquainted with the processes of carpentry. How is a froe used? The blade doesn't face out like an axe but is on the top so…?"

"You put the blade against the wood and hit it with a mallet, once the wood starts cracking you can use the handle as a lever to pull the wood apart. It's quite effective and is good for getting the wood to the width you need with little shaving."

"Ah yes, so you too get to hammer things." He nodded sagely and got back to work. "Here's an idea, I feel you need a man in your life that isn't a family member, someone to measure potential suitors against. How about once a week we take turns going to each other's workshops. You show me some carpentry tools and techniques, I show you how to maintain the tools of your trade. And we chat, you can get to know me because I already feel like I know you thanks to Namjoon." 

You shook your head, "You know Namjoon's ideal me. So that's a rather rose tinted view."

Jungkook shot you a mischievous smirk, "You saying there's a bad girl side to you Namjoon doesn’t know?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny anything. That's for you to find out."

"I look forward to it."

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

A week later and Jungkook was knocking on your workshop door, Namjoon was taking the day off and so the shop was technically closed. He was in a tank top due to the warmer weather you had been experiencing, which showed off more of his arms and that gorgeous tattoo sleeve of his. Loose fitting sweats clung to his thighs like their existence depended on it and his hair was half up in a bun. His doe eyes were framed by a pair of glasses that suited him far too well. You found yourself biting your bottom lip as you appraised him. He waved hello and chuckled as you noticeably broke out of your trance. 

"I know they're cool," he said gesturing to his sleeve, "maybe someday I'll talk you through them."

You shook your head, "Sorry, just wasn't expecting to see so much of you so soon."

"That's what she said." Childish. "But in all seriousness, it's hot as balls out there and I feel like I'm less likely to get a serious burn here than at the forge. So I thought I'd let the boys breathe a bit."

"You'll have to be extra mindful of splinters then," you half joked. You had gotten some rather nasty ones in your early days before you had gotten yourself some woodworking sleeves. 

You noticed his gaze was going past you to something in the corner and turned to look.

"Is that a wizard? Is Namjoon carving a wooden wizard statue?"

You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Not Namjoon, I am. It's my first proper solo project and it's taken me a good few months just to get a decent base design done. I'll be etching finer details into it soon hopefully."

"Can I ask why a wizard?"

"Wizards are cool. Not like the Harry Potter ones, I mean the types you find in D&D or painted on to the side of a hippy van from the 70s. Ones that ponder the orb."

Jungkook contemplated it before nodding, "I get where you're coming from, but personally I'm more of a fan of warriors and stuff. In fact one of my personal projects has a crusades motif."

"You what?"

He grinned, "It's a long sword I call 'The Inquisitor'. One of my favourites if I do say so myself. One of three in a collection called ‘The Hero’."

“Might want to be careful about who you’re calling a hero there. I don’t know many people who look at crusaders fondly.”

“Yeah I know. Organised religion is flawed but its imagery slaps.” That earned a laugh from you. “So what are you teaching me today?”

You gestured to an overturned incomplete table that was on the floor, “we’re attaching the last two legs with tongue and groove joints and pegs. Namjoon doesn’t like to use wood glue, saying it's ‘a shortcut for quantity over quality’. Which I do actually agree with. Also helps to keep the old methods alive. The grooves have already been cut into where the legs will be going. You'll be helping me with the tongues.”

Jungkook muttered something that you couldn't make out. You got to work, showing him how the width, length and depth of the groove would be transposed onto what would be the tongue. How you triple checked the measurements before committing to them with a saw. You got the table leg into position.

"Right, can you grab that mallet and hammer this into the groove for me. I'll keep it steady."

Jungkook grabbed the mallet, eyebrows knitting as he concentrated on hitting his intended target and not you. With his arms exposed, you saw how his muscles rippled and flexed with each heavy swing. He let out the occasional grunt of effort which you tried not to focus too much on, especially when you noticed his tongue peek out to wet his lower lip. And then he was finished and grinning down at you.

"What now?"

"Now it's your turn. We just have one more leg to attach before we can put the pegs through."

He nodded and immediately got to work copying what he had watched you do. 

"So what made you think you were too busy for a relationship? You clearly have time on your hands if you're here with me."

Jungkook briefly glanced at you then refocused on what he was doing, "My ex. She told me I clearly had two loves in my life, her and my work. Said she hated being runner up in my heart as I was so committed to my craft-"

"I'm sorry but that's bullshit. She broke up with you cause you're passionate about creating things? Because you're carrying on your family business?"

"When you put it that way, yeah."

"That is actual assholery on her part. A life without passion isn't a life at all. If someone had said something like that to me, I would have broken up with them."

"It's nice to hear that at least one person doesn't mind."

"If you don't mind me asking, how long ago was this break up?"

"Two years-"

"TWO WHOLE ASS YEARS?! You, a walking wet dream,” you waved your hand up and down, gesturing to him and his outfit, “have been willingly single for the last two years because of what your ex said."

His cheeks coloured. He set down the pencil and ruler and picked up the saw you had been using. He did two pulls then got to work sawing off the excess.

"Well it gave me time to focus on myself and what I wanted. Made some pretty baller things. And to be honest, it's been pretty hard to think about dating anyone when Namjoon has been talking my ear off about you and singing your praises before I had even met you yet."

Wait a minute… that sounded like Namjoon had been trying to set you up. You knew something was fishy about his ankle injury! It was all part of his plan! You facepalmed at your brother's antics.

"Jesus Joon. I'm so sorry about my brother, if I had known I would have stopped him."

"Hey now, I'm glad to finally put a face to the name. And as I said before, I'd like for you to get to know me. Then we see where it goes from there be it friends or something else, that is if you're interested. Which you seem to be otherwise you would have called me a walking wet dream. To be honest I like the forwardness." He winked at you. “Right, that’s this one all done, are you hammering this time?”

“Sure. As in the hammering.”

Jungkook knelt down and lined the leg up with its groove. Mallet in hand, you tried not to think about how, if the table leg wasn’t there, he would be at the perfect height to- You hit the leg before you could continue that line of thought. You were so focused, you hadn’t realised Jungkook was watching you much the same way you had done to him earlier. A few more good wacks and it was well and truly wedged in. You wiped the sweat from your brow.

“You got some impressive arms, do you go to the gym?”

You shook your head, “Nah, just comes with the job. All this manual labour requires some muscle. Can you help me flip this table?”

Jungkook moved to the other side of the table, lifting on your count and the table was now standing on its legs for the first time. You instructed him to try and hold it steady as you bored holes into the sides that went right through the centre on the joints.

“Since I did the drilling, how about you peg?” You said, handing him four perfectly sized pegs (you had made them earlier and chosen the corresponding drill bit with the right circumference).

“Is carpentry normally full of innuendo?”

“Depends on the carpenter.” You gave him a cheeky grin, “what you’re gonna want to do is hammer the pegs as far in as they’ll go, saw off the excess and finally, sand them.”

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

Next it was your turn to learn from him. You were back in his studio, waiting in his reception area for him to arrive. You spotted him through the window into his workshop, coming out of a door you hadn’t noticed last time. From what you could see, his hair was down, tucked away behind his ear. He was in a plain black oversized t-shirt and brown cargo pants. He walked over to some shelves and picked a few bits and bobs you couldn’t see and set them over by the grindstones. He turned and smiled when he saw you waiting. He jogged over to the door and unlocked it from the inside for you.

“Hey there, fancy seeing you here,” He said, still smiling. You were starting to melt for his cute grins.

“Oh you know, I got invited by some guy. I’m beginning to think the ‘learning each other's trades’ was all just an elaborate ploy to create flirting opportunities.”

He shrugged, “Well that remains to be seen. Come on in, I’ve got everything set up for you.”

“Since you’re not in a long-sleeve, we’re not doing anything that involves heat,” you appraised, walking by him.

“You got that right. I’m not the type to throw someone in the deep end.” 

He led you over to the grindstones where you saw what he had set down. It was a set of chisels. They looked new.

“What’s all this?”

“Today you’ll be learning how to sharpen these chisels, which I made myself by the way, and if I’m satisfied that you’ll be able to take care of them they’ll be all yours.”

You turned to him wide-eyed, “You’re fucking with me right.”

There was that smile again, “Nope. I figured it would do you some good not having to use Namjoon’s, give you some independence from him.”

You squealed and hugged him on impulse then sheepishly let go of him, clearing your throat, “I mean thank you.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, “No problem. It’s just my way of saying thanks for that… pep talk? Last week. And you know, they’re not as time consuming to make as a sword or something. Right, anyway let’s get started. You’ll be using the whetstone.” He pointed at the wheel you had seen him using before.

“Why not the others?”

“Cause we don’t want you losing your temper.”

“I’m not that easily annoyed.” You pouted.

He chuckled, “No not like that. If you try to sharpen something that's already been tempered, which by the way is a heat treatment to harden the steel and alleviate internal stresses, on a dry grind you’ll reheat the metal and lose the temper. So we use a whetstone because it keeps the metal cool. That’s also where the phrase lose your temper comes from.”

You had been nodding along as he spoke, “I see.” 

You picked up one of the chisels and inspected it. It was quite beautiful, a perfectly carved wooden handle (you’d have to ask him about his wood choice later) and the steel had a marble effect which your fingers traced over.

“It’s Damascus steel. A blend of iron carbide and ferrite folded into a steel billet. Not to be confused with real damascus steel because that technique was lost due to cultural suppression.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort for someone you’ve only known for like three weeks.”

“Yeah I know, but as I’ve said, thanks to Namjoon I already feel like I know you. And so far you haven’t done anything that goes against what I’ve come to know… God that sounded creepy.”

“No no, I get you. It’s like when my mum used to talk about her church friends and when I was introduced to them, I already knew what they liked and disliked so it was easier to talk to them.”

“Yeah, you’re the church friend here. Except I don’t mind it when you try to flirt with me. Anyway, shall we? I might need to put my hands on you depending on how well you do, are you okay with that?”

You shrugged, “I’m down with that. I doubt you’d use it as an excuse to grab my tits or something.”

Jungkook blinked at you a few times and shook his head, “Okay first, get the wheel turning, there’s a pedal on the floor which controls it.” You put your foot on it and got the wheel going. “Now what you’d want to do is with one hand on the handle and the other at the base of the steel, you want to angle it so the blade is going to meet the stone correctly.” You went to do as he said. “Ah wait.”

His chest met your back as his arms encircled you, hands guiding on yours to adjust the chisel to the correct angle. You then brought the chisel to the stone and the sound wasn’t all pleasant, neither were the small vibrations in your hands, but his heat was distracting you from it.

“That’s it, just like that. I’ll let you do the next one yourself. I’d say it's time to strop and test it.” He laid out some leather on the table next to the other chisels. You turned, stopping the wheel, and did as you had seen him do last time. “You’re picking this up quickly. You must have inherited all the steadiness that Namjoon didn’t get.”

You were about to question how you’d test it when he started rolling up a pant leg. His legs weren’t all that hairy but there were some noticeable strips missing. He then beckoned you to give him the chisel. You watched in bewilderment as he ran the chisel down a small patch, shearing off the hair there. He beamed at you.

“Cuts like a dream. That’s a pretty good job you’ve done there.”

“Can I ask why you just did that?”

He straightened up and put the chisel to the side.

“Quickest way to test, and as long as they’re washed properly afterwards, there's no harm… other than when I’ve nicked myself.”

“Maybe this is why your ex left you. Not because of your work but because you test the sharpness of blades on yourself-”

“That makes it sound like I self-harm. I do not. I shave. A very clear difference.”

“What I was trying to say is that it's ridiculously weird.”

He pouted this time, “Have I lost all appeal to you now then.”

It was only then you were reminded of how close he was to you. You gulped.

“I uh, I wouldn’t say that. Everyone has their quirks. Like me, I chew on stick-width bits of wood when I’m bored in the workshop.”

Jungkook laughed, properly laughed, a sound you wanted to hear again. “You called me weird and you’re out there literally chewing on wood like a beaver? Talk about double standards. At least my ‘quirk’ tests the quality. What are you doing? Testing the wood density?”

You blushed, “Look sometimes my mouth wants something to do. So what?”

He chuckled, pushed his hair back and got impossibly closer, his eyes darkening, “I had wanted to take this slow, maybe have a few more back and forths, but what am I to do when you tell me something like that.” He cupped your face, thumbing your lower lip, “what am I to think other than I can give it something to do for you.” His eyes flicked between your and your lips, “Can I?”

Jesus fucking christ, you had melted on the spot and all you could do was nod dumbly. The rest of the chisels were forgotten as he crowded your space, lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate dance. His hands fell to your waist as you grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer still. But you stumbled backwards, knocking the whetstone and breaking the kiss.

“Whoops, perhaps my workshop isn’t the place for this. Come on.” Jungkook took your hand and led you through the door you noticed earlier. “Welcome to my home-”

You pushed Jungkook up against the door, lips locking with his in a fever. Not missing a beat, his hands grasped your hips and pulled you into him. He licked at the seam of your lips, asking for permission which you eagerly gave with a moan. His hips rolled into yours and you lightly bit his bottom lip making him groan.

“Wanna take this upstairs?”

“Lead the way.”

Jungkook took you by the hand again and led you through his home, up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. You didn’t have much time to take in your surroundings before he was mouthing and sucking at your neck, thoroughly distracting you. You pressed back into him and felt how hard he had gotten against your ass. 

His hands trailed to your stomach, slipping below your top, “Mind if I?”

“Jungkook, I appreciate the constant checking in but please hurry the fuck up.”

He huffed in amusement. He grasped your top and pulled it up over your head. You hadn’t expected things to turn out as they had done so you were in a sports bra. Again he muttered something you couldn’t quite hear. You took off your bra before you helped him to remove his own shirt and felt yourself grow wetter when you could see his whole chest unobstructed. Those pecs looked very squeezable. You licked your lips, you’d get that opportunity soon you silently vowed. 

“Get on the bed,” you ordered.

He raised a brow, “And why should I?”

You raised onto your toes so that you could reach his ear, “I believe you said you’d give my mouth something to do.” You didn’t have to tell him twice, he was more than eager to situate himself on the edge of the bed. He was in the midst of unzipping his pants when you settled on your knees between his spread legs. “Let me.”

You grasped the edge of his pants and boxers, pulling them both down in one as Jungkook lifted his hips off the bed to aid you. You salivated when his cock sprung up and slapped his stomach. You weren’t patient enough to tease him, opting instead to lick him from base to tip, taking his tip between your lips and easing him further in.

“Shit! Jesus christ!” His fingers tangled into your hair, stopping you from continuing as he tried to hold himself back. “Fuck Y/N warn me before you do something like that. Last thing I want is to be a quick shot.” 

You released him, “I don’t mind that. Come whenever you want.” With that you sank back down on him, taking him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged. 

Jungkook’s head kicked back with a guttural groan. His hips raised, pushing him deeper still and you gagged again.

“S-sorry, I wanna- can I move? Hum if I can move.”

You hummed. Jungkook used his hold on you to keep you still as he thrust into your eager lips. Your eyes welled with tears each time he made you gag but you paid it no mind. Your fingers made their way into your pants and underwear, you began to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. God, you were so wet already. You moaned around him as the heat in you started to build.

