#i gave my other cat her does a few DAYS ago and it took me like max a minute

[cottageivy]

listen, i know that there is a difference between having a baby and having a cat, however. i do at least get a glimpse of what having a toddler is like when i try and give my cat flea medicine.

i try to give it to them when they’re just laying down because it legit takes like a minute to do. my other cat is fine and stays in one place but as soon as my cat Baker feels it on him he is done. and he doesn’t fall for me trying to lure him back to just get the rest of it. it took two tries and then there was just literally a squeeze left, and i had to just lay on the floor next to him while he sulked under the dresser

[starkstruck27]

I headcanon that today (June 14th, but I might not get it posted by midnight because time management is not my strong suit lol) is Steve's birthday, and we just had a book signing at the bookstore I work at tonight, so I was inspired to write this. It's modern day, and slightly aged up characters, but not by much. Enjoy!

Steve couldn't believe his luck. It was his birthday, and it seemed like everything was going just right today. First, he woke up before his alarm and actually felt energized, then Robin had promised to take him out wherever he wanted to go later on (even volunteering to drive so she could show off her new license and car), then his favorite coffee place gave him a discount and a free pastry since it was his birthday, and to cap it all off, he had gotten back a test from one of his most difficult classes, and he'd passed it with flying colors. All in all, it was a good day. But then, he saw a sign outside the campus bookstore, and it went from good to great.

The sign was advertising a book signing with a local author, who just so happened to be Steve's favorite author of all time. The guy's name was Ronnie Fitconi, a mysterious man who never had his picture in any of his books. He didn't write much about himself in the little "about the author" section of his books either, the only things he said was that he was 23, just a year younger than Steve was, he lived somewhere in Indianapolis, he preferred tea over coffee, he loved the beach, he was a cat person, and he was gay (which was pretty apparent from the books he wrote, but whatever).

The book that he was promoting with the signing was his fourth, pretty impressive for a guy so young, but Tik Tok had managed to make him blow up practically overnight. That and how secretive the guy was. Seriously, if you looked the guy up on Google, it was like he didn't even exist. There were no pictures of him, and no record of him except that he was a writer that blew up after his first book was released three years ago. This was the first book signing he had ever done, and it was only to the local college bookstore and a few others in the area, but all were small, and none were at big chain stores, only locally owned.

As soon as Steve saw the sign, he took a picture of it, then immediately called Robin as he rushed back to his car.

"Dingus!" She answered, her smile evident in her voice, "Happy Birthday! What's up, buttercup?"

"Hi, Robbie. Thanks for that. But also, you know how you said you'd take me to do anything I wanted tonight for my birthday?" He asked, practically vibrating out of his skin.

"Yeah. Did you finally decide what you want to do?" She asked.

"Yes, and I know it's probably not going to be the rip-roaring time you were planning, but just hear me out, okay?" He said, "How would you like to come with me to meet Ronnie Fitconi?"

"That author you like?" She asked, "Yeah, of course! I told you, anything you want to do, I'm down. So, what's the plan? Are we breaking into his house?"

"What? No! You are seriously so weird. He's doing a book signing at the campus bookstore, I was gonna bring my books and buy his new one and then I get to meet him and get his autograph! No breaking and entering required."

"Well, that's a lot less fun, but I'll be there. What time does it start?" Robin asked.

"6:30 tonight," Steve replied.

"Let's get there at 6:00, we don't want to have to wait forever, so it'd probably be better to get there early."

"Good thinking. In the meantime, we have a couple of hours, and my classes just ended for the day. Will you meet me for dinner and help me pick out what to wear so I don't look like a total idiot?" Steve asked, already heading towards his dorm.

"Of course. I'll bring tacos. I'll be there in ten."

With that, Robin hung up the phone, and Steve drove off towards his place. As soon as he got there, he went to his desk to get his copies of Ronnie's first three books. Steve would probably never admit to liking them as much as he did to anyone but Robin, because the guy wrote only romance novels, but he really did love them. He didn't read much, and when Ronnie's debut novel came out, he didn't have much interest in that, either. But then he read the second book when it came out, and he was hooked. He read the third one when it came out and only got further hooked, and finally he buckled and read the first one, too. He hadn't expected to like it, but he found that he couldn't put it down, and now that another one was coming out, he couldn't wait to read it, too.

The first book the guy had written was called "Kings of the Lost World", and it was a dystopian sci-fi romance. It was about a young man who thought he was king of all he saw, but just as he's settling into the position, the apocalypse hits. The king gets taken down a peg, having to team up with the same guy who had been in his position before, but got kicked off his throne before the new king had taken over, but now, they have to learn to lean on each other to survive. They have a rocky start at first, but eventually, it turns out that they fall in love, and they manage to find a place where they are safe and get to live out the rest of their lives in happiness. Steve honestly didn't think he'd like the book, since he typically hated both sci-fi and dystopian, but he ended up loving the book when he finally read it. It almost reminded him of when he was in high school, when Billy Hargrove came and kicked him off his throne for good, all except for the romance bit.

The second book the guy had published and the one that had gotten Steve hooked on the guy's writing was probably his saddest one, called "Blood of the Innocent". It was a noir thriller set in the 1920s, about a gay man who sang in speakeasies as a drag queen who got accused of murdering a bunch of young men that went to the clubs he sang at. The detective in the story, who was closeted himself, fell in love with the guy while trying to clear his name and solve the case, but after they'd started their affair, they were found out. This book didn't end up as happily as the first, with the two of them being able to run away together, rather they were both killed for their relationship and the original case was mostly forgotten about and covered up, only to go cold and remain unsolved. When Steve read it, he could not put it down, and when he got to the ending, he would be lying if he said he hadn't flat-out bawled over it. He had finished it around two in the morning one night, and Robin was not exactly happy about having to wake up to his call at that time to listen to him rant to her about it, but she read the book later at his insistence, and she soon forgave him once she got to the end.

The third book the guys wrote was called "Don't Fence Me In", and was a cute, sweet, rom-com kind of book about two young men who worked together on a horse ranch. The one man had lived there his whole life and who's father owned the place, but was getting too old to run it, so they hired a farmhand. That's where the other man came in, a handsome guy from out of town who had just been looking for work anywhere, and who the first guy thought was much too prissy and posh for the kind of manual labor that was expected of him. He had come from the city and was the son of a rich businesswoman, so why he wanted to run from that cushy lifestyle just to work on a rinky-dink ranch, the first guy didn't know, but he teased him about it relentlessly. But where he expected the guy to get offended and ditch his position, the other guy just took it lightly and met it with laughter, until they became friends, and eventually, even more than that. At the end of the book, the first guy's father, who, once he found out about the relationship supported it 100%, gave up ownership of the ranch to his son and his boyfriend, and the two were married on their land with the help of a fat check from the second guy's mother, who also supported them completely. Steve had gushed so hard over the book that when he was reading it, he found himself lying on his stomach with his legs kicked up and a permanent smile on his face as he twirled his hair. It was probably his favorite of all three books.

And now, as he held each book in his hands and placed them in his favorite tote bag to take with him to the signing event, he couldn't help but wonder what the next book might be about. That was another reason he loved this author so much, he always kept you guessing on what he might do next. Most authors picked one or two genres and stuck to them, but this guy was all over the place. And yet, everything he wrote was absolutely amazing, and had Steve captivated within a few pages. He could not wait to see where things would go this time.

After a few minutes of thinking about it, he heard a knock on his door, and he knew Robin was there. He went to let her in and immediately, the two of them set up the tacos on his desk and ate while Steve threw practically every piece of clothing he owned around his room, trying to find the perfect outfit. There was still an hour and a half before they had to be at the bookstore, but Steve refused to leave the apartment until he knew he looked perfect.

"Seriously, is it really that big a deal? I mean, you're gonna see him for like, five minutes. If that. You don't have to be in a tux or anything for that," Robin said as Steve continued to fret over whether he should wear his blue sweater or his green button-down as if the fate of the world depended on it.

"Yes, Robin, it is that big a deal! I don't want to look like an idiot! I'm already gonna look like a creep because of how much I love his books, and if I blank on him and say something stupid or can't speak at all, I want to at least look my best so he can't gossip about that to people, too!" Steve said, finally deciding on the sweater, but then having a whole new meltdown over which pants would go best with it.

"Okay, point taken, but also, you're selling yourself short. I'm sure he won't think you're an idiot, and he'll probably be flattered that you like his books so much. I mean, he wrote them for people to read and enjoy, right? And if you freeze up, I'll be right there with you to bring you out of it, so you really don't have anything to worry about. And go with the brown pants, the gray ones don't look right." She said, finally deciding to be helpful.

"Okay, I guess you're right. Now, which shoes should I go with? Dress shoes would probably be too formal, right?" He asked, holding his selections up to himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, just wear your converse or vans. We might still get stuck in line since this guy is so popular, so you should wear something comfortable. And wear your white dress shirt under your sweater so that the collar and cuffs stick out. It'll give you that cute academia look with your glasses and make it less weird to think of you as a bookworm." Robin said, helping him pick out the final few things and then leaving to give him privacy as he changed. Not that he needed it, they've both changed in front of each other countless times, but still. She also had a surprise for him, and she needed an excuse to count her cash without him seeing.

Finally, he was finished, and after he was finally satisfied with his hair, they put the leftover tacos in the fridge and Steve grabbed his books. They hopped in Robin's car, and got to the bookstore right at 6:00, ready to go inside with the others already on their way. The bookstore employees were apparently already checking people in, so Steve was anxious to get in there and get a good spot in line, but before he could jump out of the car (and his skin), Robin grabbed his arm.

"Wait, you're missing a few final things," she said, rummaging around in her little backpack that had the little video game character Kirby all over it.

"What?" Steve asked, his heart beating hard enough already. What could he have forgotten? Was his breath bad after the tacos? Did he have something on his face or in his teeth? Had his hair gone flat?

"One, a breath mint, just in case," she said, opening her pack of Altoids and giving him one. "Two, your inhaler, also just in case. We don't need you hyperventilating in front of your hero. Three, some lip gloss, just like back in our scoops days to really complete the look and make you just that much cuter."

She handed him a tube of her favorite lip gloss, strawberry banana flavored, the same kind she used to lend him way back when that made his lips pink and full. He slathered on a layer and handed it back to her, then popped the breath mint and slipped his inhaler into his pants pocket, fixing his hair and taking one last deep breath before turning to her and smiling nervously.

"You think I have everything?" He asked.

"Almost," she said, "You still need one more thing."

With that, she reached into her bag again and pulled out her wallet, handing him forty dollars in cash with a big smile on her face. Steve stared at the money, dumbfounded, trying to hand it back on instinct.

"No, keep it. You need it if you want to get his new book. Besides, it's your birthday present. You don't get to argue, I'm paying for it. Now let's get inside before they sell out!" Robin said, smiling widely at Steve's confused spluttering.

"Robin, you don't have to pay for me. Thank you, but you really don't-"

"Shut up your face, Dingus! I want to. Besides, like I said, it's your birthday present. Now, let's go, for real. We don't want to be the last ones in line, do we?"