“Y/n” he moaned, “I’m gonna, fuck. Boutta cum. If you don’t want me cumming in your mouth- shit- you better stop now.”

You hummed again and stayed put. Jungkook came with a grunt, eyes shut in bliss as you swallowed around him. You only pulled away when you felt him begin to go soft. You held his cock as you licked the remnants of his cum off it, Jungkook whined.

“S-Stop, post nut sensitivity.”

You stopped immediately and sat back, “What would you like to do now?”

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down you, landing on how you still had a hand in your pants though it had stopped its ministrations at this point. “I would like to repay the favour and then after that, hopefully, fuck.”

You giggled, “I’m down for that.” 

You stood and were about to pull your pants down when Jungkook stopped you. Copying what you had done earlier, pulling them down for you but while also showering the newly exposed skin to open mouth kisses. You stumbled a bit since you were still stood up.

“Wait a second, let me sit-”

Jungkook led on the floor and beckoned for you to sit on his face with that damned smile of his, “I have your seat right here, come on.”

Oh you couldn’t say no to such an offer. You lowered yourself until your pussy was just above his mouth, not wanting to crush him. But Jungkook wasn’t having that, he palmed at your ass and pulled you down onto him properly. And much like you had done to him just moments before, Jungkook wasted no time in devouring you. He licked from your pussy to your clit and nipped at it, making you jolt. He eased his tongue into you, making you both moan. You rolled your hips as he kept going, your clit brushing against his nose. You gasped when he switched to sucking on your clit, instead pushing two fingers into you. Oh fuck. You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples for extra stimulation. Jungkook curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot that made your toes curl and a wanton cry leave you. You could feel his smirk as he made it his mission to hit that spot with deadly accuracy. That heat that had been building earlier reignited into a blaze, quickly building in intensity.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, alternating between sucking and rubbing your clit. It didn’t take much more for the heat to reach its peak and spill over. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you came but he didn’t stop. You sighed as he helped you to ride out your high. You dismounted him when you had your fill and watched as Jungkook slipped his tattooed fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. You moaned. Jungkook got up and pulled you into a searing kiss, you could taste yourself on his lips and he could probably taste himself on yours. His erect cock pressed against your stomach.

Jungkook broke away, “How does my bad girl want it? Doggy? Cowgirl? Anyway, it's fine by me.”

“Doggy.”

Jungkook gave your ass a light slap, “Then get on that bed, babe.”

You scrambled onto the bed, making sure to teasingly shake your hips as you did so. Jungkook growled lowly and was quick to follow you. A hand ran down your back, over your slightly reddened cheek. Two fingers brushed against your entrance torturously, dancing around actually entering you. You noticed as well as felt him lean over you to reach into a drawer. He pulled out a foil packet. He opened it and expertly rolled the condom down his length. 

He lined himself up and eased himself into you, giving you a chance to adjust before he pulled out to just the tip and plunged back into you. You swear to god he hit your cervix right then and there. You keened at the delicious sensation, back arching. Jungkook pressed against you, littering your shoulder with marks as he sent spears of pleasure through you with each merciless thrust, his pace brutal. You tried to hold back your moans, knowing you’d be near screaming if your didn’t. To be honest, you felt like you could cream his cock just like this there was just one thing missing. 

“Don’t hold back. I wanna hear you crying because of my dick. Come on. Cry for me Y/N.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore, you were sobbing with each thrust as his tip continually kissed your cervix. He pushed you further into the mattress and anchored your hips into place, holding you still so he could abuse your pussy as he wished. Your fingers grasped at his sheets as all you could do was take it. You weren’t used to being passive when fucking but shit what else could you do? Your ability to think was melting away with each deadly snap of his hips. And then he was stopping and you cried in outrage but he soon had you on your back and his cock in you again. 

“Sorry, I just had to see your face. Oh look at you.” He wiped your tear streaked face.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulders and abruptly continued his onslaught. With the way he was bearing down on you, you wouldn't have been surprised if your back was out of commission afterwards. In fact you think you heard a snap that wasn't from skin meeting skin. God you were so close. One of his hands snaked down to rub your clit in figures of eight. You were clenching around him, cumming just moments after. Your voice ripped from you at the intensity, leaving you gasping.

"Fuck you're so tight!" He groaned, brows knitting together as he concentrated on reaching his own climax. 

In your pleasure-addled state, your impulse control vanished. Your hands reached up and groped at his chest, squeezing them like you had wanted from the get go. Your fingers expertly toyed with his nipples, his hips stuttered as he let out a strained whine.

"It's okay, you can cum. Want you to cum." 

Jungkook let your leg fall so that he could bury his face into the crook of your neck, biting down as he finally released. He stayed like that for a moment, allowing himself a chance to regain his breath before rolling off you and discarding the used condom in a nearby waste bin.

"You are definitely not a good girl. I think I broke a slat in my bed again."

"I think you threw my back out so the slat will have to wait. Can't have my brother fix a bed I've been fucking on."

Jungkook laughed, "That's fine by me. Hey, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"We totally went about this in the wrong order. But yes, I'd love to have dinner with you."

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

Namjoon was taking a break, an americano cupped in his hands, when you gingerly entered the workshop the following day.

“So how are things with Jungkook? Any interest there?”

“Well, he needs a new slat for his bed.”

Namjoon looked disappointed, “Aw I’m sorry. I thought he would be into you. Sorry for getting your hopes up.”

“Oh no, he’s very into me, that’s why I’m fixing the bed.”

A few seconds passed until realisation hit him and he dropped his mug. Scandalised, he shouted, “Y/N!”

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

Thank you so much for reading this very niche fic! I'm tagging posts relevant to this fic with "Finishing Touch" for any asks I get sent, and comments I reply to or possible follow ons are some people have already shown an interest in. Here is an example of the chisels Jungkook made:

And here is the poem:

My Dear Blacksmith

Engrave your design into me; etch your story. Grind, carve, chip and scratch away. Pass your judgement with your tools. In one hand, heat and torment, temptation and punishment. In the other, honour and warmth, loyalty and redemption. Give me depth. Temper me in flames and harden my edges in oil, unbreakable when mastered. You inlay me with precious gold and dazzling jewels to highlight the beauty in your work. Oak and guard, balance and poise just like those who came before. For I am but your sword, an extension of your will. When the time comes, I shall miss you, my dear blacksmith. And as the years will pass us by, you shall wither and age as I dull and rust. But your story shall forever be in my steel.

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

This work of fiction is copyright © JungkookieNoona and protected under UK and international law. All rights reserved. Any unauthorised broadcasting, copying or reposting will constitute an infringement of copyright.

[kelyon]

Courtship 5: Outfit

Lacey figures out what she's going to wear on her date

Read on AO3

The pile of clothes covered Lacey’s twin bed. She’d spent the better part of an hour matching blouses with slacks with sweaters in a vain attempt to find the magic combination that would make her look less like the president of the student council and more like Mr. Gold’s perfect slut. 

Nothing worked. So far, her best options were to wear her summer sundress in the middle of winter with no coat, or to take a pair of scissors to the long black skirt she had worn to her mother’s funeral. That last one might have been an option, if she had a sewing machine like Mara. But she didn’t, and showing up at Mr. Gold’s house wearing unhemmed rags was probably as bad an idea as showing up wearing pants. If she had a sleeveless top, she might consider wearing the skirt as it was. She could try to go for a sort of hippy, Bohemian look. But the most revealing blouse Lacey French owned had puffed-up sleeves, like a fucking five-year-old. 

Groaning, she fell backwards onto the pile. Some of this stuff she had got in middle school. The fact that they still fit her had been an advantage every time she’d decided to spend her limited funds on books instead of clothes, but it also meant that Lacey had never aged up her personal style. She didn’t have anything that made her look or feel like an adult. 

The purple-blue dress shimmered in her dirty clothes hamper. She had jumped the gun by wearing her only sexy outfit on her first date with Mr. Gold. She had set the bar too high. Now he would have expectations of how Miss French liked to dress. More than that, Mr. Gold in his suits had standards. If she met him looking like a mess, he’d drive off and leave her on the curb.

At least he didn’t seem to mind if she left him looking like a mess. He hadn’t minded bringing her home with a wrinkled skirt and no stockings or underwear. She wanted that to happen again, but before it could, Lacey had to look presentable. None of her clothes were cutting it. She had to take action. 

She pulled a white button-up off the pile and rubbed a smear of foundation over her hickey. Then she went downstairs into the shop. Dad was sitting by the cash register, looking through a faded design book. 

Mom had known all the designs for bouquets and arrangements by heart, but Dad always needed to double check with the book. 

“Anything happen today?” Lacey asked.

He shook his head, didn’t look up.

“We should call up everyone who ordered from us last year and remind them that V-day is in less than three weeks.”

“They know,” he grumbled. “This time of year, no one has any money. The men at Fish King will get paid on Friday, that’s when the orders will start. But they won’t really pick up until the next payday, the eleventh.”

He was right. It happened like that every year. All the orders came in at the very last minute. Valentine’s Day weekend was two solid days of constant work getting everything put together. 

And it was too far away to do Lacey any good.   

“So I’m guessing this is not a good time to discuss the subject of me ever getting paid for the hours I put in?”

Her father looked at her like she had just told an offensive joke that wasn’t even funny. Had his eyes always been so bloodshot? Had he always looked like a sad cartoon dog?

“You keep your tips.” He looked down at the book again. “You have money when the store has money, when we’re not racking up daily fees from that bastard Gold.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Lacey rubbed her hands on her jeans. “Just thought I’d ask.”

Of course Dad didn’t have any money to give her. That was their whole problem. Game of Thorns was a family business, the only income any of them had. For as long as she’d worked in the store, her pay had come in the form of food and shelter. Her reward for helping keep the place open was that it stayed open. It might not have been unreasonable to ask for more, but she knew it was unattainable. 

“Ask again when Valentine’s is over,” Dad said. “We get out of this hole… I’ll try to make something work.”

She’d heard that before. Her father always had all kinds of plans and dreams for when things got better. Not that things ever did get better. Not that they ever would. The only thing worse than knowing that fact would be admitting it. So Lacey gave her father a tight smile and pretended she believed him, just like she always did.

****

She made her way over to Marine Automotive, where her Uncle Manny was locking the front doors from the outside. When he saw her loitering, he beamed.

“Hey! There’s my favorite niece!”

Uncle Manny looked like Dad if nothing bad had ever happened to him. He had the same height and stocky build. He had the same curly hair that was also the bane of Lacey’s existence. But where Moe French was loud when he was angry, Manny French was loud when he was happy--and he was always loud. He wrapped Lacey up in a bear hug.

“How you doing, Ace? What brings you by?”

She cut to the chase. “Are you going to the Rabbit Hole tonight?”

Her uncle wasn’t a huge drinker, but he was the only person Lacey knew who regularly went to Storybrooke's only bar.

“I wasn’t planning on it. They’re aren’t any games tonight. But I take it you need an escort?”

Lacey raised her shoulders in a half-apology. “They won’t let me in without a parent-slash-guardian.”

“Ah, to be young again!” Uncle Manny wrapped one arm around her. “You’ll miss it one of these days, I promise you. But yeah, we can have a night on the town. I’ll even buy you a Shirley Temple.”

“Oh come on,” she gave him a playful nudge. “I am an adult, even if I can’t drink. I should at least get a Coke and Coke.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

****

The Rabbit Hole was dead. Between the lack of sports on TV and the town-wide lack of money until payday, most people were staying home. The only ones here were people like Leroy Miner, people who had nowhere else to go. Like the old song said, sharing a drink they called loneliness was better than drinking alone. 

Undeterred, Lacey took her uncle-approved non-alcoholic beverage over to the pool table by the fireplace. She took off her hoodie and unbuttoned her blouse a little. This whole thing was a risky move, but it was the best plan she had. Hustling pool paid off more often than it didn’t.  

Eyeing the room, she bent over the pool table, just far enough to get a little attention. She lined up a shot and missed on purpose.

“Oh crap!” she said too loudly. “Must not be my night.”

After ten minutes of staged failure, Lacey let herself land a shot. She squealed when the ball went into the pocket. The sound made people’s heads turn, and she treated them all to a too-wide, too-apologetic smile.

Only one person smiled back. Keith Sherwood turned on his bar stool to watch her. Lacey tried to remember her other encounters with Keith. Did he usually stare more at her ass or her boobs? For safety’s sake, she did both. She leaned far enough over the table that Keith could look down her cleavage, then moved around to the other side for the next shot. She stuck her ass in the air, practically humping the felt to keep his attention.

“Boys always make it look so easy,” she pouted after another ball just barely missed the pocket.

When Keith began to walk over to her, she turned her back to him. That way she could pretend to be surprised by his arrival. With careful concentration, Lacey managed to get a ball a full foot away from what anyone watching would have assumed was her target. It was actually harder to be bad on purpose, but it paid off.

“You having fun, sweet thing?” Keith leaned against the pool table, beer in hand, right in front of her.

Lacey giggled. “It’d be more fun if I had someone to play with.”

Keith chuckled. A lock of his hair fell down into his eyes. “I bet it would be. You had a lot of fun playing with me last time, didn’t you?”

How much money had she taken from Keith the last time she had tried this? Sometimes she got cocky and her marks got mad about being taken. Lacey couldn’t remember if she had ever crowed about fleecing Keith. Unfortunately, he probably did. 

She fluttered her eyelashes. “It was a lot of fun,” she cooed. “I think I got lucky that night.”

“I bet you’re gonna get lucky again.” He was standing too close to her. “I bet your luck will get better and better all night, especially when we start playing double or nothing.”

Crap. She had definitely rubbed Keith’s face in it last time. Now he was wise to her. That was the problem with a small town. Oh well, at least she’d tried.

“So is that a bet?” she said in her real voice. “Do you wanna put money down on whether or not I’m actually hustling you? Cuz I’ll take you up on that one.”

Keith shook his head. He put his hand down on top of hers on the edge of the pool table. He was still smiling.

“You know there’s another game we can play together. It’s a lot more fun than pool.”

Ugh.

Lacey backed away. “It might be fun for you, but I don’t think I’d get much out of it.”

He followed her. “How do you know? Maybe it’d be more fun if you hustled me. That’d make things interesting, wouldn’t it? Twenty bucks says I can make you see heaven.”

She snorted. “Did you just say you’ll pay to screw me?”

Keith kept smiling. “You were gonna screw me all over this table and take my money anyway. I like my version better.”

Lacey’s blood suddenly went cold. This wasn’t funny anymore. It wasn’t a game. This asshole would seriously give her money if she went home with him. It would be so easy to go along with it. Twenty dollars for two orgasms--his would be real, hers would be fake. 

Would that be enough to buy a new skirt? Was she seriously fucking considering this?

She clenched her jaw. 

“I’m not a fucking hooker, Keith.”

He raised his arms in a pacifying gesture. “No harm, no foul,” he said. “I just don’t see how it’s any different from taking a girl to dinner first. Man pays for sex either way.”

Turning away, she slid her pool cue back on the rack. 

“You’re a pig.”

“Go ahead, darlin’, keep talking dirty. See what happens.”

Lacey kept her head held high as she went back to the bar where her uncle was nursing a beer.

“I need to get out of here,” she told him.

“Sounds good.” Uncle Manny took out his wallet and tossed a few crumpled fives onto the bar. “I’ll walk you home.”

****

 Outside, Lacey pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her hoodie and hugged her arms over her chest. This stupid button down was too frumpy to make her sexy and too thin to keep her warm. 

“Pool wasn’t any good for you tonight?” Uncle Manny asked casually.

“No,” she admitted. “Fricking Keith threw me off my game.”

“What do you need money for anyway? That dad of yours not feeding you?”

“I need money cuz I don’t have any.” Lacey kicked at a chunk of dirty snow. “Nobody does.”

“I’ve got a little, for the smartest kid in Storybrooke.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You wanna tell me what it’s for?”

Lacey bit the inside of her mouth. She didn’t want to lie to her uncle, but she sure as hell didn’t want to tell him the truth. She walked in silence for a minute. He stayed with her. Finally, she said it.

“I wanna get some new clothes.”

“Like a real coat?”

She shrugged. “I mean, maybe. I could. If I had enough.”

“And this is a sudden yearning that couldn’t wait?”

She shrugged again. There was nothing like being around a parent-slash-guardian to make her feel like a complete child.

“Ace, what’s going on?”

She took a breath. “I… don’t want to tell you.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Lacey French, if you’re doing things you don’t want people to know about, then you shouldn’t do them.”

“It’s nothing bad!” Lacey pushed him away. “It’s just… personal.”

“That’s not reassuring,” he said. “What’s going on? What do you need money for?”

“I told you, to buy clothes!”

“Clothes for what? You can tell me, Lacey. I’ll help you out if you’re honest.”

“I just want to look nice on a date!” She shrieked the words out into the night. They hung in the air with the cloud of her breath.

Uncle Manny looked at her, confused and sympathetic at the same time. Eventually, he broke out into a broad smile.

“But that’s great, honey! You should go on dates. Why-- why didn’t you say so to begin with?”

She pulled her hands up through the neck hole of her hoodie to rub her face.

“I’m… It’s because of who I’m going out with.”

Uncle Manny scoffed and put his arm around her as they walked. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of dating someone. Unless it’s someone you should be ashamed of, but then you just don’t date them. It’s not a girl, is it?”

Lacey shook her head, to which Uncle Manny nodded.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, not in this modern world. You know I’m with you no matter what.”

She nodded. 

“And of course, no boy is ever going to be good enough for you. But as long as he’s not married, or some kind of asshole like that bastard Gold, there’s no reason to sneak around like--Lacey?”

She had stopped in her tracks. She looked up at her uncle and chewed on her lower lip.

Realization dawned. Uncle Manny let out a long breath. 

“Lace.” His voice was rough. “Tell me you’re dating a married man.”

Lips pressed together, she shook her head. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Standing in place, Uncle Manny stomped his work boots onto the sidewalk. The intent seemed to be half to warm his feet and half to cool his head.

“Gold,” he whispered. He pointed in the direction of Mr. Gold’s pawn shop. “That Gold? The guy that has every working person in Storybrooke by balls? The guy who’s practically the reason all of us are living paycheck to paycheck? You’re going on dates with him?”

She shrugged. “It’s only been one date so far, but he asked me to come to his house on Friday.”

“And you said yes? What, does he have something on you? Is that why you need money?”

“No!” Lacey insisted. “I was telling the truth! I just need clothes that are good enough for him.”

“‘Good enough for him?’ He’s not good enough for you, Lacey! That man is a scourge. He’s a parasite. He’s--he’s old enough to be your father!”

“If he was my father, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I’d actually have a good life.”

“You have a good life.” Uncle Manny wasn’t angry anymore. Or if he was, his anger had become still and stern. “Your parents worked every day to give you a good life.”

“And where did it get them?” Lacey snapped. “Where did it get me? Yes, we work hard, but our only reward is getting to work even harder. And I’m so tired.” Her face was hot. God, she was sniffling. “Being with Mr. Gold feels like a break, and that’s all I want anymore. Just a freaking break.” 

Uncle Manny’s arms were around her. He pulled her against his coveralls that smelled like motor oil and sweat. He squeezed her tight and patted her back as she tried to stop crying.

“Sorry,” she sniffed when they broke apart.

“Hey,” he tilted her chin up and looked her in the eye. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

Despite her tears, Lacey laughed. It was an old joke for them. She knew what her next line had to be: “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”  

He hugged her again, kissed the top of her head. They didn’t talk until they were in front of Game of Thorns.

“I’d stay for dinner, but I’ve had Moe’s cooking before.”

She snorted at another joke she’d heard a thousand times, then she turned serious. “Um. You’re not going to tell anybody, are you?”

“About your…” he searched for the words, then shrugged, “love life?”

“Yeah. You know my dad will blow a gasket if he finds out I’m even talking to Mr. Gold, let alone--”

“Yeah, I know.” Uncle Manny cut her off. Clearly, he didn’t want to hear what she was doing with Mr. Gold.

“So, please don’t tell him? Promise?”

Her uncle sucked his teeth and slowly shook his head in silence. It took a long minute before he looked at her again.

“Okay,” he said. “You’re an adult. You know your own mind, you can make your own decisions. It’s just--be smart, okay? You are an adult, but you’re also our little girl. Me, your dad, your mom, rest her soul--we don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I promise I won’t get hurt, if you promise not to blab my business all over town.”

“Aright,” he sighed. He pulled her in for a tight hug. “I promise. Just--please, take care of yourself.”

  She squeezed her uncle, then headed for the door. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

****

Lacey spent the entire working day on Thursday psychically willing the phone to ring with orders, preferably orders that had to be filled as soon as possible. Doing a rush job would give them an excuse to charge extra. She wouldn’t wish a funeral on anyone, but wouldn’t this be a great weekend for an impromptu wedding? So many of Lacey’s problems would be solved if just one panicked bride would come in and beg them to fill Dodci’s Dance Hall with centerpieces and garlands, not to mention all the bouquets and boutonnieres and flowers for the church too. Or maybe someone important could get sick and everyone in Storybrooke would send flowers to the hospital. Wasn’t there anyone in Storybrooke who was celebrating anything? Did people not have birthdays in late January? There were so many reasons people could need flowers. But this wasn’t a day when people did.

Hustling at the Rabbit Hole wasn’t an option anymore. If this were any other occasion, she would borrow a skirt from Mara or Janine, but that didn’t seem like a possibility. They wouldn’t take the news of her going on a date with Mr. Gold any better than Uncle Manny had. Mara’s store, where she also lived, was rented from Mr. Gold, and Janine had taken out a loan to pay for her beautician supplies. Both of them--really everyone in Storybrooke--saw him as the enemy. As far as they cared to think about it, he was the reason they were poor. If Lacey told her friends how much she wanted to be around him, they would think she was crazy, or morally degenerate.

Maybe she was. 

Or maybe they were wrong. Had her friends ever eaten at Bella Notte? Had they ever worn a dress that made them feel like sex on two legs? Had they ever watched a hapless waiter get strong-armed into breaking a stupid law for them? Had they ever been inside Mr. Gold’s house? Had they ever taken clothes off just because a man had asked them to? Had they ever known the thrill of promising to do whatever another person told them to do? Had they ever known the peace of being an object, of kneeling silently at someone’s feet?

Could they even understand why that was something anyone would want? Let alone that it was something Lacey craved in a place deeper than her bones? Some dark, hidden part of her soul wanted Mr. Gold, like she had never wanted anything else. 

And not having enough money to buy a stupid fucking skirt might keep her away from him forever. She could not abide that thought.

When Friday was another dud--a few orders came in, but they wouldn’t pay until delivery--Lacey knew that she was out of options. Since Mr. Gold would be picking her up tonight at eight, she was also out of time. So she did what everyone in Storybrooke did when they had nowhere else to go.

She went to the pawn shop. 

****

Lacey had always been intrigued by the phrasing of Mr. Gold’s store. The sign said Mr. Gold Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer. Most stores advertised the goods sold inside, but Mr. Gold advertised himself. This was who he was, this was what he did. No one came to this store because they needed things, they came because they needed what only he could offer them. Usually, they needed it enough to pay whatever price he set. 

When it came down to it, Lacey really wasn’t that different from any other desperate soul who came to Mr. Gold. The only difference was what she wanted.

It was three in the afternoon. Not technically her lunch break, but it wasn’t like she was getting paid to stick around the flower shop. Lacey changed into some gray dress pants and covered her work shirt with her least-frumpy cardigan. She stuffed her purse full of old toys and oddities that might--cumulatively, optimistically--be worth about ten dollars. She yelled at Dad that she was going out for a minute and then walked over to Mr. Gold’s.

The bell rang over her head when she walked through the front door. Mr. Gold was behind the counter, writing something in a ledger. He looked up at the sound and gave the slightest grin when he saw that it was her. 

“Miss French,” he said, with just a touch of warmth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lacey bit her lip, but forced herself to stay cool. She looked around at the shelves and display cases, slowly making her way forward. Another time, she would have marveled at the art and jewelry and historic do-dads, but now she slunk past them.

“I…” she dragged out the word, unsure of what she was saying as she said it, “was wondering… if you have any clothes for sale.” 

Mr. Gold raised his eyebrows. “Clothes?”

“Yeah.” She stopped in front of a spinning rack of necklaces. She couldn’t look at him. “You know, like vintage stuff?”

He walked over to her, behind the display case. “I’ve got some historic naval uniforms, but nothing that would suit you.”

He was in front of her now, so they were separated by nothing but two feet of glass and gadgets. She didn’t raise her head. Some of these necklaces were really pretty. One gold chain with a mother-of-pearl pendant spoke to her for some reason.

“What do you need, Miss French?”

His voice was gentle, coaxing. He understood how much she hated what she was doing. He probably talked to a lot of people who were feeling what she was feeling. At least he didn’t seem to be enjoying her discomfort.

Lacey took a breath, and looked up at him.

“I need a skirt,” she admitted. “I don’t have anything to wear on our date tonight.”

He blinked. Then his face grew infinitesimally softer. 

“I see,” he said. 

“I brought some stuff.” She set her purse on the counter, began to pull out the junk she’d brought from home. “I thought I might--”

“Please,” he held up a hand. “You don’t need to do that. I’m more than happy to assist you, Miss French.” He turned away from her, went back over to his antique cash register. 

“I can pay you back…”

“Oh you will,” he grinned. He took a bill out of the cash register and set it on the counter. Lacey came closer and saw that it was a fifty. “Will this be enough?”

She fought the urge to snatch the money and run all the way to Modern Fashions. It was the same feeling she’d had when he’d given her the money to tip that stupid waiter. The thrill, the rush, of having cash and knowing she could do anything with it. Fifty dollars was more than she had spent on clothes in the past year. Fifty dollars could cover the bill at Granny’s for her whole family--or at least for Janine and Mara to have real lunches.

Fifty dollars was more than twice what Keith had offered her to have sex with him.

Lacey pulled her hands back. She dug her fingernails into her palms. 

“I… I shouldn’t accept this,” she said.  

“Why not?” Mr. Gold asked, unperturbed. “Are you worried I’ll take advantage of you? Wouldn’t you say that ship has sailed, Miss French?”

She looked down at the dirt-stained sneakers she wore for work. In a resigned whisper, she told Mr. Gold the same thing she said to Keith at the Rabbit Hole.

“I’m not a hooker.”

“Of course not.” Mr. Gold’s voice was smooth and confident. He came out from behind the counter to stand in front of her. Slowly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, subtly forcing her to look at him. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants and who will do whatever she needs to do to make it happen.”

Lacey’s breath shook. Her eyes were hot and she was trembling.

“What do you want?” he asked her. He really was being very patient. 

“I want to go on another date with you, Mr. Gold.”

“And what do you need to do in order to make that happen?”

“I need--” she stopped. I need a skirt wasn’t the right answer. Mr. Gold had asked her what she needed to do. “I need to get some money, Mr. Gold.”

“Ask me for it.” He gave the order like it was a caress. “Ask me for the money and I’ll give it to you, Miss French.”

 This wasn’t like with Keith. This wasn’t being so desperate for money that she’d have sex with a stranger. This was being so desperate for sex that she’d take money to make sure she’d get it. She’d let Mr. Gold pay her like a whore just to make sure he kept treating her like a slut. 

She swallowed. She had to swallow a few times before she was brave enough to speak.

“Please, Mr. Gold, will you give me fifty dollars so I can have something suitable to wear for our date tonight?”

“I would be happy too, Miss French.” He lowered his hand from her cheek and picked the bill up off of the counter. Gently, he took her hand by the wrist, placed the fifty on her palm, and closed her fingers over it.

He grinned at her.

“Buy yourself something pretty.”

Lacey clenched her jaw. Now he was enjoying this. She bit back words that would make him take the money back. Instead, she said what she knew he wanted her to say.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

“You’re quite welcome, Miss French.”

He turned around then, went back behind the counter. Lacey understood she was dismissed. Facing the door, she took a breath and checked to make sure none of her tears had spilled out onto her cheeks. 

Before she opened the door, Mr. Gold called over to her. 

“Miss French,” he said. “If you happen to buy a red skirt and wear nothing underneath it, I will eat your cunt for dessert tonight.”

Lacey’s eyes went wide. Her shock was less for what Mr. Gold had said and more for his nonchalant tone. He was talking about sex in the same way he would talk about running errands.

“Do you understand me, Miss French?”

What about it did he think she didn’t understand? Then Lacey realized she hadn’t answered him. Mr. Gold expected an answer when he spoke to people. 

“Yes, Mr. Gold,” she said. Shock had made her voice a little breathy. “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Gold.”

He gave her a nod. 

Dazed and excited, Lacey left his shop and made her way down the street to Modern Fashions. She had a red skirt to buy.

[legrandefungus]

Fungus writes more of his EoS AU.

After this, I might wind up posting a bit out of order. But! This is where a few things get set up! This is also where I introduce some music! It's just something I think fits the scene.

It's been a few weeks! Bidoof, expectedly, is trying to be as friendly and helpful as possible.

Yes, weeks. Looks like the timeline's going a bit slower. Thank goodness for that. I'd hate having a month, give or take, to prepare for the dark future.

Shalvy, too. Does having someone who treats him like a normal person is surprising? I guess my brand of baseline respect for all people is effective. It's too bad I have to hide so much from you.

Though... Something's concerning. I bumped into Drowzee and nothing happened. Was it because I already know about i-

"Ah! Sorry, Mr. Chatot!"

He was annoyed. First off, how casually the vulpix acted! But at the same time, the child was running himself ragged. One expedition a day? Sometimes two if they line up? The exploration notice board's been seeing a lot of use from the little one! But... that pace wasn't enthusiasm. Ennil looked horrified at the very concept of a break.

"Ack! Please watch yourself, Ennil! It would reflect badly on us if..."

I didn't hear what he said after that, I was instead thrust into something.

"You... Never trusted me?"

It was cold. Damnably cold. I could see the heartbreak all over him. What happened?

"..."

I couldn't make out the other voice. The blowing wind obscured it from me.

"But I-"

"..."

"!"

Who are you? What's going to change? I should warn Chatot, but he doesn't see me as someone to acknowledge yet. Blast, the future's already going to be screwed up, what's ne-

"ENNIL!"