Finally, Steve relented, climbing out of the car and meeting Robin at the front of it to give her the tightest hug he could muster before they walked in. They may be strictly platonic, but Steve loved her more than he ever loved anyone before, and he had to make sure she knew that.

Finally, they walked into the bookstore, where they were greeted by an overly chipper employee who already looked tired, and the event hadn't even started yet.

"Hi! Are you guys here for the book signing?" She asked, her customer service smile and attitude something the two of them were all too familiar with.

"Yeah, we are," Robin said, grinning widely at her.

"Great! Do you have your tickets already or do you need to purchase a copy of the book now?" the employee asked, covering her mouth against a yawn.

"No, we need to buy a copy," Steve said, holding tightly on his tote bag straps.

"Okay, that's perfectly fine. Just go on up to the front registers, Gigi will be there to help you out, and then just keep your receipt and you can jump in line. Have fun!" The employee smiled, then greeted the next people that came in behind them.

Steve and Robin went to the counter and did as instructed, asking the girl there for a copy of the book and paying for it before getting in line and waiting for it to start moving. As they did, Steve was practically on pins and needles, and Robin took the opportunity to examine the cover of the new book. It was called "Court of Royal Rivalries", and the pun was evident when you saw the cover. It was two boys playing basketball, one a brunet in a green and white jersey and the other a blond with not shirt on, just green shorts.

"Hey Dingus, can I see your book for a second?" Robin asked, and Steve handed it over.

"Sure, why?" He asked.

"I just want to read the back and see what it's about," Robin said, flipping it over.

"Ooh, read it out loud, I want to know, too." Steve encouraged, and Robin began to read.

"Seth Haner is the king of his high school, with everything his heart would desire. He's got money, he's got looks, he's got charm, and most of all, he's got his peers groveling at his feet for even a scrap of his attention. But after having been dumped by his girlfriend Natalie seemingly out of nowhere, he realizes that what he really wants, a love that will last, is the one thing he doesn't have. Enter Ben Holden, a new student transferring into the sleepy rural town from California. Suddenly, Ben is the hottest commodity in the school, easily dethroning Seth and taking over his court. Seth can't stand the guy, and is dreading it when he finds out that they'll be playing basketball together, the one things Seth has left after losing practically everything. Ben is a monster on the court, and Seth feels like he's losing basketball, too, when the coach tells them to work out their differences or they'll both be nixed from the team. Can Seth and Ben put aside their differences to find their similarities? Or will the blood of the two kings be spilled as they fight for the crown on the court?"

Steve stared at her as she finished reading the blurb, his jaw hanging open as she finished.

"Okay," he said, debating whether or not he needed to use his inhaler, "Either this is one hell of a coincidence or... Well, no, that has to be it! That's so fucking weird."

"I know! I mean, that's like your high school career in a nutshell. And look at the cover! I'm willing to bet my life that the brunet one is Seth and the blond is Ben, because this is too fucking uncanny. That is the creepiest shit ever. It's like a glitch in the matrix or something!" Robin agreed, handing the book back to Steve.

"Wait a second, hang on, I want to see something," he said, pulling out the other three books from his bag as the line began to move. He flipped them each open to the title pages, and Robin watched as he found what he was looking for.

"Okay, wait, look at this," he said, showing her the first one, "This book is dedicated to his sister, apparently, who 'taught him what it was like to live through the end of the world'. Then this one," he opened the second book to the same page, "This one is dedicated to his mom, who 'kept him safe until things got hard and then left him to the wolves'. And this one," he opened the third one, "is dedicated to his father, who 'should have supported him like Mr. Montgomery supported River'. So I wonder..." Steve said, then opened up the fourth book, and his heart nearly stopped when he read the dedication.

"What does it say?!" Robin insisted. They were only a few people away from meeting the guy, but Steve felt like he knew him already, and it only raised more questions that he couldn't figure out the answers to as he handed the book to Robin to read for herself.

The dedication read, "To my Pretty Boy. You know who you are. This is the way I wish our story ended up. I'm sorry."

Robin finished reading it and her eyes went wide as she looked up at Steve, the both of them utterly baffled. This was just impossible. Neither of them could believe it, and neither of them knew what to say. They were both trying to come up with some way to explain it, but before they could, another bookstore employee, a man about their age with dark hair down to his shoulders, ushered them through the backdrop screens that were set up to keep the interactions private and told them to have fun.

Steve and Robin didn't know if it was more or less confusing when they stepped up to the table and saw none other than Billy Hargrove sitting in front of them, a sharpie in his hand and his blond hair tied up into a knot on top of his head. He had a slight beard now and more tattoos now than back in high school, in fact, he had a whole sleeve on one arm and a few standalone ones on his other arm. He was wearing a short sleeve button up, but unlike back in school, all the buttons were done up, except for the top two, exposing the pendant he still wore and just a sliver of his still golden skin. His eyes were still the same sparkling blue, but they were partially hidden behind a pair of round brown glasses. He still wore his dagger earring, but he had a few more piercings up around the shell of his ear and a stud in his nose now, too. Overall, he looked fantastic, he took Steve's breath away, but he was still completely floored that he was sitting there in front of them.

"Hi, how are yo-" Billy said, finally looking up at them and seeming to choke on the words, literally. He began to cough as his face went red, and the manager of the bookstore ran to get him a bottle of water while another employee, the dark haired man, came over to make sure everything was okay.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, thanks," Billy said, waving the man off, "Just wasn't expecting to see any familiar faces today."

The manager finally returned with the water, and Billy drank it, and once he caught his breath, he finally seemed to get himself collected. At least, collected enough to turn on his charm and start acting like he hadn't just choked at the sight of two blasts from his past.

"Well well well, Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. I never expected to see you two around here. How've you been?" He asked, motioning for Steve's books and readying his sharpie.

"Um, fine, I guess?" Robin said, "Wow, sorry, it's just a trip seeing you here. I honestly thought you were dead or something."

"Aw, I wish!" Billy joked, smiling as Steve finally handed him the books and he began to scribble in them. "But no, seriously, it's a trip to see you guys, too. I never expected to see anyone from Hawkins ever again once I moved out here. I'm not surprised you thought I was dead, I tried to bury my old self. That's why I don't let anyone take pictures and why I write under a pen name. I didn't want to be found."

"Jesus, what, are you on the run?" Robin asked, Steve still speechless beside her.

"No, just living happily by myself for once and not wanting anyone to find out and ruin it for me. I guess you guys know, but the fact that you're here means you're fans, so I don't think I need to worry too much about you posting my yearbook pictures all over Twitter as long as I ask you really nicely." He grinned, and Steve nearly lost his breath all over again.

"Well, Stevie's more of a fan than I am. It's his birthday today, so I told him we could do whatever he wants tonight and since he loves your books we ended up here, but either way, my lips are sealed." Robin said, finally stepping back and pushing Steve forward to make him interact with the other guy.

"Y-yeah, no, I wouldn't tell anyone. I mean, after all you've gone through to make sure no one knows who you really are. Like, I couldn't even find you when I googled your name, and you can find anyone on google." Steve rambled, hoping that Billy couldn't hear his heart beating practically out of his chest.

"I appreciate that," Billy said, his smile big and bright on his face. "So, how've you been, Stevie? I hear you're a huge fan. What did you think of the last one?"

"I-I loved it. 'Fence' is probably my favorite of them, but I love all your books. You're a really talented writer, I never would've thought- Wait, no, that came out wrong! Jeez, I hope I didn't offend you, I just meant that you always seemed more street smart than book smart- shit, I didn't mean that either, I just meant- Oh, hell," Steve stammered, his face going as red as Robin's t-shirt, "This is coming out all wrong, I didn't mean that, I hope I didn't just piss you off, because I really do like your books and I'm just nervous cuz it's you and you're like, the last person I expected to see here signing them. I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, calm down, Stevie Boy. It's fine, I get it. No need to be sorry for anything. And anyway, I'm the one who choked when I first saw you," Billy chuckled, finally finishing writing in the last book and capping his sharpie before he handed them back to Steve to put in his bag. "I'm glad I got to see you guys again. I think I needed some familiarity. It was starting to get a little lonely being a ghost. Hopefully I'll see you again sometime soon."

And with that, he stood up, gave them each a quick hug, and then motioned for the dark haired man to bring in the next group. Steve and Robin left through another set of screens and to the door, the both of them seemingly in a daze until they got to Robin's car.

"Well, that was... certainly something," Robin said, staring straight ahead, just like Steve, both of them still trying to wrap their heads around it.

"You can say that again. I mean, Billy fucking Hargrove? I never would've guessed in a million years." Steve said, his eyes still wide.

"Neither would I." Robin agreed.

"And to make matters worse, he was so fucking hot! Like, that was not fair for the universe to make me look like such an imbecile in from of him!" Steve ranted.

"Okay, it really wasn't that bad, you were just star-struck, I'm sure he gets that all the time. And besides, he looked happy to see us, especially you," Robin replied, then she seemed to remember something, perking up and turning to look at him. "Wait, what did he write in your books? He wrote for a long time, it couldn't have just been his signature."

Steve nodded his agreement and took the books back out of his tote, starting with the first one and flipping it open to the page that Billy had written on.

"What does it say?" Robin asked, trying to lean over to see, but she couldn't read the cursive Billy wrote in.

"It says, 'Pretty Boy, since you're a fan and you already know, here's some more tidbits you might not have guessed about...(1/4)' then his signature." Steve opened the second book, and read on, "This one says, 'First off, my pseudonym is a joke. I always liked the name Ronnie, and Fitconi is an anagram of the word 'Fiction', because it's a fake name. Clever, huh? (2/4)'. Then his signature again." He flipped open the third book, his heart pounding in his ears as he read, "This one says, 'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books-'"

Steve cut himself off as his heart got caught in his throat, but he swallowed as he started over, "'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books are about you and me, and the way I wish they'd been for us. (3/4)', and his signature again."

"Holy shit!" Robin said, practically lunging at him as she begged him to read the last one.

"And finally, this one says, 'Lastly, I'd like to see you again. Maybe I can elaborate what I mean by all this, because I really want to. Enjoy this book, and even if you don't let me know your thoughts. Don't be giving this out to people, but-'"

Steve cut himself off again and slammed the book's cover shut, his face flushing even worse than before as he hid his face in his hands.

"What?! What did it say?!" Robin demanded, her hands waving around as she got more excited.

"He gave me his fucking number!" Steve practically screamed, pulling his hands away from his face as he looked at her with a weird smile. "Then he wrote happy birthday and signed his name again! Fuck, I don't know whether to scream or to go back in there and kiss him right on the fucking mouth! This is fucking Twilight Zone levels of insanity and I don't know whether to be happy or terrified!"

"Let's go with happy for right now, he wants to see you again! And all his books are about you! That's so cool! And he wants to see you again! This is definitely a win! I think you should call him tomorrow." Robin said, trying to hype Steve up.