"Wh-huh!?"

"Are you alright? You fell over."

"Oh, sorry! I did some training with Bidoof earlier today. I must be more tired than I thought!"

"Well, glad to see you're so enthusiastic! But don't overdo yourself, either! You have to know your limits."

If only. If something's going to change, I have to prepare as much as I can. Me reaching the end of my endurance is the baseline of where I need to be.

"Apologies, I need to do as much as I can. Then the other members won't have to worry as much!"

Preparation is key, I need to learn this desperation to survive the future.

That's a lie. He spoke very rigidly, and what kid uses the word 'apologies!?' Still, it looks like how he's acting has lined up roughly with Chatot's first impression.

"Still, you should leave some low-ranked missions for the others. And your partner's been looking exhausted lately, too!"

"A-ah, right. Sorry, Mr. Chatot."

This kid's not sorry at all! He should be taught a lesson before he hurts himself!

"No! For the rest of today and tomorrow, you're to be barred from taking any missions or going on expeditions! You can clean and help around the town in the meantime. Shalvy will be reassigned to do some expeditions with Bidoof."

For a single moment, Chatot saw it. Terror, plain and simple. Not the look of a chastised kid, or one scared of punishment, that's for sure.

"...Yes sir." Well. That puts a bit of a wrench in my plans. How annoying.

What are you running from, Ennil? If anyone, he should at least be able to tell the vice-guildmaster. Everyone's willing to help, if only he opened up.

...

Turns out, doing work for the Kecleon Brothers was pretty easy! And a bit relaxing, too. It was nice getting to let loose and actually use some of my old skills.

They kept an eye on him just a bit to start. Give the kid some simple jobs for the shop, make him happier, maybe a slight discount on their next purchase over 1000 poke too! Then the little bastard went and started doing things that were definitely not childlike.

That's another Gravelyrock. A few quick jots here and there cleared that up.

"What's the tax rate again?"

...

"I think there might be an error in the pricing here. Are you doing a markdown?"

"Oh, that's a sale we're doing! Draws in the thrifty types."

"Makes sense! Gotta have some way to get the stingy folks to make a purchase."

...

"Hey, you think we could hire this one in the future?"

"He's strange, that's for sure."

Strange was an understatement. He was already on par with some of the newer Kecleons in the business, and it still looked like he was holding something back.

Still, the brothers were quite happy to have him working for the day. Most ADULT pokemon would have gotten a headache by noon with all the numbers floating around. The vulpix hardly complained and stayed even to the closing times.

"Say, Ennil. What might be your thoughts on working with us?"

"Oh! I could do some work from ti-"

"Genuine thoughts, please. You're good, but we can smell a performance from a mile away."

"..."

"Blight, am I really that obvious?"

"Pfft-!"

The whiplash going from hopeful, somewhat happy kid to the tone of someone who tripped and lost newly bought reviver seeds proved too much for the younger brother, who burst into laughter.

"Keheh! No, we're just good at sniffing out con artists and folks putting on a show. Too many of them try to get discounts for some reason or another."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Children also aren't supposed to know about the concept of a tax well. Especially not the one involved with merchants."

"...Right. Forgot about that."

"So, thoughts?"

"I'd have to ask Chatot, but that sounds good."

"Khhheeh... Ahem, sorry, sorry! Please do! It's wonderful to have someone who knows enough to keep up."

"Oh, and before you go..."

They kept an eye on him a bit earlier, too. So, a bit of an investment now might mean a much bigger payoff later!

"WHA-AKC-"

I'm a bit glad my voice brought me into a coughing fit. A lot more talking today than I was used to. Definitely terrified that they knew I was wanting a stronger fire move. But Flamethrower? That might just be what I'll be needing.

...

"I force you to take a break, and you find a way to do more work."

"..."

"I already heard it from them earlier in the day. The two were very enthusiastic about your help. Just-" Chatot sighs. By Arceus, this kid's going to make him retire early. "We'll figure something out. Klefki should almost be done with dinner."

"Alright!"

Strange Journal, page 2.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙/𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐴 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑤𝑠, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒.

𝑆𝑜, 𝐼'𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑆𝑘𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒-𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑜 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚! ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑛. 𝐴𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑. 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑍𝐼 𝑜𝑟 𝐷𝑇. 𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙, 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑓-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛, 100% 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒; 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 170%. 𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑠. 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ. 𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓𝑓.

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑣𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡-𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑖𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦-ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑑𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑜𝑛-𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑟. 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑠.

[prickly-bulbasaur]

Atem's Last Adventure

Yugi was nervous, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart knowing that his spiritual friend Atem, who had been with him for several years, would have to leave now that Zorc Monster was defeated and return to the Shadow Realm.

Yugi, for the hundredth time, stop overthinking. It is hard enough for me to say goodbye soon when you flood me with your thoughts and emotions.

“S-Sorry. You and I have been together for years ever since I solved the Millennium Puzzle and I see you as a big brother of sorts. Hard to say goodbye to someone who is like family.”

A big brother? Atem chuckled as he gave it some thought. I guess that fits considering all the trouble you and our friends seem to get into.

“Hey! A good portion of it was because of your reincarnated enemies!” Yugi yelled back, huffing as he put on the choker. “Luckily, now that you have your memories you remembered a spell that lets others see you for 24 hours.” Yugi chuckled lowly, causing Atem to sweat nervously as his host blocked his ‘thoughts’. “You know Teia will be using that to her fullest.”

Atem chuckled nervously, aware that she was a plan demon and would create an entire itinerary in one day.

—

“You two are late!” Teia yelled, glaring at Yugi and Atem while Joey and Tristan snickered behind her, pointing at the duo. Yugi apologized profusely while Atem just gave an eye twitch of annoyance. “What took you so long?!”

“We happened to run into Kaiba and Mokuba on the way here,” Yugi said, removing his shoes before sitting on the picnic blanket. “He was saying goodbye to Atem in his own…unique way.”

Joey snorted and laughed. “If you mean giving a long-winded speech about losing one of his rivals and having a slight ego trip, then yeah, then that sounds like Kaiba all right! Always complicates things.” 

“True but in a way it is refreshing. The Seto I knew had the same persona, and he was a dear friend to me. He may be crass, but Seto has a pure heart.” Atem replied and sat next to Yugi before being handed the sandwiches and drink. “So after this what do we have planned?”

Teia smiled. “Well, after this we will go to the amusement park, then shopping though I know it will be pointless since you won’t be able to take the items home, but there are a few outfits on sale I need to get, then the movies will be after this followed by dinner…” She continued to  list everything in her planner, again causing Yugi and Atem to sweat nervously, and Joey and Tristan fell asleep within a minute of her monologue. “Then we can take an hour to two break before the night festivities in Kyoto before watching the sunrise at the Shrine!”

“Teia, we are supposed to give Atem a fun time not run him ragged,” Joey replied after waking up. “Besides, there are things we want to do with him, it wouldn’t be fair if we just use your list. I mean, I want to show him one of the best eating joints where I haven’t even shown Yugi yet.”

“Joey’s right, we should be mindful of others' choices, including Atem’s. After all, he will have to leave in a few days.” 

The mood suddenly changed to something somber, their hearts aching at the thought of their friend leaving. They may not have known Atem as long as Yugi, but they have had so many adventures together that he was one of them.

Joey suddenly chuckled, remembering the day they officially met Yugi’s Alter Ego. “Remember the first time we met?”

Tristen snapped his fingers at the memory. “That’s right! We’d been trapped in our favorite cards by Yami Bakura and that was when we got introduced to Atem, or at that time Yugi’s Alter Ego.” Everyone chuckled at the remembrance.

“Yeah, a complete surprise to us all. Talk about a difference in personalities, and height! Itte!” Joey hissed in pain as Yugi slapped him in the back of his head, huffing at the height jab. He glared at Yugi before grabbing him in a light choke hold, bringing him close, and noogied his head. “You are the runt of the group, Yugi, even Yami/Atem here is a few inches taller!”

Everyone laughed as Yugi struggled to get free from Joey’s grasp before finally being released, huffing and glaring at the offender before laughing himself. “Yeah, it was definitely a weird experience, and feeling the magic of the cards was interesting. Atem protected us as much as possible too when our lives were put in a dangerous situation.”

“Don’t remind me,” Joey shuddered as he remembered almost disappearing from life and the Shadow Realm. “I was seconds away from that Reaper taking my soul. Monster Reborn was the Ace I didn’t know I needed.”

“Too bad it didn’t help improve your intelligence.” Tristen snickered, before leaning back as Joey went bighead.

“HEY!!”

Everyone laughed again at the interaction, and Atem was smiling at the familial rivalry the duo had, again reminding him of the rivalry between him and his cousin Seto a millennia ago. They battled constantly to improve their abilities to summon monsters, rivals even to this era.

“You know,” Atem sighed, getting the attention of his friends. “This has been an amazing adventure. From meeting Yugi and helping with not-so-normal duels, getting to know everyone and rediscovering my name, to saving the world from a millennia-sealed monster, I can’t think of anything more fun than dealing with challenges alongside my friends.”

“Hell yeah!” Joey agreed. “It beats a normal life any day!”

“Well, it beats my old life that's for sure.” Yugi looked down as he remembered the bullying in middle school. “I never had any friends until I solved the puzzle. You gave me the courage to stand up for what I believe in. I am blessed to have the friends that I have now and will have in the future.” 

Atem’s lips slightly wobbled as an emotion tried to escape him before putting a hand on Yugi’s shoulder. “Well, now you have friends to continue your adventure. Mine will be in another Realm, but no matter what I will always have you all in my heart.”

Everyone hugged Atem, nearly crushing his ribcage from their monster strength. “I-I don’t think I want to enter the Realm this way, guys…”

Again everyone laughed before Teia looked at her watch and squeaked, yelling at them to finish and pack up before the movie started. She may not have been using all of her itinerary, but she was not going to let him miss the movie, no matter what.

[gotatext]

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐲  ;    ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜᴜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ #6 !

how are you feeling about movie night ? did anything surprise you ? 

“ man, movie night was kinda fucked. obviously my clips weren’t great, but… they were all pretty old. like none of that shit i said stills stands. ”  apart from the comment about charlene being fit as fuck. obviously that still stands, but you can window shop without wanting to shoplift the store.  “ callie choosing frankie’s video was like a red rag to a bull for angel, i know that much. but he’ll forgive her, he’s just being petty about it. ”  part of jude feels like angel needed to argue with his girl for a bit, stop making the rest of them look bad. also, he doesn’t really trust couples who say they never fight. what the fuck do those conflict-less couples even do ? cherish each other and shit ?  “ for me it was more the shit that came after that surprised me. jenny asked me to be exclusive, which i wasn’t expecting, and while i want it, it just didn’t feel like the right time. we’ve had so much drama this week, i think maybe if that just calms down, then we’ll be golden. ”  and also, his fingers were literally inside her. not exactly a story they can tell the grandkids.

what are your thoughts on romi and marcus’s decision to leave ? 

“ romi is obviously someone i was very close to, and then suddenly not close to at all, and then after the double date… in some weird kinda in-between friendship thing with. ”  jude notes, struggling to outline the complexities of their warped relationship.  “ them leaving is sad, but it’s the right choice for her. marcus seemed like a solid dude. for sure i’d like to get to know him better on the outside. ”  he’s pretty sure there’ll be no shortage of club promos and big nights on the down in manny or the big smoke. maybe they’ll even make it over to dublin, air bnb it for the night, take a trip around miles’ gaff. feels weird that he’s got this whole new friendship group now spread out all over the place like the british empire in 1919 or some shit.  “ they’re definitely gonna be missed, nobody’s arguing with that. ”

are you happy in your couple or do you think your head could be turned ?

“ i’m basically fully focused on jen. i don’t really see that changing, if i’m honest. like yeah, obviously i have good chats with charlene, or adela feels like someone who i could fuck about with and have a really fun time, but since coupling up with jenny i kinda feel over all that. i do genuinely like the girl a lot. i’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, chick lives halfway across the planet but love who you love and figure the rest out. ”  shit. freudian slip.  “ i mean like who you like. whatever, it’s not…” flushed, jude buries his face in his hands.  “ fuck this shit. this is bullshit. i said like. ”

what are your thoughts on santiago and victoria ? are either of them your type ? do you think your partner would be interested in them ?

“ nah, bro. the two of them coming in now just spells drama. D-E-R-A-M-A, bruv. i’m not getting involved. ”  maybe he would have given victoria a look-in if she hadn’t snogged jenny right in front of him, but even then she feels like a poundland version of the bird he’s already got. “ santiago’s got some cheek coming in here all photography-guy and shit. that role’s already taken, man ! jog on back to cyprus ! ” or wherever he’s from. jude doesn’t even care. he’s totally not threatened by it at all.

are you grafting right now ? if so, who is at the top of your list ?

“ not really, no. ”  jude purses his lips for a second. “ i mean i guess it depends how this week goes. i kinda told jenny i want her to prove she can be loyal to me and shit before we try any of the locked-in bullshit that seems to be pumping it’s way around the villa like a virus, but i dunno. i’ll probably cave before a week’s up, if i’m honest. i don’t really want her having an excuse to cop off with the fit new seven-foot cypriot, you know ?  it’s just fun to keep her on her toes. ”

[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening Chapter 14: Chorrol County Cruise

Swag is a man who loves his shopping.

@cardwrecks

?~?~?~?~?

To the west, and green. To the west and green. Starlight, dyed red, a luminescence hovering in his hands. A caged lizard in a ruined cave. A field watered with blood. Layers of paint obscuring the face of a loved one.

“Challenge.” a feminine voice, everywhere at once, inside. “You bring it on yourself.”

A shadow under the great oak outside the mages guild. Lightning striking a mountaintop. The path rolled out in rays like-

“Starlight...” he mumbled.

“Hm?” Helix mumbled back, not really awake, but merely responding to his voice.

“Nothin' babe. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Sometime later, he dragged himself out of bed, realizing she'd gotten up earlier than him. There was a basin of warm water and their soap in one corner of the room, waiting for him, a plate of fruit and what looked like a medieval muffin. There was also a full change of clothes. Swag held up the new garments-black with a very decorative silvery trim. Looked like they'd fit, though the trousers might be a bit short. It wouldn't matter if he tucked the hems into his boots. But would that look good? And where had these come from? He couldn't imagine they'd just been left lying around; they looked to be very high quality, like that incredible linen that had been wiped out of history by industrialization.

It did fit well, a little padded at the shoulders, but nothing blocky, and surprisingly breathable and flexible. And yes, the hems were a bit short, but not as noticeably as he'd predicted. He ate, got his hair at least partially tamed, and went in search of Helix.

She was just outside the bedroom, heating one of her alchemical mixtures in what he could only describe as a 'contraption', an elaborate alembic setup dripping hydrosol into a potpourri of salts and ash.

She had also come by a new set of clothing, a confection of green velvet and silk patterned like the leaves of the oak outside. In fact, it was quite similar to the getup Earana had been sporting, but Helix, in his opinion, wore it so much better.

God, that color looked so good on her.

He caught her staring back, and he knew that look. He held his hands up in front of him.

“Hey, I just got these on.” he joked, and she grinned.

“I've got to keep an eye on this anyway.” she said. “Maybe later.”

“Whattaya mean 'maybe'? I see you lookin'. Where'd these come from, anyway?”