"I don't know..." he said, picking at his sweater sleeve, "What if I make a fool of myself again? I wouldn't even know what to talk about with him. I'd just look dumb."

"I highly doubt he would think so. He practically lit up like a light bulb when he saw you!" Robin said.

"He choked on air when he saw me." Steve deadpanned.

"Yeah, but after that, he lit up! And he told you that his books, which are all romances, are about you! Seriously, you should call him. At least once you finish the book, that way if you don't talk about anything else, you can talk about that!" Robin argued, and Steve reluctantly agreed.

He was finished with the book by that time the next day. He loved it, every word, and he knew from the beginning that it was about him, but it was honestly both weird and heart melting to read his own life (albeit with a different outcome) written down on paper. He remembered the dedication in the book, how Billy said that the happy ending he wrote for Seth and Ben was how he wished things had gone for them back in high school, and finally, Steve buckled.

He called Billy.

[acourtofquestions]

Golden flame danced between her fingers.

Elide recoiled, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"My name is Essar," the female said softly. "I am a friend--of your friends, I believe."

Elide said nothing.

"Cairn is a monster," Essar said, taking a step closer. "Stay far from him."

"I need to find him."

"You played the part of his mistreated lover well enough. You have to know something about him. What he does."

"If you know where he is, please tell me." She wasn't above begging.

Essar ran an eye over Elide. Then she said, "He was in this city until yesterday. Then he went out to the eastern camp." She pointed with a thumb over a shoulder. "He's there now."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not terrorizing the patrons of every fine establishment in this town, glutting himself on the coin Maeve gave him when he took the blood oath."

Elide blinked. She had hoped some of the Fae might be opposed to Maeve, especially after the battle in Eyllwe, but to find such outright distaste...

Essar then added, "And because my sister--the soldier you spoke with--told me. She saw him in the camp this morning, smirking like a cat."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you are wearing Lorcan's shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn's cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will." Elide cocked her head to the side.

Essar said softly, "Lorcan and I were involved for a time."

They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide's gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan's lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan's lover.

"I'll be missed if I'm gone for too long, but tell them who I am. Tell them that I told you. If it's Cairn they seek, that is where he shall be. His precise location, I don't know." Essar backed away a step. "Don't go asking after Cairn at other taverns. He isn't well regarded, even amongst the soldiers. And those who do follow him... You do not wish to attract their interest."

Essar made to turn away, but Elide blurted,

"Where did Maeve go?"

Essar looked over her shoulder. Studied her.

The female's eyes widened. "She has Aelin of the Wildfire," Essar breathed.

Elide said nothing, but Essar murmured, "That was... that was the power we felt the other night." Essar swept back toward Elide. Gripped her hands. "Where Maeve went a few days ago, I don't know. She did not announce it, did not take anyone with her. I often serve her, am asked to... It doesn't matter. What matters is Maeve is not here. But I do not know when she will return."

Relief again threatened to send Elide crumpling to the ground. The gods, it seemed, had not abandoned them just yet.

But if Maeve had taken Aelin to the outpost where they'd lied that the Valg prince had been contained...

Elide gripped Essar's hands, finding them warm and dry. "Does your sister know where Cairn resides in the camp?"

For long minutes, then an hour, they had talked.

Essar left and returned with Dresenda, her sister. And in that alley, they had plotted.

Elide finished telling Rowan, Lorcan, and Gavriel what she'd learned. They sat in stunned silence for a long minute.

"Just before dawn," Elide repeated. "Dresenda said the watch on the eastern camp is weakest at dawn. That she'd find a way for the guards to be occupied. It's our only window."

Rowan was staring into the trees, as if he could see the layout of the camp, as if he were plotting his way in, way out.

"She didn't confirm if Aelin was in Cairn's tent, though," Gavriel cautioned. "Maeve is gone--Aelin might be with her, too."

"It's a risk we take," Rowan said. A risk, perhaps, they should have considered.

Elide glanced to Lorcan, who had been silent throughout. Even though it had been his lover who had helped them, perhaps guided by Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped off by the scent on Elide's clothes.

"You think we can trust her?" Elide asked Lorcan, though she knew the answer.

Lorcan's dark eyes shifted to her. "Yes, though I don't see why she'd bother."

"She's a good female, that's why," Rowan said.

At Elide's lifted brow, he explained, "Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met Aelin." He cut a glare toward Lorcan. "And asked me to tell you that she sends her best."

Elide hadn't seen anything that came close to pining in Essar's face, but gods, she was beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan had let her go, somehow.

[alollinglaughingcat]

i have so many kittens rn its silly so i made a gallery of some (some!) of my cats' ages XD

Frito is a bottlefed kitten I just picked up today, alongside their three siblings, Cheeto, Dorito, and Lay. They're 3 weeks old

Maya is a stray kitten my mom found outside three days ago, and she's a bit older than a month old, around 5-6 weeks old

Checkers is my long-term foster kitten, whom I've had since she was 2 months old, and she's now 8 months old about. I also fostered her sister, California, for a month. Checkers had a bad reaction to fluids (or the needle was contaminated) that caused her skin to split open, and she's got a few months left of healing to go!

Mac n Cheese is my wobbly syndrome cat, whom I've had since she was 6 weeks old and I swore was still under a year but she's actually a month over at 1 year, 1 month! :O time flies!!! my baby's so fat now!

Gizmo, not pictured, is another cat I have, who's about 2 years and a half now. Very smart and knows sit, high five, and spin! :) My mom also found him as a stray, same age as Maya, and he gave all my cats (and me) ringworm lmao

Princington and Battle Axel were two cats I also had who are now deceased and they were the same age, only about a week apart, and would both be 3 and a half years by now (Prince died at 1 year, Axel at ~2)

Tweetie aka Sweetie aka Angel is a cat I've had since childhood, so I can't remember her exact age. She was born on my grandma's farm, and we took her and Tommy aka Mustard (now deceased) when they were weaned off their mom, so about the 5-6 week mark

Sheldon is another cat I have, big fatto, and my mom fostered him since he was a bottle baby and kept him because he had anger issues and she feared no one would take him and he'd get euth'ed. He's about 9-11 years, I'm not sure of when he came into the picture even though I remember him as a kitten

Shadow is our old boy, somewhere in the 14-16 year old range. His ears are all fucked cause he got something like a hematoma in them and blood burst. He's a good boy but hell at the vet, so since the ears aren't lethal/painful, we didn't do much past give him meds for infection and clean his ears. He has a sister named Macaroni who is very chill and does not look as old as Shadow does lol

Also had a cat named Princess and another named Misty before them, but only faded memories :)

I had hamsters (Digger, Gumball) and guinea pigs (Marvin, Sweetflower) previously as well, had a rabbit (Cookie Dough aka NumNum) briefly, and currently have one some-months old hamster named Buster who loves biting people, and two gerbils, Gemini aged 1 year and Mama Virgo a few months older. Gemini had a sister named Libra that previously mentioned California ate. My mom also has ducks, chickens, and guineas

and not to mention our dogs! Shaggy is like a 4 months old sheep-a-doodle, then Adrian the mini pom is like 10 years old, Rocky the Shih Tzu is 12-14 years old, and Sonny the mutt is pushing 19 years old! We previously had a pom named Destiny who died at like 15 and PP aka Penelope the German Shephard mix who died young at 10 years old because of arthritis/other conditions

its going to be so strange going from so many animals to 2-3 cats, 3 critters when i move for college lol

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro thought it would be funny to play an innocent prank on his daughter. He hadn’t meant to make Machi cry. (KuroMahi, Fem Mahiru)

Kuro and Mahiru laid on the couch with her head resting on his chest. A few feet from them, their daughter was sleeping in a baby swing. They were both exhausted because it took them an hour to soothe Machi to sleep. He suggested they have their own nap on the couch. Mahiru agreed and she laid on the couch with him. She kept Machi in the corner of her eyes so she would know the moment she woke up.

While Mahiru wanted to stay awake and watch over Machi, Kuro stroked her hair and the loving gesture almost lulled her to sleep. It was rare for them to find a moment to rest since their daughter was born a few months ago. She couldn’t contain her yawn but she tried to stifle the sound with a hand over her mouth. She didn’t want to wake Machi after she finally convinced her to sleep.

Mahiru grabbed the large blanket that was draped over the couch and she pulled it towards them. She struggled to wrap the cover around them while she was laying on his chest. Kuro took the corner of the blanket and he pulled it over both of them. She pressed her face into his neck and he could feel her lips curve against his skin. “Thanks, Kuro. It has been a long time since we had a lazy Saturday like this.”

“It’s nice. Hyde sent me this video of an owner pranking their cat. Imagine if you tried to pull this trick on me when you still thought I was a cat.” Kuro said and she turned her head so she could see the video. On the screen, a person held a large blanket in front of them. She recognized the trend where people would trick their pets that they disappeared to see how they would react.

“You’re too lazy to react if I tried that prank on you. That would’ve made me suspicious that you were more than just a cat. You really gave me a heart attack when I came home and found a vampire in my apartment.” She giggled when she remembered how she discovered he was a Servamp.

“And you gave me a few bruises with your broom.” He retorted but there was a small smile on his lips. The day that they met, Kuro planned to live as her pet. He assumed that she would never accept someone like him. He was thankful that she found him that day and accepted him as he was.

The cat in the video suddenly screeched and Kuro rushed to lower the volume of his phone. However, the sound woke Machi and she started to cry. Mahiru rolled off Kuro’s chest and she gracefully landed on the ground in front of the baby swing. The moment Machi saw her mother, she reached out to her for comfort and Mahiru gently took her hands.

“We’re sorry that we woke you, Machi. Everything’s okay so you can go back to sleep.” Mahiru removed the seatbelt from around her waist so she could lift her into her arms. She cradled her tiny body against her shoulder and she patted her back. Behind her, Kuro comforted her as well. He covered his face and then he made a silly face when he lifted his hands.

She laughed and he was glad that he was able to sooth her so quickly. Mahiru sat on the couch and she slowly rocked Machi in her arms to help her fall asleep again. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that she would rather play. Machi waved her arms towards the air and she mimicked the cat meows she heard earlier. She smiled down at her daughter and said: “Between this and how deeply she sleeps, Machi is truly our daughter. Though, she isn’t sleeping diligently like she usually does.”

“Machi ate a lot of strawberries this morning so she might be on a sugar rush. Is that right, Machi?” He sat next to them and he wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist. With his other hand, he lightly tickled her cheek and the touch made her burst into laughter.

“We can play until the sugar rush is gone and she falls asleep.” Mahiru reached towards the playmat with her feet and she pulled it closer to the couch. She placed Machi onto the playmat and her daughter immediately crawled towards the plastic ornaments hanging before her. The playmat had been a gift from her adoptive brother, Tsurugi. She was grateful that Machi had a loving extended family because she knew how difficult it was to be alone at a young age.

“Machi is just like a cat. She goes for the shiniest toy.” Kuro watched Machi explore the small world of their living room. An idea came to him and he picked up the blanket from where they left it on the couch. He mimicked the video his brother sent him and he stood in the doorway. He caught her attention by waving the blanket at her.

“Pa play.” Machi called his name with a bright smile before she dropped her toy and crawled towards Kuro. He held the large blanket over his body and she was confused for a moment. She assumed that he was playing peek-a-boo with her and she searched for where he would appear. She stopped a few feet in front of the blanket and she tilted her head curiously.

Suddenly, the blanket dropped but she couldn’t see Kuro. Machi hurriedly crawled to the blanket and she almost tripped over herself in her rush. Mahiru caught her before she could be hurt and she was surprised when her daughter tried to push her hands away. She placed her on the ground and Machi patted the ground as if she were searching for something.

Since she was a child without object permanence, she thought he had disappeared. Machi was too young to communicate her words to her and she could only cry with her face buried in the blanket. Kuro was able to understand her emotions and he ran back into the room. He knelt on the blanket and he picked up his daughter.

“I’m right here, Machi.” Kuro reassured her. She clung to him and he could feel her tears soak through his shirt. He hadn’t intended to scare her with the small trick but he felt guilty that he caused her to cry. Machi’s hands were small but they tightly gripped the chain around his neck. She looked up at him with her eyes swimming in tears, fear and frustration. He thought of how she resembled Mahiru a lot with her expressive brown eyes.

Mahiru stood next to them and she tenderly wiped the tears from Machi’s cheek. “Neither Papa nor Mama will ever disappear from your life, Machi. You’re our pride. Even when we have to leave, we’ll come home with a big smile. That’s what superheroes do.”

[dragonmuse]

i don’t remember if someone has asked this already, but does Lucius stay in contact with his mother after coming out to her? do Pete and/or Izzy ever meet her? and does Izzy ever tell Lucius about the weird “dream” thing he had when he was concussed?

(I have sideways answered to some extent because Lucius' mom will play a part soon in the mainverse [I got a lot done on chapter two of the regency au today so yay! block gone there].

The second question though I have been asked before, but not formally so...let's unlock that shall we? )

It was raining. Something about the gloom and the distant pounding of a headache made Izzy a little sick to his stomach. He had Sweeney in his lap, but the brush had gone still, poised in the air above waiting fur. 

“Goblin? Iz?  Izzy,” someone said and it took him a second to come back to himself. 

“Hm?” Right, the brush. The cat. He went back to the short strokes that Sweeney would generally allow, working out the last of the winter fur blow out. Lucius was standing in front of him, brow furrowed. 

“You okay?” 

“Head’s going again,” he admitted. 

“You want me to get your meds?” 

“Already took ‘em. Should start working soon.” 

“When?” 

“In the bathroom a few minutes ago.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

“Got distracted, sorry, pup.” 

“S’okay, you just freaked me out a little,” Lucius sighed and sat down beside him. He took the brush out of Izzy’s hand and set it aside. “You want to tell me why you blue screened just now?” 

Izzy dropped his hand into Sweeney’s fur in lieu of the brush. With the years of good food and care, Sweeney had grown a very plush coat. Izzy let soft strands run through his fingers. 

“When I got the concussion, I had this...dream. Thing.” 

“Okay?” 

“And it comes back sometimes. Not like..I’m not hallucinating, but I think I remember a part of it. Or a feeling. And it was really...really fucking real feeling. You ever have a dream like that?” 

“Sometimes,” Lucius nodded. “I remember parts of them. A boat sometimes. I don’t know why. I don’t even like the ocean much.” 

“They never make sense. But this one kind of did. It was like...like a fucking story or something.” 

“You were pretty deep under. Maybe that was your brain’s way of coping. Tell me about it?” 

“Other people’s dreams are boring.” 

“Goblin. Come on. It’s not like you usually tell me what you dream about.” 

“Because it’s boring nonsense.” 

“But this isn’t?” 

Izzy frowned, but then had to nod. “It was different.” 

He started slowly. Predictably Lucius interrupted here and there with questions. 

“Wait, so I show up like a femme fatale?” He grinned. “Aw, I’m flattered.” 

“You looked good in the suit,” Izzy told him because it wasn’t like a lot of good was happening after that. 

“Oh yeah? There’s my next Halloween costume sorted out then. So what’s the job?” 

The more Izzy talked, the more intent Lucius seemed to become, questions falling away into a deep silence. It would’ve been alarming, but Izzy found the more he talked, the more it came back to him and he was barely in the room at all. He was standing in an alley that reeked of garbage or walking down broken sidewalks, his heart beating too fast or sitting at the counter of Mary’s diner inhaling cheap coffee. 

“So I gave over the evidence and then...then things started to break down.” 

Lucius waited, but when Izzy said nothing more, he spurred him on, “What do you mean they broke down?” 

“I think it was when Jim showed. I was trying to wake up or something.” 

“And?” 

“I saw...something. Someone. I ran after them. And the world was just falling apart.” 

“Okay. So you woke up?” 

And Izzy could say ‘yes’ because he had soon after that. Woke up to pain and queasiness and Lucius’ voice calling him home.  But he tried not to lie these days, unless he had to. Especially not to Lucius. 

“It was...fuck...It was so...” Izzy huffed in annoyance, the words eluding him.  

“Must’ve been bad.” 

“No,” Izzy slowly rubbed Sweeney’s good ear between his fingertips, the cat purring deeply. “It was good. I just...it’s so fucking pathetic. That my brain would go there. All of it was.” 

“Hey, don’t be mean to your brain,” Lucius put an arm over the back of the couch, caging Izzy in a little. 

“I saw Faith,” he sighed. “I mean, of fucking course I did since my brain was fucking determined to feed me every cliche piece of shit going.” 

“Oh wow... like full on?” 

“I didn’t realize it was her or maybe it wasn’t her entirely...dunno. But she told me to wake up.” 

“Aw, your girl looking out for you,” Lucius kissed his temple. “Not a bad thing.” 

“Wasn’t her,” he sighed. “Wasn’t anything real.” 

“You had a lot of details in there for a dream,” Lucius pointed out. “You were really in it.” 

“I think...” he trailed off. 

“What, goblin?” Lucius prodded. 

“It made me think of people blabbing about seeing the light.” 

“...yikes,” Lucius shifted closer. Sweeney yawned and jumped down off Izzy’s lap, apparently over the entire scene. “You were okay though. You were always going to be okay.” 

Izzy thought about those last few seconds. The words Faith had said that he couldn’t bring himself to repeat. Not to himself, let alone to Lucius. 

Don’t make me a thief.  

He’d almost followed. He’d almost done that. He had just been so goddamn tired. 

“I’m all right now,” he agreed. “Headache is even mostly gone.” 

“Hey, look at the meds doing what they’re meant to do,” Lucius smiled. “I don’t know much about dreams or anything. But I can get why it’d linger. And I’m glad that even in your weirdest nightmares, I’m still hanging out and flirting with you.” 

Izzy laughed. What else could he do? 

“Yeah, pup. Guess I can’t imagine a world that doesn’t happen in.” 

“Of course you can’t,” Lucius said smugly. “One doesn’t exist. I’ll always flirt with you.” 

The headaches dissipated slowly over time. They never quite went away, but days between became weeks then months. But no matter how long they went away, they always returned with tinges of memory. Grey skies, red lightning and a lady in red. Lucius always knew after that too and he would bring Izzy back with teasing and a neck massage to will away the pain. 

Izzy’s subconscious could keep it’s Spriggs, who was never quite real enough. He’d take Black any day over him.

[thegoodsinblog]

Brooklyn's Journey [3]

Summary: This story centers around a woman, Brooklyn, in her mid-20s who enjoys the company of others and lives her life as she sees fit. One day, she decides to explore her sexuality after having several not-so-satisfying experiences.

In this chapter, Brooklyn and Charity discuss their roommate and her not-so-great behavior.

Word Count: 1,040

Reading Time: ~4m

Warning: None

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Chapter 3: Clingy Much?

Charity took a deep breath before she began her story. “Well, as you know, Sarah was in town for a few days, so naturally, I wanted to spend time with her. It’s rare that I ever get to see her, you know.”

 I nodded.

“So, we made plans to go to that pub you like on 17th. I told her it was the Brooklyn hotspot,” she giggled. “Anywho, Sharon asked me the other day if I wanted to go bowling with her the same day I planned with Sarah. I told her I couldn’t because I already had plans to spend time with a very dear friend of mine. 

“When I tell you she was visibly upset ….” Charity shook her head. Without interrupting her and wanting to hear more, she continued, “Then she was like, ‘She can come too if she’d like.’ And I was like, 'No, we’ve already made plans to go out. We’re actually going to a pub.’ Then she said she’d tag along.”

“But you didn’t invite her,” I stated. 

“Right,” Charity answered.

“And she thought she could just invite herself and third wheel? So typical.”

Charity nodded. “I told her I just wanted it to be the two of us because it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and I really wanted to bond with her and make the most of this visit. Brooklyn, she was so mad. Like, so upset.”

“Girl,” I began, “don’t pay her ass any mind. You just do you. I don’t know why she is always up your ass. Maybe she likes you.” I laughed.

“Honestly, I think she does. Why else would she act that way? It’s becoming too stressful and unmanageable at this point. Like, being around her is just taxing now, and I’ve noticed that I try to avoid her when I can.”

Oh, this was getting bad. At first, I thought Sharon and Charity were close. They always took walks and hung out together. Then, a couple weeks ago, Charity said something about Sharon always wanting to be in her space even when she needed alone time. She and I were the same regarding our alone time, so I understood how important it was to her. So, I knew Sharon was clingy and loved being around Charity all the time, but I did not realize the severity of it. I gave the universe a quick thanks that I did not have to go through this.

“Have you said anything to her? You know, sit her down and tell her that you need space?”

Charity exhaled. “I’ve tried, but she gets so defensive. I just try to ignore her. It’s the only thing I can think of since being an adult about this isn’t working.”

“I mean,” I started, “she’s definitely not the most mature person, so I figured she’d be upset when you mentioned it, but I thought she would at least respect your boundaries. Oh boy!”

We were silent for a moment as we continued to eat our breakfast. The faint sound of Sharon and her boyfriend of the week climaxing made its way to our ears. I looked out the window and saw the neighbor’s cat, Stinker, sitting on the porch looking at us. Then I noticed the sun shining brightly outside and the birds chirping. It was such a beautiful day.

“Do you work today?” I finally broke the silence.

“I don’t, actually!” Charity said cheerily.

An idea came to me. “Would you like to get away for the day? Maybe just chill out somewhere. You know, just a little escape from …” I trailed off as I looked toward the stairs.

Charity caught my drift and nodded.

“Cool! Maybe we could go to Monique’s and see what she’s up to,” I suggested.

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe she is off. I could be wrong, but that’s the vibe I got from her post this morning,” Charity said. “I’ll text her.”

Charity:

Hey Monique! You workin' today????

Monique:

Naw gurl! I’m chillin' today. What you up to, boo?