“Oh, Anthragar thought we looked a bit ragged, I reckon. He pressed these on me as soon as I went upstairs. Might be custom, or might be he worried we'd make the guild look un-posh or some such. Our other clothes are off for a proper cleaning.”

“Better not damage them. That's my favorite vest.”

“You've got seven more just like it back home.”

“What can I say? I like to be on brand. And it's the only one I have here!”

“It'll be fine. Got any plans for the day?”

Figured I'd go visit the smith. Guy in Bruma recommended her for making a set of gauntlets. Prolly oughta sell off what we got that wasn't already coins.”

Oh right. Here.” She began to remove her ring.

“Uh...you know what? Keep hold of that. Might come in handy later. And I'll see if there isn't anything going on around town, any odd jobs or whatever. I'll keep myself occupied, don't worry. And I won't end up in jail again, so don't worry about that either.”

Because he knew she would.

He left the guild and had to dodge around the back to avoid being spotted by Earana, who was stalking around the great oak like a hunting animal.

The slums of Chorrol were...actually pretty nice from his perspective, basically the opposite of what they'd be in Gotham. Small, single story timber buildings, with space between them, and not a one condemned or falling down. Bright green grass everywhere, and fresh air.

Swag didn't know how much longer he could survive without microdosing on minerals with every breath. And the water not tasting of metal, surely that wasn't how nature had meant it. Where would he get his daily cadmium?

The street, still scrupulously clean, even here, curled around another large cathedral, which he walked straight past, and back into the main thoroughfare. A large statue dominated this end of town, a woman holding a fallen soldier in her arms. Close by, a cute little Rennfaire styled sign declared 'Northern Goods and Trade', a place he definitely wanted to check out.

Inside was another lizard in a dress. An actual dress this time, not a mage robe. Perhaps it could be assumed this one was female, the dress, the smaller size, and the somewhat higher pitched-though still rough-voice might lead to that conclusion. But otherwise, it wasn't that easy to tell. He couldn't help but wonder about the evolutionary story there, unless what Helix had told him was correct, and there was no evolution here.

She introduced herself as Seed-Neeus, because that was just how Argonian names were, apparently. She was also a shrewd businesslizard, and Swags haggling over the mediocre potions didn't go at all as well as he'd planned. He did get a good price for the pearl, the bronze ring, and the green gems-tourmalines, she informed him-though he kept one back for himself. The silver just went by weight, but it was worth quite a bit, and he chatted with her about local affairs, and the rest of Cyrodiil. He was from so very far away after all.

He got the feeling she was not impressed with his attempted compliments on her weird head fin things, but he was trying. He had no way to tell how old she was; maybe she'd just heard it all before. Or maybe he just wasn't her type, which, like, yeah.

But she did mention that a fellow named Guilbert Jemane had gotten some disturbing news, and was acting more erratic and drunken than usual, that there was some kind of trouble brewing on a farmstead just outside of town, and that there had been a large flush of newcomers to the city recently, including a small group from the nearby Weynon Priory; humble monks that were usually so self sufficient that they rarely ever visited.

He headed across the street towards the Fire and Steel, passing by a man arguing loudly with a gate guard that he'd never even been to Cheydinhal, but he was thinking of going just so he could lay a beatdown on some guy who was pretending to be him.

Inside the smiths shop, his eyes were first caught by a huge, olive green woman with short, spiky hair. She had large tusks and small eyes, but she barely looked at him. That must be an orc. Huh, not too bad. She was engaged in conversation with a jovial, dark skinned woman and an elf who was sporting the most gorgeous set of crystalline green armor.

Swag was instantly smitten. Where could he get a set of that? He would look like a god.

Imagine rocking up to the mages guild in that.

“Welcome!” the smith called to him after the orc and elf, an adventuring pair, had left. “Welcome to the Fire and Steel! You're new in town too, aren't you? Well met! I'm Rasheda. Is there anything I can interest you in? At all?”

Her eyes swept up his form in approval. Swag grinned.

“Maybe, maybe. First of all, that green armor the elf fellow was wearing; was that yours?”

“The glass armor? No, I didn't make that. No one can make that. He found it in a ruin somewhere.”

“Glass?”

Rasheda laughed.

“Sounds bad, doesn't it? It's not actually made of glass, its some magical alloy the Ayleids came up with thousands of years ago. It just looks like glass. Tough as steel though, and less than half the weight! Imagine if we could someday figure it out! But for now, the only way to get any is to find it in one of the Ayleids ruins, or to get it off of someone else who did. If you do, bring it back here, I can make sure it fits you right. Remarkable stuff, it can be formed like steel too, reshaped for a better fit.”

“Only in the ruins, huh? Pretty rare then.”

“Yeah, but I see more of it than you might think. We get adventurers in pretty regularly, due to all the ruins in the Great Forest outside of town. The Ayleids were populous here, and there are quite a few mines and caves, and remnants from the Alessian Empire too. There's a lot out there to be reclaimed.”

“Any to the North of here?” Earana had said that the book she wanted was located in an Ayleid ruin.

“Yes, a few. And there's Sancre Tor as well. Huge place, three ruined towers. Most of the wall has fallen down, but I here its not uncommon for people to just disappear around there.”

“Uh...I might have seen it, yeah. Creepy place.”

“Well, that's the best I can give you when it comes to glass. Is there anything else?”

She was looking again, unabashed interest in her dark eyes.

“Yeah, actually. Two things. What would you recommend for someone who's never worn armor before? And also, the smith in Bruma recommended you for a pair of custom gauntlets. Was he on the level?”

“Bruma? Wait, you mean Fjotreid? He remembers me?”

“Had nothing but praise for your work. Said you could make a pair of gauntlets so fine, they might as well be my own skin. Sure like to see that.”

“He said that?” her huge smile flashed white, even as her cheeks darkened with flattered pleasure. “What a sweetheart! And he's not wrong, either. I can do that. Let me see your hands.”

He held them out, and she flipped them over, spread the fingers out, commenting cheekily about their length and shape.

“You seem like the sort who likes to be light on your feet.” she said, lapsing away from flirtatiousness and into the more serious part of her job. “Reinforced leather jerkin, something in the Khajiti style maybe. Quiet. Flexible. Blued steel for the gauntlets; you'd want a solid strike for those. Not the mitten type, I'm assuming, more like the elven glove type, right?”

“Sounds right.”

“I have some leather already mostly put together, I could get some measurements and alter something for you right now. The gauntlets have to be bespoke though. Everybody's hands are different, and most pugilists' aren't as graceful as yours.”

She quoted him two prices, the armor quite reasonable, but the gauntlets quite a bit outside his current price range. It made sense; all the little pieces, specially treated, carefully fitted.

He agreed to have measurements taken for the armor, and the frisky attitude returned, her hands lingering longer than strictly necessary, a little bit of shared innuendo.

“You know, I have a lot of free time today. Anything I can do around the place to maybe shave a few coins off those gauntlets?” he suggested.

Rasheda grinned wide.

“Well...” she drawled.

Then she locked the door.

Swag laughed.

?~?~?~?~?

[blackenchanting]

Welcome to ravens borough episode 8

Somewhere in the unheard of town of Raven's Borough…

The contents of this story are nsfw therefore not for children

Ameila's hand landed on the counter of her empty bar as she shook her hips and sang to herself "🎶I'm only happy when I'm on the run.. I break a million hearts just for fu uh uh un.. I don't belong to anyyyy..one🎶" she took her red rag over the counter cleaning it and making it shine

"🎶I guess you could say that my life's a mess🎶" she sang doing a twirl

"🎶But I'm still looking pretty in this dre eh eh ss🎶"

'ring ring' the rotary phone rang beside her.

"Dammit I thought I changed the line." Ameila said.

"You did. That's not me. Probably Ava checking in on you." Rob said, walking over to the bar.

"Can't be never told her the new number." Ameila said picking up the phone "Thank you for calling the hearts of steel blah blah your one stop shop for all the paranormal and unexplainable shenanigans. This is Ameila speaking." She said into the phone.

"Then I have no idea. I guess I'll just tell her whatever pertinent information she needs to hear." Rob said.

She looked into the phone a little confused as she pulled it away all that could be heard was a creepy buzzer noise that repeated over and over.

"...interesting" she said.

"Concerning more like." Rob said

"Sounds like morse but I don't have that on me sooo.." Ameila said, slamming the phone down without a care.

"Well that's definitely interesting. But we'll worry about that later. So how ya been jailbird?" Rob said with a warm smile.

"You and your damn nicknames you and Katelyn are perfect for each other." Ameila said.

"Heh, I'd politely disagree. I just call you that cause it's just been that for quite some time." Rob said.

"One day you're the jailbird. Then you call yourself the full metal alchemist.. now you're the queen bee" Ameila said tapping her fingers on the counter to the beat of the music.

"Jailbird and full metal alchemist fit you the best. Drink mixing is basically a type of alchemy." Rob said.

"I know that's why I gave it to myself." Ameila said, reaching under the counter and pulling out the drink mixer.

"Anyway, back to the question. How're things?" Rob said.

"Well." Ameila said, sliding over a glass.

"I took Ava on a field trip the other day to see the property my parents left for me over in Ravenclaw." she said, grabbing mixers off the wall.

"It's a three bedroom two bathroom house, up on six twenty eight darkwatterton road." she added.

"Ooh, sounds like you got plans for that property." Rob said.

"The property needs a lot of work done to it. After Lucinda died Nana kinda let the place go." Ameila said, grabbing the photo off the shelf behind her which depicted her mom's standing In front of a beautiful white house and sat it down in front of him.

"Yeah that definitely doesn't sound great. If you need help with it, or anything really, you can count on me. And Eva too of course." Rob said.

"Ava wants kids. She's always wanted kids and I don't really wanna deny the woman kids. considering I would also like to have at least one child in life so the bloodline doesn't end with me. So I think that house is the best option" Ameila said

"Yeah, that's understandable. This place, despite the slogan, isn't exactly too family friendly as of late." Rob said.

"One point five oz. CÎROC Passion. she said pouring some in one oz. … hmm point seventy five oz Hibiscus syrup seventy five oz Lemon juice. And topped off with..." Ameila said, finishing his drink and sliding it towards him.

"One the house but No place is truly family friendly" Ameila said.

"True. True. Might have to actually see about a place in raven's claw when Eva and I are ready to properly settle down and start a family." Rob said.

"Don't know about that one Ravens claw is worse than a Ravens borough especially after the events at starlight high and Starlight university." Ameila said

"Good point. Though this place ain't great either. Weird fog, whatever that fuckin buzzer was a minute ago, the amount of criminals." Rob said.

"At least no one goes around saying the schools were attacked by quote on quote mechanical aliens from another planet." Ameila said.

"Good point. Though Raven's Claw has that steakhouse

"Which is now it's number one attraction it's got the weird gas station called the twin point gas the ranger station up in the mountains.. anything else?" Ameila thought.

"I know because it mysteriously caught on fire and was destroyed asides from a few pieces which they bulldozed back in twenty fifteen." Ameila said.

"It is a good idea. Though, I'm sure you could come up with even better. You always did have great ideas growing up." Rob said.

"Alright ass kisser, I already told you the drink was on the house." Ameila said.

"Not exactly why I said that. I mean it." Rob said sipping his drink.

"Then you don't truly remember our childhood because ninety percent of my 'ideas' ended horribly with someone getting hurt or breaking a bone." Amelia said.

"Ah. But that last ten percent, the ones that worked out, were great. Not to mention you got this place, which is a great idea. The fact that you're here about eighty percent of the time is definitely not great but who am I to judge. My office and home are like twenty feet a part." Rob said

"Mate.. I bought the hearts of steel for shits and giggles. And if you knew how much I bought this place for you'd have a heart attack in your stool. Because I could have put that money into a savings account and retired really early." Ameila said.

"Fair. Still, it's a nice enough place." Rob said.

"It's a nice place. You haven't even gone downstairs yet. But it's a very nice place, definitely not worth what I paid for it though." Ameila said.

"Probably not." Rob said.

"Yup." Ameila said as the phone rang again.

"Should definitely just remove the phone entirely." Amelia said

"I don't even know why you have a phone older than this building." Rob said, taking a sip from his drink.

"It's a long story but.. I told you before that it was owned by a crime boss. Well that was back in the forties. Before it was passed to his only daughter Mary Kurr, under the name the enchanted seductress; she owned it for about eighty years after that and it was passed down through the family going by a few different names.. until nineteen ninty. Where it was gutted and renovated with a second floor added under it. And the neon look of the eighties re named to the empire of crime. It stayed that way till it was dubbed the hearts of steel by Markus kurr and I bought it. Which leads us till now. In conclusion that's why there's a rotary phone next to me

" Amelia said, gesturing to it.

"All that to simply say the building is old as fuck. No wonder we're friends." Rob said with a smile.

"It's also just because it's more Interesting to know the lore behind the bar. Then to just tell you the bar is around seventy years old and the phone is like sixty." Ameila explained.

"The fact that you have a phone that old is odd, but you've seen my car so I can't judge." Rob said.

"Look buddy it looks cool alright sure it may clash with the whole eighties neon aesthetic but it looks cool dammit." Ameila said, gesturing to it.

"That's exactly what I needed to hear. All that matters is that you like it and you don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Rob said.

"Plus from my understanding it's made from a one hundred year old redwood tree. So like.. sue me for thinking it's irreplaceable." Ameila said.

"It definitely is unique." Rob said.

"Damn straight" Ameila said

"Anyway, what the hell are you doing at this bar at four am alone?" She added

"Couldn't sleep again. Wanted to check on you." Rob said.

"We both know that last one is a lie." Ameila said.

"It's really not. I've been thinking about you lately and worried about you." Rob said.

"I went to prison. I think I can protect myself." Ameila said

"Not exactly what I meant. You might be able to handle problems yourself but I meant more mental stuff. You don't need to shut others out." Rob said.

"What are you on about now?" Ameila said

"I'm just saying you don't just have to always lean on Ava for support. I'm here for you. And Eva too." Rob said as Ameila raised her eyebrow.

"I just wanna close this distance that's been between us alright." Rob admitted.

"Ah��� Rob, it's not that simple." Ameila said

"Do tell." Rob said.

"It's.. not something I can just explain to you because there are things you won't understand because you're not me.. you haven't been through what I've been through.. you haven't seen what I've seen. What I saw.. what I went through before I came back.. changed me" Ameila said.

"I see. Well, that's kinda what I figured. And why I keep pestering you from time to time. Just want to reinforce that we're here for you, whatever you need. Always." Rob said.

"I will be fine." Ameila said as the phone rang again.

".. excuse me for a second." Ameila said picking it up.

"This should be interesting." Rob said. As Ameila picked up the phone

"Thank you for calling the hearts of steel your one stop shop for all the paranormal and unexplainable shenanigans. This is Ameila speaking." She said into the phone as the neon lights flashed around her

"🎶When the sun goes down and the lights burn out. Then it's time for you to shine.. brighter than a shooting star…. So shine no matter where you are. Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light because it's time for you to shine brighter than a shooting star.. so shine no matter where you are 🎶" a voice sang from the speakers blocking out her voice.

"What in the hell?" Rob said, sipping his drink.