Charity:

Brooklyn and I wanna get away from our crazy roommate for the day. We may want to see your face, too. Whadya say? 😉

Monique:

I’m down

Charity:

Cool! We’ll see you in 30. Your place.

Monique:

Bet

“Monique is off. I told her we’d be there in thirty minutes.”

“Fabulous!” I was excited to see our friend. “I’ll throw on something comfortable yet presenting, and then we can head out.”

“And I will put the dishes in the dishwasher and change as well,” Charity said. 

We had to make haste since it was only a matter of time before Sharon would notice we were gone. Usually, if her company spent the night, she’d like to get one more romp in before they left. I rushed, assuming it was their last romp before his departure. I put on my Maryland University sweatsuit, grabbed my pink mini-cat backpack and keys, and ran to the stairs. As I descended the stairs, I could hear Sharon’s bathroom door open and the sounds of kissing. 

I went to Charity's room and gave the door a quick knock before I walked in. I didn’t bother to wait for a response. We were friends, after all. 

“They just exited the bathroom,” I spoke into my wrist like a secret agent. “We maybe have ten minutes before the temp boo thang leaves. Then, the ambush. 10-4!”

Charity giggled at me as she tossed a shirt over her head and slung her arms through the sleeves. Then she spoke into her wrist. “Uh oh! My slow ass! I think I can make it, though. 10-4!”

“Copy that! Over and out!” I said.

“Over and out!” said Charity.

We laughed at each other as Charity searched her room for her bag and keys. 

“Alright! I’ve got everything. We taking my car or yours?” Charity asked.

“Let’s take mine,” I said. “I feel like I ever use it to go to work and back.”

Charity and I made haste to the back door, and as we closed the door behind us, we could hear footsteps descend the stairs. 

“Looks like we missed them by a hair,” I said with a grin.

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Author's Note: No smut this time around! Maybe next time. 😉 Thank you for taking the time to read this, and as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are welcome.

[sydthetiel]

It’s Sydney shaming time (in jest, of course. I love this baby with my whole heart. As much as she loves food!) 

Because of the sudden loss of appetite a few weeks ago, I’ve been only giving the princess a single scoop and seeing how long it takes her to eat it (roughly 3-4 days.) I feel as though she’s gotten it down to 2 now, thankfully, so she’s feeling better. However, she’s such a drama queen!

I took a nap today. I had an audition, and did some basic chores, so I zonked out after the audition. In that time frame, the princess finished her food. When I woke up, she was sitting on her food dish, all puffed up and barely responding to me. Naturally, this was cause for concern. I got worried and started to panic. When I stood, she decided to go back onto her perch. I took a peek, and she was out of food (she still had some before I zonked, so it’s not like I’m starving her.)

I went to get myself a quick bite because I was hypoglycemic, and I gotta take care of me to take care of her. If I’m too shaky, this little escape artist could slip right past me and get hurt, so I had to fuel myself first. She went about her usual business of screaming her head off the second I was out of her sight, but chilled out while I was eating. I came back, gave her her scoop of food. She went to town, munching happily.

She’s fine. She’s behaving fine. She’s feeling fine. She did, however, guilt trip the shit out of me to make me feel bad because I didn’t refill her bowl the second she finished it. She legit pretended to be sick and made me worry about her, all for a scoop of food. She sulked, as if she hasn’t eaten in days. She has an appointment tomorrow for her third doxy injection, and the vet isn’t in, so it’s being done by the vet tech. I was seriously worried that I wouldn’t even be able to have her checked out, because I sure don’t have specialist/ER money.

This girl, man. Such a character. Such a drama queen. It’s not the first time she’s played possum. I’m still probably going to bring this up with the vet tech tomorrow, but seriously, I did not need to be worrying like this today. Why’s she so mean to me? T-T When the fuck did I get a cat? I’m allergic to cats! She gives Miette a run for her money, I think. Someone should make Syd a meme, I swear.

Photo below provided for meme making purposes, if anyone wants to do the thing lmao I feel like this shows how much she loves her food. Maybe turning her into a meme could help us raise more money for her healthcare. She does need to see a specialist next week for a follow-up, her 4th doxy, and a hormone suppressant (whether it’s a lupron injection, or an implant. Is that the right word? gods idk anymore. This bird dad is way too tired to function.) so that visit is going to be like $200+. AND I still need to get my van fixed and I really don’t think it’s covered under warranty, so it’s gonna be like, $100+ just for that, and more for the inspection. AND I need to get her a small hospital cage to get her better, and they’re anywhere from $50-$150 for a small one.

Make her a meme to earn us both money to survive? Don’t like this photo? Feel free to go through her other photos and make memes of those!

Sydney Meme Making contest, and GO! (maybe I’ll figure out some sort of prize for best Syd meme.)

[nostarfights]

Intertwined

Pairing: Eddie Munson X fem!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie explore each other’s bodies a bit while cuddling in bed after a long day. 

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, cuddling, kissing, mentions of scars and stretch marks

Word Count: 1.3k

a/n: lol this kinda sucks but i hope y'all like this anyway!

the gif below does not belong to me

While you sat up in you and Eddie’s bed late one Friday night reading, a smile slowly appeared on your face as a curly head of hair appeared in your peripheral vision. “Hi, pretty boy.” you said as you placed your bookmark back in the book you were reading and set it down on your bedside table. “Hi, princess. I missed you today.” he replied, quickly leaning over to press a light kiss to your lips as he got comfy next to you in bed, now just wearing a pair of boxers after the shower he just took. You giggled a little at his sweet actions, happy that he was back in bed with you, “I missed you too, Eds.” you told him. 

And once the two of you were settled, Eddie opened his arms whilst you looked over at him with a smile still on your face. Those comforting arms of his that were now open beckoned you over to your favorite place to rest in the world, his chest.

Without either of you saying a single word and within the blink of an eye, you quickly dimmed the lights then climbed into Eddie’s warm, inviting arms. As you laid down on his chest, this is when you truly let all your stress and worries of the day completely dissolve into nothingness for the first time that entire evening.

Cuddling with Eddie in your bed after you had both had a long, tiring day was genuinely your favorite thing to do in the entire world. You were without doubt, each other’s safe havens and that would never change for as long as you lived. 

You then started to gaze up into Eddie’s eyes as you spoke again, “How was your day, my love? I wanna hear all about it.” you asked, soft smiles slowly reappearing on both of your faces while he pulled you even closer to him. And without a single second passing, Eddie immediately went into an in depth story about his day and everything that had gone on today at his job as a mechanic at the local auto shop.

He told you about how some woman had to drop off her car for five days because her husband had incorrectly attempted to repair it for her, which ended up causing more damage. How the shop cat named Wrench was doing and how she recently gave birth to four kittens that she had brought with her to the shop. And how he thought he might be getting a promotion soon because his boss had been hinting at it for a few days now. 

You listened to every single detail of the stories Eddie told you tonight. The way he told stories was one of the things you loved most about him. The details and depth he included as well as the way he spoke truly captivated you in every bit of the word. He was incredible at storytelling and while you knew that he wanted to pursue music, you hoped deep down that he would write a book someday, knowing that it would be incredible just like the stories he told you each night and the campaigns he created. 

And once he was done talking, he encouraged you to tell him about your own day and all the things that happened throughout it. Which you started doing immediately just like Eddie had not too long ago. It warmed his heart to see just how similar the two of you had become since you started dating two and a half years ago.

And while you told him about your day, Eddie gazed into your eyes and softly stroked the scars and stretch marks on your thighs and sides. He silently admired how beautiful every part of your body was as he listened closely to your own stories from the day that had passed. Wondering how you got the scars he could feel spread out across your soft skin. 

Moments later when you had finished telling Eddie about your day, he began to run his index finger along a scar on your thigh again, “How’d you get this one, pretty girl?” he quietly asked you, still looking deeply into your eyes as he just felt you. “What? The scar on my thigh?” you asked him in return, at first a bit confused as to what exactly he was talking about. He softly nodded at that, “I noticed it a while ago and I wanna hear about how you got it.” he asked you, making you smile.

His curiosity of the world and the people in it was another thing you loved most about him. It showed how observant he was of everything and how no one or nothing went unnoticed when he was around. 

Your smile easily started to become brighter as you started to talk to Eddie again, your eyes now looking at your hand in Eddie’s, “Sure, Eddie, I’ll tell you about how I got that scar,” you said, a little chuckle escaping your lips before you actually started this next story, “Basically, one day five years ago, a while before we even met…” As you told this story and your legs became intertwined with Eddie’s, he felt himself falling in love with you all over again. On the inside and out, you were just absolutely gorgeous in every way. 

And as you laid there together, this became the first time Eddie had realized that he had been falling in love with you all over again every single day since the day he met you. You were just so easy to love and you thought the exact same of him. You had been so deeply in love with him ever since that day nearly four years ago when Dustin had first introduced you to Eddie. 

“I love you so much, baby.” he whispered against your skin with a gentle kiss to your temple, making you blush. “I love you too, Eds.” you whispered back to him while you traced your fingers along Eddie’s own scars. Your fingers settled on a particular one in his inner elbow that had left a bit an indent in his warm, pale skin.

“Your turn, pretty boy. How’d you get this one?” you asked him while another smile rolled out across your lips and you pressed a quick kiss to the scar there. The feeling of your lips against his skin made Eddie smile as bright as the sun while some goosebumps appeared on his arms and he began his own scar related story. 

And while he spoke, it was now your turn to feel yourself falling in love with Eddie all over again and to admire him. To relish in all the love he showed you every single day and how grateful you were for the fact that he was your lover and best friend all wrapped up in one sweet person.

He was perfect and beautiful to you in every single way and even though you knew he would never accept this kind of compliment. It was true. 

–Time Skip: An hour later–

For both of you, exploring each other’s bodies and telling one another different stories about each scar on your bodies was such a loving experience for both of you. And in a way, this night was very healing as well.

It reminded you that even when you felt insecure, there would always be someone there to love you and all of your imperfections. To remind you that you are beautiful and loveable. And you vowed to yourself right then and there that you would always do the same for Eddie for the rest of your lives.

And while you and Eddie fell asleep that night, the lights still dimmed, a day that had originally been a very tiring one, easily turned into a good one for both of you. 

NAVIGATION

[guyfieriii]

Domestic Ghost..The way you’ve written it. The sense of slow burn. Slowly, gradually building into something. He’s leaving bits of him behind with her, THAT JUST MAKES ME WANT TO RIP MY HEART OUT.

Ghost—Simon Riley—comes and goes like an undomesticated alley cat wandering around until he lets himself inside your flat for however long he plans on staying. HE REALLY IS LIKE A CAT IN EVERY SENSE. Takes a while to get comfortable, but when he does, he’s just all in your space.

and tried to remain professional when his voice growled his affirmative in shades of smoke and violence in your ear. She has more strength than I would. I’d just accidentally let out a moan.

He feels entirely out of place in this world, and yet—You can't imagine him anywhere else. Yep. That’s who he is. Ghost.

A moor. Wide, endlessly deep, but uncrossable. Untraversable.Christ, this imagery. SPOT FUCKING ON, MY FRIEND.

(Is he even real? Or did the endless dunes of decay conjure him up in grains of sand, and rot?) You know what I want to do? Go through everything you’ve written for Ghost. Find all such lines. Different ways you’ve used to describe him, his aura. Make a list. And be buried with it.

(It took him a year to fuck you on your bed.) I am unwell.

His presence is erased. The only thing that confirms it wasn't a dream is the burn between your legs, the quiver in your knees, and the bruises along your hips and thighs in the perfect impression of his large hands. 

This is how that made me feel.

It's something to quench the inescapable sense of ennui when you leave the building after playing with the lives of the men on the field, and hear mothers chatting in the train about the mundanity of life. This gave me whiplash.

Does he come to you because there are no other options for a man who died years ago? Are you—Convenient. 

"I guess it's a good thing I came home when I did—""Yeah, it is." Someone’s in TROUUUUUUBLEEEEEE

"I'd have ripped him limb from limb for touchin' you." 

She truly is better than me, cuz I’d just-

"What do you want? Want me to show my face? That it?" Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Would you have been this desperate for him?" I’ve said it once. I’ve said it ten times. I’ll say it again. POSSESSIVE JEALOUS SIMON RILEY IS EVERYTHING TO ME.

Simon has been rough in the past—often leaving you feeling like the victor of a well-fought war—but that always came after what felt like hours of foreplay.

The noise I made after reading this-

"I want to," he hisses; water doused on flaming coal. The grit of his voice is saturated in sin, and the sound makes your eyes roll. "Wanna break you open until nothin' fits inside this pretty cunt but me." Christ. This smut is making me question things about myself. As you’ve made me do several times the past few days. GODDAMN IT.

No words were exchanged. You ate cawl on the couch and tried to pretend you didn't see the hungry look in his eyes when you caught his gaze on the pearlescent smear staining your thighs. Oh GOD. I’m seeing stars.

The seams split; the levee cracks. Alexa, play “When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin”

warm milk, wet nickles, and clove. Love how you drive my sense of smell insane just from reading your work.

"Ghost ain't the one still buried deep inside of you, pet."

YES. EXACTLY. HE’S SIMON WITH HER. WATCH ME GO CRY IN A CORNER.

"You can't just abuse me with your dick to shut me up. You know it's my weakness." HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM????

"I'll be—;" he pauses, inhaling once more: "—back soon. No promises." Back home soon. HE IS SO SOFT.

Inside the solitary holder, another brush has taken residence beside yours. You stare at the two brushes in the rusting cup, heart thudding in your chest. 

I need 10-14 business days to recover from this, thanks.

THANK YOU FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL TREAT!

Hiii I LOVED your fic with soap I’ve read it like 5 times since I found it yesterday, your writing is absolutely STUNNING and the characterization for Soap was spot on. If you have any free time I would love a Ghost fic like Soap’s— domestic, fluff, SMUT, and a little angst. I feel like Ghost would be a tender, giving lover if given the chance to be truly comfortable with someone. Anyway, if not, I just wanted to say your writing is some of the best I’ve ever read and it inspired me to pick up my own pen and start writing again :)

hi! @madiganjay and thank you so much!! 🖤😭 that's so sweet and i'm sooo sorry this took so long! i have no excuses just Ghost + Domestic Fluff had me oscillating between several different ways this could go. to me, the idea of domesticity with Ghost is permanence and presence. something tangible that confirms his existence, that ties him to you.

i tried my best at domestic Ghost, so i don't know if this is quite what you had in mind, but i hope you enjoy it!! this is nearly 8k of Ghost Doing His Best™️

⇾ warnings: gendered reader, female!reader, gendered anatomy; unfettered filth (as per usual); slightly possessive!Ghost, jealous!Ghost; unsafe sex

"Brought curry." It's not much of a greeting—no hello, how are you? How was your day?—just: "didn't have lamb, so I got chicken." 

On the television in front of him, a game between Everton and Manchester United plays. Streaks of red and blue dart across the sprawling field of green. Takeout is spread out on your coffee table—curry for him, butter chicken for you; he got you salted Lassi, too. The white drink sits on the table beside the styrofoam containers, dripping condensation down the clear plastic cup. The colours catch in the clear polymer. Neon smears in milky white. 

Its—

Salt pools between your teeth; your lips sting. "You—," your voice breaks over the word; a tendril of embarrassment curls inside of your guts, admixing the alcohol you'd just finished drinking with Gaz. You flush, clear your throat. "I wasn't expecting you."

It's a stupid thing to say, in retrospect. You never expect him, and you suppose that's the point. Ghost—Simon Riley—comes and goes like an undomesticated alley cat wandering around until he lets himself inside your flat for however long he plans on staying. 

There is no routine in this. No set schedule; nothing was ever painted in concrete, just shades of sporadic abstracts. He comes, he goes. Ephemeral visits only a handful of times a year. 

It's the fourth—year, that is. 

The weight of it sat in your stomach for weeks. Knots spool together until a clump forms in the pit. Heavy and noxious; it leaked poison into your bloodstream that carried the illness of want in a particularly nasty shade of green. 

Four years since Price had dragged you—an office worker on loan from HQ—to a sparse room in a country you'd never been to before, and you set your eyes on the interrogator known, then, only as Ghost. 

(Terrorism never sleeps, Price always says. 

Whenever he's around, neither do you.)

The walls were painted in rust. The stench of wet pennies and sweat filled the air. None of that mattered, though, when you looked up, and caught liquid sin gazing at you from wide, red-rimmed eyes. 

(Maybe, he doesn't sleep, either.)

You fed him information through an earpiece as you scoured and decoded the rudimentary messages in the text the enemy sent to each other, and tried to remain professional when his voice growled his affirmative in shades of smoke and violence in your ear. 

Hours later, exhausted and craving something to keep you from wishing the world was constructed by the hand of solipsism, you leaned against the window, desperately trying to pretend you were the same person you were yesterday. 

Lidded eyes swept across the vast expanse in front of you—barren lands, badlands: wartorn and deadly, and littered with carrion. You tried to stop your hands from shaking by curling them into fists, but all it did was puncture your palm, and fill your nails with sticky blood. 

It didn't work— nothing did.

You sunk your teeth into your knuckles to stop the quiver in your joints. 

War is much different in person than it is on a blue screen. Numbers—friends, foes, coordinates, codes—are much easier to stomach when they're all in binary. A marker on your desktop goes down, disappears from the black map in front of you, and you pick up your earpiece, calling it into evac, and click on another to follow, to relay commands in code.

One life is gone, enemy or friend, and you sip your expensive coffee (£5.6 but the logo is cute, and beans are robust) while staring at the pictures dotting the navy blue fabric of the pre-owned cubicle. Docile. Mundane. You glance at the clock, and wait for the hour to pass until you can leave, and spend the rest of the evening watching shows. 

You think once, perhaps thrice, about the men in green who will never get the chance to come home again, but it's smothered when your coworker leans over the metal divider, asking if you want anything from Greggs. 

A game of chess with real people. 

(You slept rather soundly before this. Now, binary numbers make you tremble.)

The worn wood behind you creaks. 

Price, you think, forcing a smile that doesn't fit. Neither do the fatigues. The stench of rot in your nose. The gun they shoved into your hands. 

"I'd kill for a coffee, sir."

When you turn, you're met with the endless yawning of night condensed in circles framed by pale flaxen. A storm in the middle of a wheat field. Stalks of yellow smatter across midnight blue. 

Ghost. 

There is a moment of nothing where he simply tips his chin, baleen lines bunching together, and stares at you. It's unnerving. Eerie. He feels entirely out of place in this world, and yet—

You can't imagine him anywhere else. 

His stare is heavy. He blinks his eyes shut. You breathe again. They slide open. The air is siphoned from your lungs. 

A chasm sits in his gaze. You find the heft isn't entirely unpleasant.

Then, he shifts. Shadows flexing in the limited light. A car driving down the street, headlight burning the tenebrose until it dances, scattering across your room. He moves like liquid in the dark. 

"Coffee won't help," is all he says. Impassive. Pragmatic. But his eyes—

Your throat is acrid. Sand gathers in wet clumps against your larynx. You swallow, and taste Yorkshire Gold. Pennies. 

"Any suggestions about what might, then?"

It takes him two steps to get to the window to your four. His size is—

Immeasurable. 

He's a man, you think, and yet—

It's not so much the sheer bulk of him, the height, but rather the way he carries himself. There is a presence about him that makes him feel bigger, more dangerous. He knows his heft and uses it to his advantage. He takes up space until you feel smothered by his proximity, but—

You don't think anyone else has ever felt more distant. 

A moor. Wide, endlessly deep, but uncrossable. Untraversable. Mouldering signs are pitched in the recesses of his eyes when they slide to you, liquid black pooling in the corner, and they all say: stay away. 

(Written in red. In blood.)

"A few," he offers. His gaze drifts back to the grime-streaked window. "Nothing legal."

"Oh," you mutter, blinking. You can't tell if it's a joke or not. 

"Get some tea. It'll calm your nerves."

"I'm not—," you start but his eyes drop to your hands, clenched by your sides, and shaking. Beads of crimson gather in the cup, pooling in your lifeline. Guilty, then. 

He leaves you by the window, and you watch his broad back retreat through the arched doorway. A layer of sand fluttered under his boots. No prints. 

(Is he even real? Or did the endless dunes of decay conjure him up in grains of sand, and rot?)

You find the stash of tea (Price muttering something behind you about Gaz drinking all the bloody English Breakfast), and in the loose, dried leaves of brown, black, and fawn, you find yourself thinking of him. 

Four years later: he's still on your mind. 

"I was out with—"

"Garrick." 

"Gaz," you say instinctively. Only Laswell gets away with calling him Kyle. Everything else just sounds wrong. "We went to some club in Essex. I would have come home sooner if I'd known—"

You stop. Teeth sinking into your tongue. Stupid. Stupid. You think of the man in the club with hands that were cold as ice. The irritation you felt toward Gaz when he pulled you away, and shoved you into a taxi. His knuckles knocked on the hood. Don't drive away until you see their door shut, yeah? He slips folded bills into the man's hand through the crack in the window. Message me when you get home. 

You sent the text when your key cut through the hole. Home. Thanks. 

His reply was instant: worry about you sometimes. Get some sleep. 

"Um…thank you for the food. I'm actually starving," you huff, words tumbling out in an effort to stem your accidental faux pas. "We didn't eat before we headed out. I only had a few drinks, but—"

More than a few. Your feet wobble. 

"—Thanks." You wince, adding: "again. It's—it's good to see you—"

Stupid. Stupid. 

He says nothing, but his stare hasn't wavered since you opened the door. An indecipherable Rorschach. Unknowable. Unreachable. 

Four years, and you still have no idea what this is. 