"Enjoying your jailbirds nuisance?" Ameila said coming back over.

"It's interesting to say the least." Rob said.

"🎶A thousand heartbeats beating time, and makes this dark planet come alive. So when the lights flicker out tonight.. you gotta shine 🎶" the song sang over the speaker as bright neon lights filled the room.

"I'm either gonna go blind.. or I'ma know every single song in this bar by age thirty. Neither of which are good." Ameila said as the lights flickered above them.

"Huh.. that's new" she said.

"Pretty sure we're haunted." Rob said.

"Can't be while fights and shootouts have happened in this bar no one ever actually died.. I'ma go check the breaker." Ameila said walking off.

"Fair enough." Rob said, taking a sip from his drink as he heard an all too familiar whistle.

"Oh good." Rob said.

"γεια γεια" a female voice said

"What?" Rob said.

"I said hello hello" the voice said

"Hello." Rob said, looking around. He saw the fabled white haired assistant mayor chilling in a booth at the back of the bar.

"Oh hey Athena, what're you doing here?" Rob asked.

"I just wanted to scare you into thinking I was Samera, we both know you based her off me." Athena said.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Rob asked, confused.

"Death.." Athena said

"And I don't mean it metaphorically or rhetorically." she said with a massive eye roll.

"or poetically or theoretically.. I am legitimately death." she said.

"Well alright then." Rob said immediately going back to looking at the bar.

"Yeah you ain't escaping that easily." Athena said walking around the front of the bar

"I told you we'd meet again and we'll here I am" she said.

"Oh good." Rob said.

"Wow not even a nice to see you again. I see how it is" Athena said

"Well I'm freaked out right now. Cause I have no idea what the hell you're on about." Rob said.

"Think back to your days in Archdale." Athena said grabbing a drink from the back of the bar

"Ah a hallucination. The fuck is in this drink, that shouldn't happen." Rob said.

"Hah hallucination.. funny guy right here." Athena said.

"Well that's the only explanation I got about you knowing things about a dream I hate while drunk on a plane." Rob said.

"I'm the devil, I know everything." Athena said as the bar's power went out leaving only her glowing red eyes.

"What do you want?" Rob asked.

"To remind you that there is nowhere you can hide that I won't find" Athena said pouring him another glass.

"Right." Rob said.

With a clack the lights came back on as she was gone. But his drink was full.

"What." Rob said as Ameila came back out now that the lights had stopped flickering.

"See told you it was the braker this bar isn't haunted." she said.

"Yeah, old building I guess, wiring might need checking." Rob said.

"Wiring hasn't been touched since the ninety's when they overhauled it so I wouldn't be surprised." Amelia said.

"Exactly." Rob said.

"However that'd cost a lot of money around about four, five grand so I'ma just let it go till I absolutely need to." Amelia said.

"Makes sense." Rob said.

"Yep." Amelia said

"Had an idea. Automatic, mobile, bartender." Rob said.

"Huh I think my uncle had one of them. He called it the automatic mobility bar or something like that. However I enjoy making drinks" Ameila said

"What about a robot chef?" Rob said.

"Actually I have one of them in the kitchen, it is one of the only OKS products I have." Amelia sai

"Interesting." Rob said

"I was gonna buy one of them giant replicas of myself for nefarious purposes but I could never save up the scratch" Amelia said with a sigh

"Of course you did." Rob said.

"Yep…" Amelia said

"Robo you. That's a thought." Rob said.

"Not really a thought because they existed at one point." Ameila said

"True, if you had one you could have her run the bar when you're not here and have more time off." Rob said.

"But I like running the bar" Ameila said

"Yeah I know. But, at the same time you'd be able to take days off, and have it be 24 hours." Rob said.

"Not really robo me was limited to what she could do. She was better at lifting then making drinks and cooking" Ameila said

"Fair enough." Rob said.

"Uhuh though I'd custom order it to have a pussy and an ass for.. nefarious reasons" Ameila said

"You'd wanna fuck yourself huh? Yeah, Eva would probably want to do the same with a clone of herself too. Which would be fun." Rob said.

"Among other things" Ameila said

"Though I'd probably get tired of hearing the preset telemarketer voice lines after a month." Ameila added

"Fair." Rob said.

"Thank you for contacting okami kinetic solutions we are currently unavailable. please try again later" Ameila said in a derpy voice

"Yeah, that'd get annoying quickly." Rob said.

"Actually I think the twin point gas and go is run by them I could be wrong though" Ameila said

"Interesting." Rob said.

"Daaaamn now you got me missing my other half" Ameila said placing a picture of Ava next to her on the counter as she glanced at the phone

"Well it is getting to the point where we both should get home." Rob said.

"Yeah probably." Ameila said

"Then it's probably best we head out." Rob said.

"I think i'll stay a little longer just Incase." Ameila said

"Alright then, I'll see you later. Stay safe. Actually…" Rob said standing up.

"Hmmm?" Ameila said turning away from the phone

"Gimme a hug." Rob said.

"A.. Hug?" Ameila asked clearly forgetting those existed

"A hug!" Rob said moving around the bar and wrapping his arms around her.

"You clearly needed one." Rob said.

"Thank you." Ameila said waving him off

"Does Ava not hug you?" Rob asked, letting go.

"Of course" Ameila said

"Just from behind" Ameila said with a grin

"Eva does that too. Though usually in bed. With all her limbs around me." Rob said.

"Anyway you should probably get back" Ameila said.

"Yeah, I should. I'll see you later. It's good to be able to talk with you again." Rob said.

"Yeah." Ameila said waving him off

"So dismissive." Rob said.

"Come on scatt." Ameila said with a laugh

[stiltonbasket]

remember in a-yu's time traveling fic where lwj thought sizhui was a wangxian cultivation baby? what about an au where he IS wangxian cultivation baby?

When he fell into the Burial Mounds, Wei Wuxian hadn't known there would be a child.

He was all of eighteen, coreless and grieving and more dead than alive. There was barely enough strength left in him to bind his body and spirit together, let alone furnish a second soul with the energy it needed to manifest a body of its own—but he lived, and when he staggered out of Yiling three months later, he had a week-old baby tucked under his arm.

“It’s lucky that you don’t need to eat,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself, after he broke into a tailor’s shop and relieved its half-empty storeroom of anything that might fit him. “What do you think, A-Yuan? Do you want to wear something cheerful, or should I just dress you in black?”

The baby lay quietly against his chest, moving his small lips as if he wanted to speak, so Wei Wuxian took it as agreement and chose black clothes with red trimmings for both A-Yuan and himself. His thieving done, he threw away the clothes he brought from the Burial Mounds and seized a few blankets for A-Yuan; and after that, he took some fresh milk and fruit from a local temple and tried to feed his son with it.

“Good baobao, my good baby,” he praised, dashing tears from his eyes as A-Yuan drank the milk a little at a time, sucking weakly at a clean rag dipped into the milk bowl until the bowl was empty. “I don’t know how we made it all this time without milk for you, but it’s good that we have some now.“

He wolfed down the fruit after A-Yuan refused to try nibbling at it, which Wei Wuxian should have foreseen—after all, the baby was so little that he didn’t have any teeth yet—but at long last, Wei Wuxian was no longer hungry, and A-Yuan had a little pink in his cheeks for the first time in the eight days since his birth.

“Now for Wen Chao,” he sighed, strapping A-Yuan to his back in a sling before rushing out into the night.

Wei Wuxian did not find Wen Chao for another three weeks, during which both he and A-Yuan grew stronger day by day. A-Yuan ate everything and thrived on it, as long as Wei Wuxian ground up his food and mixed it with milk or water first, and Wei Wuxian no longer had to eat or sleep at all. He stopped growing thinner, as long as he managed a meager meal every other day or so, and his command of resentful energy sharpened every time he used it. Now, Chenqing could bring corpses to do his bidding from over ten miles away, and Wei Wuxian could manipulate them so well that he required no more than seven minutes to dispatch a hundred cultivators.

"I shouldn't be killing in front of you," he frowns, after one battle leaves him and A-Yuan covered in a layer of blood. "You're just a baby, and all I did was blindfold you and put clay in your ears. You must have heard something, right?"

The baby squeals and licks at the blood on Wei Wuxian's cheek. He seems happy, warm and satisfied and thoroughly unbothered by his sudden bloodbath, and the sight of his little red smile smites Wei Wuxian so deeply that he goes to his knees and cries all over his son's head.

"I'll be better. I'll get better, I promise," he sobs. "I'll give you all the milk you can drink and clothes made just for you, and after we take back Yunmeng, I'll build you a crib with a warding charm so you can take naps by the water. Doesn't that sound nice, sweetheart?"

A-Yuan snuggles closer, cooing into his ear like a pet bird, and Wei Wuxian kisses him and dries his face before looting the dead and moving on. Unseemly as it is, he can't do without money, and stealing from corpses is easier than robbing the living.

He buys himself beef stew that night and savors every bite of it, saving half the broth and some vegetables for A-Yuan; and when he finally lies down to sleep, on a soft, thick mattress with a woollen blanket to keep out the cold, his memories of the Burial Mounds seem so far away that he can scarcely believe they were real.

But the Burial Mounds are not so easily left behind, as Wei Wuxian discovers when he and A-Yuan both begin having nightmares. A-Yuan fares better during these episodes, because his crying usually summons up a ghoul or two to comfort him; but Wei Wuxian suffers until he wakes and sometimes for hours after, except at the three tiny backroad inns where he had to share his bed with A-Yuan instead of borrowing a cradle.

"You help keep the nightmares away," he realizes at last, while he feeds A-Yuan a dollop of gruel from his own battered spoon. "Yuanyuan, do you mind sleeping in your A-Niang's bed from now on?"

A-Yuan is only too happy to cuddle down beside him at night, and the nightmares vanish as quickly as they came; or at least they did until the fourth week after Wei Wuxian's escape from Luanzung Gang, which is when he finally sees Wang Lingjiao slipping into a rouge shop.

Suddenly, he can think of nothing but the scent of wood and lotus flowers going up in smoke, and Liu-shidi lying dead in the training courtyard with a woman's dagger buried between his little ribs.

Wei Wuxian reaches into his girdle and pulls out the length of ivory silk he took from Wen Qing's office.

"Go back to sleep, A-Yuan," he whispers. "A-Niang is going hunting."

[heuhuewaves]

show me how|chapter 7

This chapter serves as a part 2 to chapter 6

Content warnings: smut and fluff. that’s all!

Word count: 1.9K

song for this chapter: so much better by tinashe

song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/5NCthEXEenk6MaFI7IZGbz?si=69a84a889193410b

Billy had arrived at your house. His car parked at the end of your front yard. It wasn’t exactly the best time most ideal to get home. Normally you would've been back in your bedroom by 10:30 if It wasn’t for you and Billy pouring your hearts out to each other in a Mcdonalds parking lot. 

“I’m honestly not sure if my parents are home or not.” You said to Billy as you exited out of the passenger side of his car.

“Why would that be an issue?” Billy questioned.

“Because, when they see you they’re going to ask you a million questions. As if that’s already not enough, I’m attempting to sneak a boy in my house this late at night.” You continued. You’re parents were never too fond of Billy. He was pretty much an asshole to everyone except you when the two of you dated back in California. Even your own parents couldn’t catch a break when it came to him. You opened the door and were met with both of your parents sitting on the couch, watching a movie in the living room. once the both of you were noticed, They looked blankly at you and Billy, not quite registering the sight they were met with. After a few seconds of silence your mom spoke up.

“Wow, Billy, It feels like it’s been ages since we last saw you. How have you been?” Your mom asked him. You were sulking off to the side. This is what you weren’t looking forward to. Your mom was more forgiving and interactive with Billy. Your dad on the other hand, hated the boy. He swore he would never forgive him for how messy the breakup was. 

“It does. I’ve been good. I hope it’s not too much trouble but I was wondering if I could stay the night here? You know how Neil is and I don’t want him to see me like this.” Billy said as he gestured to his bruised cheek. your mom looked sympathetic. Your dad on the other hand, had no remorse.

“Of course. Y/N you know where the first aid kit is.” Your mom spoke as the you and your ex made it up the stairs. The bathroom was the 2nd door to right. It was kinda cramped, but big enough to fit the two of you. He leaned back against the counter while you fished for a rag and the first aid kit that was packed away in a counter. You wet the rag and began to dab it on the dried blood that was littered around Billy’s nose.

“It’s been forever since you last had to take care of me like this. Have you ever missed it?” He questioned.

“Sometimes. But I’ve missed a lot of things we shared together.” you responded. Billy’s curiosity spiked.

“Like what?”

“Probably that one summer where you worked at surf shop on the pier and I would walk there to see you as soon as you got off work. Then we would go walk around on the beach. It’s the sweet shit like that.” You explained. All of it was true. You deeply missed the moments where it would just be the two of you walking around on the beach. “What about you?”

“Honestly, you took my exact thoughts. I would do a lot to to go back to those times.” Billy reminisced. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss every single the two of you shared back in California. Silence fell over the room as you continued to clean up Billy’s face. “So... What are you thinking about doing after high school?” He continued.

“Still have no idea. I’ve been looking at colleges but nothing has spiked my interest. What about you?” You asked.

“I’m going back to Cali. That’s been my plan since I first got here. I hate Hawkins. So much. It’s done nothing good for me.” Billy spoke. You could really tell the pain in his voice. He missed California so much. He missed the friends he had made there. He missed the history he had there with his mom. Hawkins didn’t have much going for it. He thought of it as a filler placement for his life. He didn’t plan on living in this shit excuse for a living space for the rest of his life.

“Fair. I’m leaning towards that option as well. I don’t think either of us are suited for small towns.” You giggled. Billy laughed quietly along with you. You were soon finished with cleaning up his face and began to bandage his cheek where he had gotten most of the hits. “I mean if things continue to go as planned, maybe we could go back to Cali together?” Billy stared blankly at you and offered no reaction. Immediately realizing the sudden nature of your question, you looked away in embarrassment. “Sorry if that was too forward and out of the blue. I was just thinking that-” You were cut off. Billy caressed your cheek.

“No. You’re fine. It’s not a bad idea and I’d be down if everything works out.” Billy spoke. You both smiled at each other. Billy’s eyes wandered to the bath tub that was towards your right. His mind began to wander with thoughts. Thoughts that only Billy would have including a bathtub. 

“Hey uh, I used to be a lifeguard last summer in case you didn’t know.”

You laughed. “What does that have to do with anything?” Billy smirked.

“You never know. You could start drowning in this bathtub right now and I would be the only one that could be able to save you.” Billy spoke, confidently. He knew exactly what he was doing as he moved closer towards you. “I could teach you how if you like. I do know a lot.” You were now pinned against the wall. Billy’s extended his arm and placed his hand right beside your head. 

“Are you trying to fuck me Hargrove?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side.

“I mean what if I am? I could probably put my lifeguard moves to use. There’s freestyle, butterfly... doggy style.” Billy had the biggest smile on his face. His face was inches away from yours.

“Don’t you mean doggy paddle?” You asked sarcastically. You knew exactly what Billy was doing. This wasn't your first rodeo with him.

“And what if I don’t?” Billy was now even closer to you. His curls tickled the top of your face.