Three months in the desert drinking tea with a behemoth who had an absurd sense of humour, and then—

Home. Goodbye. Price waving you off: a two-finger salute diving off his forehead. Ghost stood on the tarmac of some private, military-owned base. A sleek, black Jeep a few paces away to take you wherever you wanted to go. 

Home, you supposed. You look around and it feels wrong. Stuck in limbo, purgatory. A strange microcosm where the people are the same—the man in the Jeep has a thick Northern accent; his words are rounded, and robust—but the place is different.

Know anything to calm the nerves now that we're home, sir? 

His head tips. A few. None of them are good for you. 

The tea was pretty good advice. 

He'd said nothing. Nothing, nothing—

The man poked his head out the window. "Coming?" 

You offered a shaky smile. See you around, Simon—

You'd slapped your palm against your mouth, eyes darting around the barren void in the middle of needn't know and somewhere in England, and he—

He shuddered. Eyes a polynya. A rumble broke the silence. Low, and—

You turned, hand curling over the handle of the car. You'd gotten it open an inch before his hand slammed on the frame beside the window, the door snapping shut. The force of it rocked the Jeep. 

They're riding with me.

And—

Now: he sits in your home with takeout from the Indian place you like, one you mentioned in passing a year ago. The place with the best raita and spicy chicken biryani. 

The one with a shell-shocked teenager manning the front with a single cook in the back. The register is barely used. They yell your order through a small window to the kitchen, and the cook brings it out himself when he's finished. It always feels a little bit illegal when he hands you the bag, but you're almost certain this man is secretly a Micheline star chef when he isn't condensing samsara into his tandoori. 

Silent, a little tipsy, you toe your shoes off, trying not to make any more of a fool of yourself tonight. You stumble a little, head thick with those stupid sex on the beaches Gaz bought for you, and slowly make your way to the couch.

He hasn't looked away. Not once. 

It's stifling. His presence nearly smothers you. 

It usually isn't this— strange.

The handful of times he'd come around, it was always the same routine, the same dance. He'd be there, bathed in black and searching the alcoves of your flat, and then—on you. Your back against the wall, the hello snuffed out by the bulk of his body pressing into yours, his hands on your thighs, fingers tugging at the hem of your clothing. You'd tumble somewhere: the wall or the floor or the couch more often than not. 

(It took him a year to fuck you on your bed.)

The next morning, he'd be gone. Rising before the sun—if he even slept at all—and off somewhere until late at night. He'd stay a few nights, but those were rare. Usually, it was once. 

One night of brutal fucking where he had on you nearly every surface in your flat, taking, and taking until the sky broke crimson, and your eyes misted over from fatigue. He'd drop you in your bed, and when you woke up, sore and dazed and aching all over—

The bed is cold. Empty. 

His presence is erased. The only thing that confirms it wasn't a dream is the burn between your legs, the quiver in your knees, and the bruises along your hips and thighs in the perfect impression of his large hands. 

I wasn't expecting you, you'd once said. 

His eyes are glued to you. Liquid midnight framed in white. Want me to leave, pet?

They dance with humour, hidden in the shadows of his intense stare, when you trip over yourself in your haste to say no. No, no, please—stay. 

Sometimes, you like to pretend those obsidian edges softened a little at the ache in your voice. The palpable urgency bleeds through. That they regard you with a touch more warmth than before. 

"Alright," he says, and nothing more. Alright. 

It's enough. More than enough, really. It's a miracle a man like Simon would even offer that much considering his life, and who he is. It's more than you'd ever ask for. 

And yet—

(In the darkness of your room, you crumble.)

—you want more. 

More. More—

The butter chicken is warm, and slightly cooled. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. How long had he waited for you? Why did he wait for you? 

You bite the soft, buttered naan to keep yourself from asking those silly questions. 

This whole thing—if it even is a thing—is purely physical. Release. Something to stem the surreal feeling of being back on land where guns aren't being aimed at your head, and artillery fire doesn't clog the atmosphere. The stench of death is replaced by the cold, wet streets of London. The screams of the dying are just honking cars from impatient drivers; the chatter of civilians. 

It's something to quench the inescapable sense of ennui when you leave the building after playing with the lives of the men on the field, and hear mothers chatting in the train about the mundanity of life. 

Anything to calm the nerves. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

And yet: he's sitting on your couch with his mask rolled up to his nose, eating chicken curry while passively watching football on your small television. Your hands brush when you both reach for more naan or roti. Gaze meeting over the Biryani. 

It's different. New. This hasn't ever happened before in the four years since the conception of whatever this is. It's—

Jarring. Bewildering. 

You expect, at some point, for him to stand up, and leave. That intimacy of eating dinner together while he murmurs low about what certain calls, or plays mean to you will break something inside of him, and scare him away. It's soft. Domestic. 

Ghost is untouchable. Unseen. 

But your eyes find the orange sauce smeared on the corner of his mouth. The ashen stubble on his chin, and jaw. The flash of teeth when he brings the dripping piece of curry to his mouth. His jaw working as he chews. The swallow. A flash of red when he tries, and fails, to catch every bit of curry from his lips. 

It's bliss, you find. These small moments when he feels so distinctly human clot in your chest, and you worry that one day the mass will grow to be so big, you will crumble under the weight of it all. 

(Maybe, it's the sex on the beach, the too-sweet rumchata, but the thought makes your stomach burn with anticipation. You want this man to ruin you with the mundane.)

"Finished your dinner?" He asks, eyes sliding to you. 

The meagre food sits like a lump of coal. Your appetite dissolves as your slurried mind struggles to both remain as composed as possible so as not to spook him, and keep all the ugly things you want to say behind the seal of your lips. 

It should just be sex. Fucking. No strings attached. Nothing—

You wonder if it's your life, drenched in a proxy of ordinary, that lures him in. You're not a civilian, but compared to him, you're only a short step above. Is it just—happenstance? Does he come to you because there are no other options for a man who died years ago? 

Are you—

Convenient. 

Something to pass the time. Something that makes him feel human again. 

An evanescent dalliance within the boundaries of having no past, and no future. He isn't jeopardising himself by sneaking into your flat at night to satiate the hunger inside; the need to feel something other than the weight of a gun in his hands, and smell the blood, the smoke, the napalm in the air. 

You work in the same circle. 

He, when he's allowed to exist, on the field; and you, sitting behind a computer screen while you oversee the deaths of others in a sequence of numbers. 

Your hands are too delicate to carry the weight of a gun, to aim and pull the trigger, but he can still feel the same sin when your fingers touch his flesh. 

Not drenched in blood, but stained. 

You're not innocent; he isn't sullying a civilian with his rough hands that reek of gunpowder. 

You exist in that murky limbo he can fall in. Safety lingers in the cartilage of your joints; familiar, and attainable: you know the rules and what he does. You will never look him in the eye and ask why. 

But—you're still dangerous. Covetous. 

More, you think. You want more. 

"I—," you taste malt on your tongue. You didn't drink any, but the taste reminds you of—

Hands on your waist. Warm breath in your ear. Come home with me.

Gaz, suddenly there, eyes blazing. Step off, mate. 

Everton scores: blurs of blue dart across the green, but none of it sticks in the gummy lining of your head. It feels like you're somewhere else. Your body is sitting on the couch; you feel the soft, worn cushion below. The food is heavy on your belly. Eyes grainy from the alcohol you'd drank. 

But you're not here.  

You're adrift in grey matter. Head tilted toward the pink, undulating dome above. Afloat in stagnant molasses. 

"I kissed someone tonight," you murmur. On the screen, a man throws his hands up, words at the bottom blur together. 

The couch creaks when he moves. You can feel his stare on your temple, on you, but you don't meet it. Coward. 

The geyser in the brackish pond rumbles. It tastes of sabotage. 

"I probably would have gone home with them, too, if it wasn't for Gaz."

The roar of the television is the only sound you hear, but it feels distant. Warbled. There is a pounding in your head that starts at the base of your skull. The beat almost sounds like a warning. 

Your hands tighten around the wet plastic cup of the cool salted Lassi. The crinkle it makes drowns out the noise of the cushion shifting under his weight. 

"I guess it's a good thing I came home when I did—"

"Yeah, it is." 

You can't place his tone. Arctic ice. Polar. A Chinook, perhaps. It bites into you, churning the chicken and alcohol in your stomach. 

At least, in the end there would be no questions. No late nights gazing up at the ceiling, or leaning over the sink, peering at yourself in the mirror to make sense of why he picked you. It would just be—

An empty bed. Dinner for one. A single toothbrush in the holder. 

(I bought you a toothbrush. You can leave it in the—

No need. I got my own.)

You huff. "Says you—"

"I'd have ripped him limb from limb for touchin' you." 

His eyes are darker than you'd ever seen them. Black holes. Pooled ink. 

For all your aplomb, your demure under the ire in those alcoves. The ones that leak—impossible—the same covetous spool in your chest. 

"Simon—"

"Where'd he touch you?" 

It's a command.

He reaches out; his palm is blistering when it rests on your bare thigh. 

"Here?"

"Why—?" You shiver. "Why would you tear him—"

Sometimes, you forget how massive he is, but he seems quite eager to remind you when his hand falls on the cushion behind your head, closing that meagre distance between the two of you with his body. He's a shadow looming over you. A gaping chasm that yawns before you. Dangerous and dark. The warning signs are written in blood.

Stay away, they say, but he pushes himself closer to you. 

"I don't share."

"What—what is there to share?" 

His eyes flutter. Hard, unyielding obsidian. In the gaps, sit a near cosmic distance. An unreachable planet on the fringes of the solar system. 

Ashen brows draw together. A cornered animal will lash out, and—

"Thought it was obvious."

You swallow and taste the sea. "It isn't." 

An impasse, then, when he freezes. When his hand burrowing between your thighs halts on your flesh. An uncrossable no man's land. A valley where those who venture seldom return. 

The chossy below your feet wobbles. 

He says nothing. You don't expect him to, but you can't say it hurts any less. 

You knew what you were getting into. What this was. 

Still: 

"Maybe we should stop this."

"That what you want?"

"It's pretty obvious it isn't, and that's the problem. I'm not going to ask for more than you'll give, but—;" a deep breath, a shudder. His thumb brushes your skin, a soft roll of his rough finger, and your heart thrums. Sings. The catch in your voice is thick, palpable. "How can you expect me not to want more?"

"What do you want? Want me to show my face? That it?" His hand raises to the edge of the mask, and something sours inside of you. "If you want to see so—"

Your hand on his wrist stops him from tugging it down. "I don't." Firm, decisive. "I don't want that, Simon. I just want you. And if—;" your eyes flicker to the containers, the half-eaten food on the coffee table. A dinner usually for one. "If you keep doing this—dinner, and—and—"

"I thought you liked butter chicken."

Your chest expands with your exasperated huff. Humour, at a time like this. And yet— "I do. I just meant—"

"I know, pet. I know."

"If you keep this up, I'll want more." You turn to him, hand dropping from his wrist. "I'm greedy. How can I not be when you tell me stupid jokes and bring me curry?"