“Well then I guess you’re just going to have to show me what you mean then.” You dared. Neither of you knew how it happened. It just, happened. Billy leaned into you, finally breaking the tension that was left between your faces being inches away from each other and kissed you. It was passionate. It’s like the both of you had spent a year apart. His tongue began to maneuver its way around the inside your mouth. It didn’t take long before your tongue joined his and they began to dance for dominance with each other. Your body was up against his. You could practically feel the tent growing in his pants on the lower half of your body. Billy broke the kiss to catch his breath. You did the same.

“You wanna do this?” He questioned.

“Why stop now?” You smirked back. The two of you left the bathroom and scrambled to your bedroom where you continued the heated make out session. Billy threw you onto your bed and pinned you to the surface. The kiss continued. It was messy and rough. You could tell billy had been waiting to do this for the longest time. You couldn’t deny that you did either. Both of you missed each other’s touch. Each other’s lips. The body heat the two of you shared. It was perfect. Billy began to remove his basketball jersey as you did the same with your hoodie.

Billy hovered over you. You thanked yourself for accidentally leaving your LED lights on all day because his abs looked amazing in red lighting. Your eyes moved towards his lower body as he took off his shorts, along with his underwear. You doing the same again, as if you were in sync. Billy’s dick was huge. You knew that, but hadn’t realized that after being away from it for so long.

“Are you ready?” Billy asked.

“I’m all yours.” You said as you leaned back and smiled. With your permission, he entered you. You let out a quiet yet effective moan. Billy gasped from the shock of not being inside of your for so long. He started off slow. In and out. Your hips were grinding against each other. Billy knew how to work you. The angles, motions. It was all too familiar.

“Fuuuck. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve missed this Y/N.” Billy commented. You couldn’t think of a response. All you could do was smile in arousal. Your brain was mush. The only thing on your mind was Billy and his dick and how he was using it inside of you. He started to pick up the pace a little bit, causing you to moan louder. Billy shushed you. “Oh cmon’ baby, you don’t your parents to hear us. Do you?” He questioned sarcastically. Again, overpowered by arousal, all you could do was nod. Your parents being home honestly became an after thought. 

“Billy. Go faster. Please.” You demanded in the nicest way possible.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to handle that?” Billy questioned as he smirked, continuing to thrust into you.

“Why would I be asking if I couldn’t?” You spoke, barely being able to catch your breath. Billy fulfilled your wish and began to go into you even faster. Breathy moans escaped both of your mouths. 

Billy’s stamina was unmatched. You never knew how, but he had always been able to go for a long time. He knew how to go even longer when he was with someone he loved. Especially with you. It was even easier because he knew every inch of your body. 

You noticed Billy’s breathing begin to hitch. It was a sign that he was close to finishing. 

“I’m gonna f-fucking cum.” Billy stated.

“I’m c-close too.” You spoke back. Billy’s pace was picked up to an even faster speed. It wasn’t long until the both of you came at the same time. Moans escaping both of your lips. Billy laid on top of you before rolling over, switching your positions. You were no on top of him. He began to laugh.

“What’s funny?” You questioned.

“I just think it’s funny how bold you are before sex but whenever I’m on top of you, its a whole 180.” Billy giggled. You rolled your eyes knowing you couldn’t deny it. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?” Billy continued.

“Yeah, why?” you answered.

“Just checking. I don’t think I’d be able to go and focus through a whole entire school day knowing that we just had sex. You would be on my mind the entire day.” Billy said. You smiled, resting your head on his chest. His skin was soft. It was almost calming. Like a Xanax after trying to come down from something crazy.

“I’m flattered.” You laughed. “But I’m also tired.” You removed yourself from his manhood and laid on the side of Billy, snuggling up to him. “Goodnight Billy.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” Billy kissed you on your forehead. The two of you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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Writing smut is draining yet equally fun at the same time lmao

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! <3

@flvneurss @this-gave-pidge-further-shock @zzokks @xuckduck @aworm-onastring  @kaylee444  @lily-sinclair-2006 @tagakalat @sunshinee0-0  @overthewhiteclouds @loadivine @mxltifxnd0m @queenofstarsanddarkness @youcantbesirius @offical-bee @m-rae23 @hqtetsurou​ @mushy-mushroom04​

[caelesjjk]

all at once | kth

Summary: you’ve never been one to judge a book by its cover, so when you found yourself falling for the local mechanic, his job had never made you think less of him. But maybe he didn’t feel the same.

pairing: mechanic!Taehyung x female reader

rating: 18+

genre: kind of strangers to lovers, dumbasses to lovers, fluff, little angst, smut

warnings: Tae gets upset with himself, reader gets upset a few times, mention of drinking alcohol

explicit sexual content: tae does quite a bit of dirty talk and reader LOVES it, slight handjob?, Tae eats her out, car sex, unprotected sex (Dont do that babes), lots and lots of kissing

word count: 4.6k

a/n: so…this is my first fic post for BTS, and I never thought it would be Tae but he fit so good. This idea was originally for a 5sos fic I wrote but turning it Tae was the best thing ever. This is also pretty short but will have a part 2 to bring everything together, I’m usually a very long winded bitch but I wanted to get something out there. I hope you like it, pleeeease let me know thoughts on it. It would mean so much.

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This was never meant to happen. You were never supposed to fall in love with him. It was just supposed to be one silly date. A date that you never expected to go well. In fact, you fully expected to leave half way through the night and take a cab home. But, that wasn’t the case at all.

Taehyung was persistent. He saw you walk into his mechanic shop and knew that he needed you in his life immediately. He was covered in grime and grease that day, and you were in a black pencil skirt that clung to the curves of your hips and ass so perfectly he could feel himself getting hard beneath his dirty jeans. Your heels clicked across the concrete floor in a rush as you yelled into the shop for someone to help you out.

“How can I help you, miss?” Taehyung said, wiping his hands on a rag that was already too dirty to help anything.

“My car.” You sniffled a little. “My car won’t start. It was making noises, so I pulled over and now it won’t start at all and I’ve got to be at the airport soon.” The look on your face was desperate. Taehyung nodded, hopping into the tow truck and patting the seat next to him for you to get in.

You got in the truck with reluctance, considering its heavy layers of grease and dirt. You gave him directions to your car, which was about a mile down the road. By the time Taehyung had your car towed back to the garage with the hood popped open, it was getting dangerously close to time for you to be at the airport.

“So can you fix it?” You asked, biting at the nail on your pointer finger.

“It needs a new timing belt, I can order the part but it won’t be here until morning.” Taehyung explains with sympathy in his voice. You feel your stomach drop, knowing that you’ll miss your flight.

“I um…I need make a phone call.” You can feel tears of frustration start to form in your eyes.

After calling your boss to let him know what was going on, you were pleasantly surprised that he wasn’t upset at all. He told you to grab a hotel room and you could skype into the meeting he was going to be attending. You were so relieved.

“Everything okay?” Taehyung asked when you came back into the garage.

“Surprisingly, yes.” You gave him a small smile. “I’m Y/N by the way.” You take a few more steps towards him to shake his hand.

“Taehyung.” He replies, wiping off his hands on his jeans again before taking your hand.

“Could I possibly trouble you for a ride to the nearest hotel?” You asked, biting softly into your bottom lip. Taehyung could barely keep himself from grabbing your face and kissing you right there.

“Yeah. I mean I could. If you agree to get a coffee with me later?” He looks down at his dirty boots before meeting your eyes again. You look confused.

“You want to get coffee with me?” Your eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“If you’d like.” He says, a smoldering smile settling on his lips.

“Yeah…I guess I could do that.” You don’t know why you hadn’t noticed how gorgeous he was before now. Messy dark curls on his head and perfectly shaped lips that pulled back into the most stunning smile you’d ever seen. The golden hued skin of his arms covered deliciously perfect muscles. You were in trouble.

“Great. Lemme give you that ride.” He opens the door to his tow truck again, letting you hop in on shaky feet.

He pointed out a small coffee shop across the street from the hotel he dropped you off at. You told him you could meet him there around 7 and he had quickly agreed, not wanting you to change your mind.

When the time came for you to meet him, you were afraid you had made a mistake. You didn’t know him. He was a gloriously hot mechanic that could definitely break your heart, and you just didn’t have the time in your life for anything like that. You were almost positive that he would just forget about you and move on with his life when you hadn’t shown up at 7. You were sitting in the middle of your hotel bed surrounded by paperwork to keep you distracted, looking down at your laptop clock to see it was now 8:00pm, just as a soft knock sounds on your door. You quickly wrap your robe around your body and look through the peak hole to see Taehyung standing there, hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

You take a deep breath, opening the door just enough to see him.

“Did you lose track of time?” Taehyung asks, looking a bit disappointed.

“Um…yes…I mean no, that was a lie. I just, couldn’t come.” You look down to hide your guilt.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He asks.

“No. Not at all. I’m just a really busy person, Taehyung. I can’t get into something like this right now.” You open the door a little more as you explain, and Taehyung’s eyes immediately wander down to the exposed skin of your legs before he quickly looks back up at you.

“It’s just a coffee, Y/N. No strings attached.” Taehyung’s hands slide into the front pockets of his now clean black jeans. His black sweater clings to his chest perfectly and exposes his collarbones just enough to make you crazy.

“Just coffee?” You repeat, and he nods his head. “Well do you mind just having a shitty cup of coffee from the coffee maker in here? I’m already in my pajamas.” You open the door completely, inviting him to enter if he wants.

“Who doesn’t love a cup of hotel room coffee?” He smiles, before stepping into the room and looking around at all the cheesy hotel room decor.

You talk for hours. Ending up with a 12 pack of beer to share between you instead of that questionable coffee. Taehyung starts out in the chair across the room, but as the night progresses, he’s migrated to the bed where you’ve been sitting most of the night. You enjoy his company, far more than you should. You are mesmerized by his smile and his goofy laugh. You want hear it over and over again. You’re already in too deep.

He finally decided to call it a night at 4:00am, saying he needed to go home and shower before work, where he had to be at 5:30am. You felt horrible for keeping him so late.

“I didn’t realize it was so late…or so early.” You say, walking him to the door.

“Neither did I. And I don’t regret a single minute of it.” He wets his lips with his tongue as he stands in the doorway, watching your face carefully.

“You’ll call me when the car is finished?” You ask, trying to forget how much you wanted his lips on your skin.

“Of course. Night, Y/N.” He smiles once more before he turns to start walking to his truck. You close the door, pressing your back against it and closing your eyes so you can breathe again. But before you can even catch your breath, there’s a knock on the door. You flip around and open it too quickly, too desperately.

“Taehyung.” You say with too much urgency in your voice. You wanted it to be him more than anything.

“Do you want to get dinner tomorrow night? I um…I really want to see you again.” He looks so utterly perfect as he nervously scuffs his shoe against the pavement.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“Could I also…kiss you?” Taehyung steps into your space, his scent taking over everything. You can’t seem to find your voice, but nod your head yes, because you have been wanting to be kissed by this man all night.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to kiss you.” One of his hands has made its way to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing along your jaw.

“I want you to kiss me…please.” Your body is practically vibrating with want and your breath comes out shaky when you feel his nose brush against yours.

“So polite…so beautiful.” The last word is breathed into your mouth just before he closes that space and your lips finally meet.

It was so gentle and sweet. His mouth tasted like a mix of the cheap beer and the cherry chapstick he had been applying all night. It was perfect. Taehyung held you tightly against his lean body, your arms snaking around his waist. Your neck was craned back, his towering form making this type of kiss feel even better.

You were the first to press your tongue against his lips, making him smile against your mouth before he gave you what you wanted, licking into your mouth so slowly and languidly. It felt like being drunk, breathing in this man. When your hands started fisting into the back of his sweater, your mind clouding with lust and wanting to pull him back into the room and not let him leave, Taehyung pulled back from your lips, your own chasing after his and making him laugh quietly.

“I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, Y/N.” He pecked your lips several more times when you started whining.

“See you tomorrow.” You reigned in your hormones and let him finally leave to get ready for work.

There were plenty of dinners after that. There were breakfasts and lunches. There was a street fair. There were walks around the park. And there were many, many nights of you sitting in his garage watching him work that ended up in heavy make out sessions. It had been two months, and you were irrevocably in love with him. No matter how much you tried to pretend it wasn’t that, you knew it was.

Taehyung was the most considerate person you’d ever met. Rough around the edges but he had the biggest heart. He always made sure you were comfortable, always made sure you got everything you wanted. He talked with you on the phone for hours sometimes when the two of you be in the same place. He respected you and your crazy schedule.

He had recently taken to sending you very scandalous pictures when you were stuck in a long meeting. You pretended to hate it but you didn’t, not even a little. He was so beautiful you had a hard time convincing yourself that he was real.

Tonight was one of those nights you had your way to his garage. You were perched on one of the tall chairs Taehyung had, while he was leaning over the engine of a car, making sure he had everything put back together correctly. Your hair was swept up into a messy bun, and your legs were covered in a very comfy pair of black leggings. You were comfortable here now and you wanted him to know that.

“How could you possibly like vanilla ice cream better than chocolate?” You say, leaning forward on the stool to see his face better.

“Because vanilla is better, baby.” He leans up just enough to smile at you before hunching back over the car motor. Your heart tried to pound out of your chest every time he called you that. It was something recent he started saying, and it would be an absolute lie if you said you didn’t love it.

“When will you be finished?” You whined a little, wanting his attention.

“Are you getting impatient?” He said, not looking up.

“Very.” You squirmed a little on your seat, hoping he would give you what you wanted, which was his sweet lips against yours. Kissing Taehyung was better than any other kiss you had ever experienced. It was never rushed and always just the right amount of everything. You hear him laugh softly as he stands up, grabbing a rag from the tall tool box next to him and wiping his hands.

“And just what should I be doing instead?” He asks, slowly taking a few steps towards you. You cross your legs to keep the ache at bay. He looked like he could absolutely destroy you, and you would gladly allow it to happen.

“I can think of a few things.” You try to be sultry, but you’re positive you sound like an idiot. Taehyung hums, tossing the rag at the old sink.

He closes the gap between the two of you, hooking his hand under your knee so he can uncross your legs and step between them and snugly press himself completely against you. Your hands instinctively slide up the muscular terrain of his arms until they reach his neck, where your fingers lace into the curls that got so messy throughout his day of work. His forehead drops down to yours and his nose skims yours. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel his breath. You skim your nose against his and over his pink tinted cheek, and back over his nose again. Taehyung’s hands find your hips, pulling them forward slightly so that your ass is just barely on the edge of the chair. Your legs slide up the back of his thighs until they’re locked around his waist. The rough and over worked pads of his fingers slide down your thighs and back to your waist.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His lips are at your ear, just barely grazing the skin there. Your body is mush under his touch, and your breath shudders when he pulls your ear lobe between his teeth.

“I want you so badly.” Your words are scratchy and desperate. Taehyung smiles against the skin of your neck, where he kisses and licks until he’s leaving a burning path back to your lips, finally kissing you like you had wanted from the beginning.

“I would do anything you wanted me to.” He breathes against your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth when it falls open from desire.

Your hands leave his curls and slide down to the hem of his white t-shirt, pushing it up until he grabs at it and pulls it over his head. You immediately bring your lips to his skin, kissing his soft stomach and chest that are now exposed to you at eye level. When your tongue brushes over one of his nipples, it’s like something ignites inside him and he’s grabbing the globes of your ass and lifting you off the stool. You wrap your arms back around his neck, opening your eyes to see him looking back at you.

“Taehyung…” You say.

“I know, baby. I know what you need.” He carries you from the chair you were sitting on over to the hood of the classic car he had been restoring in his spare time. The cold metal of the car blankets your skin in goosebumps as the beautiful man in front of you drinks in the way you look laying across the hood of his car. You tried to use your feet to pull him back down to you but he continued to look at you like you were the most stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes on. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says, his hands pushing your knees apart.

“Me or the car?” You tease with a genuine smile on your face.

“Mmm, I don’t need the car. But I most certainly need to be inside of you.” He leans over your body pushing up the material of your shirt so he can flatten his tongue against your skin, licking a path from your belly button to the valley between your breasts. You can’t contain the moan that escapes you.

“Please don’t tease me, Tae.” You bite your bottom lip to hold back another moan.

“I wanted this to be so much more romantic the first time it happened.” He breathed as you lifted your arms above your head, letting him pull your shirt over your head and expose your bare chest to him.

“I don’t need big romantic gestures, I just need you.” You cup his cheeks and angle his face up so that he can look at you.

“You’re fucking perfect. Every fucking inch of you.” He groans, taking one of your nipples between his sweet lips. You bite into your bottom lip, but the more he sucks at your nub of nerves the harder it is to hold in the sinful noises.

“Tae…please.” You beg, needing him to give you the release you craved.

“It is taking every ounce of restraint that I have not to rip these leggings off your perfect body and fuck you senseless. But I want more than that from you.” He leaves wet kisses down the center of your torso as he moves down your body.

“What else do you want?” Your body arches off the car hood a little when his tongue circles your navel.

“I want to taste you. I want to make you feel so fucking good.” His dirty words are making the wetness between your legs unbearable.

“Get them off.” You pull at the band of your leggings, trying to pull them down. But his hands come over yours.

“I’ve got you, beautiful.” He says, pulling the thin material off of your hips and slowly down your legs.

He wraps his long fingers around your ankle, bringing it up to his lips so he can pepper kisses from there to your calf. You watch in awe as he continues kissing up your leg to the inside of your thigh. He looks up at you with lust and hunger in his eyes. You’re practically dripping with the anticipation of his swollen lips wrapping perfectly around your clit.

“I need you to touch me.” You whine.

“Show me where.” He kisses your soaking heat over the flimsy material of your underwear, causing another pathetic moan from you.

You don’t waste any more time, you are far too turned on to be shy at this point. Sliding one of your hands that was previously resting above your head down the center of your body and into the front of your underwear, you circle your aching clit with the tip of your finger. Even that small bit of contact makes your back arch off the hood of the car and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

You open your heavy eyes long enough to see Taehyung watching you intently, the hard line of his cock in his jeans becoming more and more prominent. You want nothing more than to be on your knees in front of him with your lips wrapped around him completely while you let him fuck your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. I could cum just watching you.” He gets down on his knees so that he’s eye level with your heat, slowly reaching up and pushing your underwear to the side so that he can slip one of his long digits inside you.

You almost explode right there and then from the pleasure. You try to keep up the work on your clit while he’s sliding another finger in but your minstrations are becoming too sloppy. You take your hand away and sit up on your elbows to watch him work. He stands up, keeping his fingers buried deep inside you, petting at that perfect spot, and kisses you deeply.

“I’m gonna taste you now.” He says against your lips. You have never been so ready. He pecks your lips a few more times before ducking down between your legs again.

This time he hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off. Grabbing your thighs in each hand, he slides you down the car so your ass is on the edge and your pussy is at the perfect height for him to taste. Before you can protest at how long it’s taking, Taehyung is licking just where you want him. Sucking in all the right places. Taking the time to turn his head and kiss your quaking thighs now and then. He has you a moaning and screaming mess in no time at all. Your fingers instinctively went into the curls on top his head, holding on for dear life as he continued the assault with his tongue and lips.

“Tae…Taehyung…m’ so close.” You can barely form a coherent sentence.

“Look at me when you do, baby.” He says it quickly, and goes back to sliding his tongue deep inside you and pinching your clit between his fingers. It was like a wave of complete and utter lust was washing over you as your orgasm hit you. It took all your strength to open your eyes and look down at Taehyung. He met your eyes and quickly stood up to kick off his jeans and boxers after you had cum all over his tongue, his chin was covered in your arousal and it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

Your head is swirling and your muscles ache from pleasure, but you can sense that Taehyung has picked you up but you aren’t sure if it’s actually happening or if it’s just a dream. When your eyes are able to focus again, you can see that he’s opened the door to the backseat of the car and he’s sliding into the seat with you straddling his thighs.

“I thought I was dreaming.” You say lazily, cupping his face and kissing his lips.

“I think I’m the one who’s dreaming, beautiful. Never thought someone like you would walk into my life and completely consume every part of it.” His hands slide up your back and into your hair angling your lips just how he wants them. “Ride me?” He asks next.

You use his shoulders to help lift your hips to hover above his hard length, so much bigger than you had thought it was. You can’t help wrapping your hand around him and pumping a few times, feeling how hot and heavy he is in your hand and the sounds he makes when you do were enough to make you dripping wet all over again. Taehyung gently pushes your hand away, groaning as he positions himself beneath you.

You slowly lower down onto him, the feeling of him stretching you out is the most pure pleasure you’ve ever felt. You feel his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to resist pulling you down onto him harder. And once your completely seated on his cock, and you feel his hips buck up just the slightest, you almost lose it completely. You bring your hands up to grip the headrest of the seat and bring your hips back up again. He’s so hard that you swear you can feel every vein petting at your wet walls.

“Oh, fuck Y/N. Baby, that’s so good.” Taehyung moans, his voice is deep and raspy. His rough hands are guiding your hips up and down as you start to swivel them each time you come down. You let your head fall back and the moans flow. When you begin to pick up the pace, Taehyung holds your body closer, and leans up so he can talk in your ear.

“You fit me like you were made for me, baby. So tight and perfect.” He rolls his hips up into your making you scream out his name. He kisses your shoulder and does it again, getting the same reaction. “Want to keep my cock buried in this pussy forever.”

“Tell me more, tell me how it feels.” You beg. You love his dirty words so much.

“Like heaven. So fucking wet, all for me.” He moans in your ear, causing your whole body to shiver and your pussy to clench around him. You know you’re getting so close again.

Taehyung grips his fingers into your ass and slams you down onto his cock, causing you to see stars. You feel yourself tighten around him, releasing your second orgasm of the night. You slump against him, your hands going back into his hair and holding on while he thrusts upwards to chase his high.

“You’re so good, babe. So so good. Please cum for me” You whisper in his ear to urge him on.

You sit up the slightest bit to watch his face as he reaches his orgasm. His swollen lips are parted and his breath is panting while his hips are sputtering. It doesn’t take much longer for him to release inside you, and for you to feel the hot liquid drip down the inside of your thighs. Taehyung gently takes your face in his hands, pushing some hair back from your eyes before he kisses you.

“Is now a bad time for me to tell you that I love you?” He smiles, eyes half closed with lust. You look at him a moment before answering.

“Never a bad time for that.” You smile at him and touch his shoulders.

“Will you say it back?” He sits up farther, holding you against him. Almost like he’s afraid you might run.

“Mmm, of course I love you, Kim Taehyung. Have for a while.” You confess.

“I want to tell you that every day.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Then you should.” Your arms wrap around his neck.

“It would be much easier if you moved in with me.” He says, but you can tell he’s nervous about what he’s asked. And you honestly don’t know what to say. You live in the city 30 minutes away for work.

“Taehyung…I…” You start to say.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer now. Just think about it.” He kisses your lips quickly, before carefully moving you from his lap so that he can get up from the seat. You watch his gloriously naked body walk to the front of the car and grab your clothes for you.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, but the smile he gives back isn’t convincing. He quickly goes back to grab his pants and slips them on his long legs. You quickly throw on your clothes and while he has his back turned to you, you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso.

“I’m sorry about all that.” He says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his back where your face is pressed.

“Please don’t be. I didn’t say no, did I?” You kiss a quick trail along his spine.

“No. But it was too much. The’ I love you’ was bad enough, but I asked you to move in with me after two months…such an idiot.” He takes one of your hands and gently pulls you around to face him, kissing the top of your hand and your wrist.

“It’s just a lot to think about. But I’m not upset that you asked me.” You try to meet his eyes but he still won’t.

“Yeah. I’ll um…I better close up here. Are you okay to get home?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I thought that I’d stay?” You asked.

“Not tonight, Y/N.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead before walking over and opening the door of the garage for you to walk out.

“Taehyung…whats going on?” You ask.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He lets you get out the door before he closes it and turns the lock.

You have no idea what just happened. How things went from being absolutely perfect to absolutely broken. You drive back home with tears stinging your eyes and far too many questions without answers.

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Percy was ready to give up. Staying with Piper sounded so fun in theory - two weeks of nothing but sun and beach -, but only when he got there, luggage full of shorts and tank tops, was he notified that the McLeans were invited to a fancy party full of actors and actresses, and he was required to attend as well. Thus, he was forced to go to buy some clothes for the fancy ass gala, and he knew nothing about materials and designs and anything. Not even Piper could help him, because not even being a child of Aphrodite was enough to gift her a fashion sense (her words, not Percy's).

So, as Percy was standing in a tailor shop, getting poked and prodded by needles, he was ready to just jump out the window and run away. Only Mr. McLean's - Tristan, as he allowed Percy to use his given name - arrival stopped him from doing as he planned.

"I hope it's okay that I came. Piper is not the best at choosing the right items, and you seemed like you were going to your execution, so I thought I could help," he explained, and Percy would have fallen to his knees to thank the man, if he wouldn't have been used as a pincushion.

"Please, save me," Percy said in an over dramatic tone, but the sentiment was true.

The man gave him one of those smiles that made him the Most Handsome Man in some gossip rags. Suddenly, it felt hot in the room, even if the air conditioner was working, and Percy wished for a glass of water as his mouth felt dry.

"Your wish is my command," the actor joked, and turned towards the tailor who was determined to stab Percy with as many needles as he could. The son of Poseidon was pretty suspicious that the tailor was a monster in disguise, but when he slid out Riptide, the man didn't even flinch at the sight, he was just confused why his customer had a paintbrush in his pocket. It was just a normal asshole, who, after taking a look at Percy's attire, was convinced that Percy was worth little of his time.

"Sir." Tristan's voice changed, it became more demanding, more menacing. "I would assume you don't want the wrong kind of publicity, so I would suggest you cease what you are doing. Now," he said, gesturing at Percy wincing at another needle stab. "And what about that suit?! That shade of green doesn't suit him at all! That gray fabric over there, try that one out," he ordered, and after that, Percy went through the surreal experience of having a legendary actor dressing up him, picking out the best fabric for his brand new, fucking expensive suit that Percy would rather not wear at all in fear for damaging the clothing.

Yet there he was, staring into the mirror, and he felt like he was looking at a completely different person.

"You look good," Tristan said, gently smiling at him. His hands settled on Percy's shoulders, his eyes never leaving Percy's through the mirror image.

"I look nothing like me," Percy murmured, not completely sure if it was a good or a bad thing. The suit was more comfortable than he had expected, the light gray fabric of the suit with the white shirt and forest green tie drew attention to Percy's eyes, and his other prominent features.

"You look like you always do. You are just wearing more form-fitting clothes," the man replied, squeezing his shoulders.

"I need to thank you for that. If it wasn't for you, I don't know…" Percy trailed off, strangely flustered at the closeness of the actor.

"You would have looked amazingly even without my help," Tristan smiled, but it had an edge to it. "But if you want to thank me…" he raised his eyebrow suggestively, and Percy had to swallow. He knew it, he expected it; ever since he arrived to the McLean mansion, the sexual tension between the two of them grew and grew, and it could only end up in one way. But now that he was there, it felt more real. Tristan's eyes ranking down his body felt like they were lighting up a fire in him. His breath hitched, he had to fix his collar to get some air.

"I want to thank you," Percy nodded, managing to keep his voice steady and confident, even if he was shaking with want and nerves.

He was going to fuck his friend's father.

And he didn't feel even a little bit of guilt about it.

Tristan's hands slid down from his shoulders to his chest, still looking at Percy from the mirror, slowly unbuttoning his jacket, then his shirt. The demigod shivered at the cool air touching his heated skin, and he let out a little whimper as cold fingers trailed across his chest, stopping at his hard nipples, pinching them.

Tristan gave a low laugh at Percy's blush creeping down on his chest, then pressed a kiss on his naked shoulder.

"More," Percy whispered, his cock painfully pressing against the tight pants. He caught his breath as the man, clearly done with the teasing they did for almost a week, tugged down his pants, leaving him bare.

"You look absolutely edible," Tristan growled, his hands running up and down on the younger man's body. Percy felt naked, as Tristan didn't even undress, he only lowered his pants to take his cock out, while he was standing there, bare as he was born. But then he didn't really have much time to complain about it, as the man pulled out a lube from somewhere - who brought lube to a tailor shop?! -, and slid one, then two, then threw fingers into him. He shivered and moaned, only half-minding the volume, because he didn't want anybody to notice them, but Tristan's fingers felt so good-

And then it was not wide fingers sliding in and out of him, but cock, a hot, hard, thick throbbing cock.

"Ah," Percy moaned, throwing back his head as Tristan fucked him steadily, against the mirror. He reached back to curve an arm around the actor's neck, just to touch him, and made unconscious little sounds as the older man's cock dragged over his prostate. He bent forward, leaning to the cold surface, willing Tristan to fuck him harder, faster, more, moremoremore-

Soft kisses were pressed against the back of Percy's neck, in a dizzying contrast with the fast-paced, hard thrusts. He met with each thrusts with enthusiasm, getting closer and closer, and closer-

Tristan made a dying sound as he came into him, deep and hot, and he didn't need more to come. He groaned loudly as his come painted the mirror white, and he knew he must have left a scar on Tristan's neck as he dug his nails into the tanned skin.

Good, Percy though, feeling oddly satisfied at the thought he left a mark on the older man. They breathed loudly, not hurrying to part and to clean themselves up. They waited until the last moment to separate, until it became too uncomfortable to bear the position, the cooling cum dripping down on Percy's legs.

"I'm afraid I didn't bring anything we could use to clean us with," Tristan said with regret in his voice.

"It's okay," Percy shrugged, wanting to laugh at their situation, but he couldn't, because his neck was grabbed, and he was hauled close to Tristan for a kiss. Their first kiss.

Percy was breathless and light-headed when they pulled away from each other, and he knew if he didn't just come harder than ever, he would have been rock hard from the scorching hot kiss.

"Come home with me," Tristan murmured into his lips.

"You know that I live with you right now, yeah?" Percy smirked, as the older man rolled his eyes.

"I mean, into my bed. Sleep with me," he breathed, his brown, intense eyes mesmerizing Percy.

"Sleep or sleep?" He teased, his heart flipping once, twice in his chest. He wanted to hear it so bad, he wanted, please-

"Both," Tristan said, voice determined, and Percy could do nothing else but say yes.