"I knew you'd like them." 

"Simon—"

Avoidance, then. 

His hand inches down, sliding up your thigh. The loose shorts you'd worn fall to the side, and he slips through until his fingers meet the gusset of your panties.

"You're wet," he husks, leaning down. His forehead pressed to your temple. He smells of turmeric and ash. "That all for me, pet?"

Your thighs spread, giving him more room. His fingers brush along the seam of your clothed cunt. Your chin dips. Charcoal. Midnight black. His lashes are long. The missing coal around his eyes makes them look darker. 

"Always." 

His knuckle presses against your clit, chest brushing over your shoulder. "Better be." 

Lashes flutter when you mewl, arching your back to get more of his touch. Needy, eager. You gasp when his finger crooks inside of your panties, bare skin on your cunt. You’re feverish; burning up from his touch alone. An ache knots in your belly; a spooling coil winding when his knuckle grazes your flesh. His breath is heavy in your ear. 

"C'mon," he murmurs, the tip of his finger drags down the length of your slit. "Haven't had this pussy in months, pet. Need to feel you."

His words made something inside of you snap. 

It's frantic: desperation claws at your chest carrying the urge to sink your teeth in his skin until it punctures with your mark, one that brands his body. The thought alone makes your belly quiver. An ache. A need. An itch. He's there, always: his hands are firm on your waist when you slide into his lap, hips pressing against your core as your fingers tug the buttons of his trousers off. 

Your thighs burn from the stretch of his bulk. The sheer absurdity of how massive he is, and how comparatively small you feel with your knees split apart, is never more apparent than now, when you're barely able to touch the cushion below. 

"Need you," you pant against the skin above the mask. Stubble crests over his cheek, and chaps your lips. "Need you so bad, Simon—"

"Fuck, pet," he breathes, ragged and harsh. His hands are brands on your flesh, pulling you closer, and closer, and yet—at the same time—keeping you at bay. "Would you have been this desperate for him?"

No. Not at all. You haven't been driven to the brink for a man since Simon. No one has ever burrowed deep under your skin until you were itching at the dermis so hard, it broke. It ripped. And the bloodied tatters that remained still weren't enough to quench the burn.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

His snarl is muffled behind the mask, but you feel the bite of it when his hands clench around your hips, jerking you forward until your cunt is nestled on his hard bulge. 

"Gonna fuck you, now." 

The words are ground down to the marrow; stripped and pulverised into dust when they slip through. Broken bones, fragmented ash—he blows the smoke of them into your face until you're reeling from the way they shred your throat and lungs when you breathe them in. 

There is no finesse in the way you tug your panties off, letting them dangle around your ankle. Or the way he shoves his boxers down enough to free his cock. 

It's quick. Dirty. 

Simon has been rough in the past—often leaving you feeling like the victor of a well-fought war—but that always came after what felt like hours of foreplay. His face buried in your cunt. His fingers slowly stretching you for his cock. 

This—

This feels desperate. It feels unhinged and raw. All his meticulous self-control catches fire in front of you until your skin blisters with the heat of it.

His fingers slip under the mask for a moment, and when he carefully pulls them free, they're covered in spittle. 

No lube, no prep—

His thick fingers are on your cunt, slick and wet from his saliva, and they sink inside of you. One right to the last knuckle. Another joins. The stretch makes your toes curl. Makes you drop your head to his shoulder as he works in the third. The lewd sounds of your pussy being hurriedly fucked open by his fingers, palm digging into your clit, makes you burn. 

It's not enough, but you look down and feel desire bloom at the sight of him—his cock is leaking prespend all over your mound, jerking against your belly with each quick thrust of his fingers within you. He pulls his hand away, and smears the wetness across his cock before gripping the base. 

Your eyes are fixed on the pearlescent beads on the fat head, gathering in a thick, milky pool before rolling down the side. It gathers at the clinch of hi thumb and forefinger. Your mouth waters at the sight. 

"Lemme suck your cock after," you slur; it comes out as barely more than a whimper. "Need to taste you—"

His cock jerks in his hold, spitting more prespend down the length of him. 

"Fuckin' hell, pretty thing," he rasps, dragging your hips closer until your cunt is pressed taut against him. The drag of his flared head between your folds makes you keen low in your throat. "You won't even get a chance, pet. If you think I'm pulling out of this tight pussy at all tonight, you're wrong."

It's not a warning, but it's all he gives before his hand grips himself tight, the other clasped around your waist. His urgency bleeds through when his hips lift off the bed. 

It's always an arduous undertaking whenever he sits you in his lap, and slowly feeds the entirety of his thick cock into your quivering body. Sometimes, nearly driven delirious from the intense pleasure-pain that pools in your core, you whisper into his ear that he's going to ruin you, break you down the centre. 

You'll snap me in half, you whimper. 

His response is to force more of himself into your body until you gag on the words in your throat, choke on your spit. 

"I want to," he hisses; water doused on flaming coal. The grit of his voice is saturated in sin, and the sound makes your eyes roll. "Wanna break you open until nothin' fits inside this pretty cunt but me."

"You'd ruin me for everyone else, Simon? That's not fair—" 

Your words make him groan, make him grasp your hips, fingers digging into the swell of your ass. He pulls you down onto him until he's swallowed whole. The air is punched from your lungs. You feel the throb of him in your esophagus. Broken, then, by this man. This untouchable, unattainable being. 

"Fuck—," little hiccups spill from your throat. Your head is a slurry of want want want want and too much too full too big. You can't take him. You needed more foreplay. To be stretched around three fingers until you could fit him soundly. 

This—

This feels a little bit like a punishment. 

"Fuckin' hell," he rasps into your neck. "Wouldn't know what to do with this little cunt if he had it." 

"And you do?"

His answer is to plant his feet on the ground and drive the length of him into you. A battering ram to your core. There is a white-hot pleasure burning through your core. It leaks into your marrow until you're heavy with the weight of it. 

He helps you along. Hands gripped tight to your hips, he lifts you up off of his cock, and lowers you down with a fervour that leaves you quaking. 

It's not so much as riding him, but being battered by a hurricane. All you can do is cling to him—arms wrapped tight around his neck, thighs shaking as you struggle to keep up with his brutal pace. Your forehead falls, rests against his shoulder, and you moan brokenly into the seam between your bodies.

It feels a little bit like possession. The flavour of a claim, ownership lingers in the air; it's heavy on your tongue, in your chest. But he's not the type of man to do that, is he? Distance. Separation.

Something like that is far too intimate for a man who shouldn't exist. 

Even so—

Each blunt grind of his cock inside of you has milky pleasure blooming inside of you. His hard grip is tight enough to bruise, and when he digs his fingers into your flesh, you wonder if it's intentional. If he wants you stained and broken by the time he's finished. 

No condom, either. It's rare that you go without one, despite being on birth control. He'd only ever lost it enough to forgo the contraceptive when he was injured, when his hand would press to his side each time he moved. The mask covered it up, but you saw the red in his eyes when he shifted. 

You took advantage of his weakened state—lemme take care of you, Simon—and finally (finally) got a taste of his cock. His hips rutted into your mouth, and the noises that spilled out of him were obscene. You swallowed every drop while he heaved on the couch, forearm thrown across his forehead, eyes wide and red and looking at you in a way that made your toes curl. It was—

Magma. Melted rock. Soft, molten, and—

He passed out after. You cleaned up while he slept. It was the first time you'd ever seen him slumber, but despite the itch to look, to see, you kept your distance. A throw was tossed on him gently, a bottle of water left on the coffee table. You grabbed a book from the shelf, curled up on the chaise near the window, and watched the lour gloom of London under a deluge. 

(London, you find, is always prettier when it storms.)

He woke up hours later to the smell of lamb soup. 

His voice was a husk: a charred log. He pulled you down on the couch with him, back pressed to his front, and he'd taken you then. His arm draped over your collarbones, forearm tucked under your chin; his other hand gripped your thigh, keeping you open for him as he rutted inside of you. Delirious, perhaps, from the pain. From the uncomfortable, dangerous, vulnerability he showed you. It didn't feel distant when he pulled you into him, eyes murky bogs in the middle of a barren forest. It felt—

Stripped. Raw and naked and somehow virginal despite the heavy pants of pleasure in your ear, muffled by the mask that had not moved at all since his head dropped on the armrest behind, and he woke up to a porcelain bowl of cawl on the table. 

The bare grind of his cock inside of you should negate the purity in the act but somehow, somehow, it feels more innocent than anything else you'd experienced before. 

He came inside of you, a wrecked groan reverberating in your ear as he squeezed you tight to his body, and made you take every drop. 

No words were exchanged. You ate cawl on the couch and tried to pretend you didn't see the hungry look in his eyes when you caught his gaze on the pearlescent smear staining your thighs. 

(Each time after that, he wore a condom.)

Until now.

You can feel him pulsing in your throat. It feels more intimate—hurried and rushed as it: your thighs spread over his, his cock buried deep inside you, chest pressed against yours. There is nowhere for you to turn, to hide, except to burrow your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the ozone scent of him. Gunpowder. Pyrolysis. Sulphur. Smoke. It sits heavy in your lungs. 

"F—fuck, Simon," you mewl, fingers clawing at the fabric of his sweater. You need something to hold on to, to keep you grounded amid the battering of his hips. 

"Yeah, pet," he breathes, his hands gripping you tighter as he ruts into you. His cock grinds against something inside of you that has you seeing white. "You like that don't you? Like my cock inside of you. You're desperate for it, aren't you?"

There is no room for words in your esophagus when you can feel the blunt press of his head bludgeoning into your sternum. All you can do is work yourself against the brutal onslaught of him driving his hips, his cock, into you from below. There is no stability for you to find purchase, and give back just as much as you take, but Simon doesn't seem to want that. Not right now. 

He fucks into you, barely able to pull the full length of him out of your drenched pussy, and seems find pleasure in grinding against your core in deep, short strokes that leave you chasing Ursa Major in the Magellanic cloud that spools in your head. 

Each thrust leaves you trembling, legs quaking as he knocks against a place inside that makes your back arch; making liquid euphoria brim in your veins.

Fucking Simon with an abundance of prep rides that perfect equilibrium of pleasure and pain. This—

This feels like it might wreck you. Your cunt is stretched wide around the base of him, pulled taut as he digs his heels into your worn, stained carpet and drives himself into you like he's trying to split you in half, and take refuge in your womb. 

The sounds that spill out, filling the room, make you feel like you're floating. From the seal of your sopping pussy and the lewd squelch of him sliding against your walls; the deep, ruined moans that drip from your mouth; the deep, hoarse groans he makes that has your belly quivering—it has your fingers digging into his shoulders, clenched around tense muscles. 

"Fuckin' hell—," his head tips back when your knee slips, bringing your pelvis closer to his groin. "This cunt was made for me, wasn't it? All mine—"

Stubble grazes your nose when you press your lips to the silver of skin exposed on his jugular. Teeth catch on the coarse hair, skin drawn between them. Capillaries burst under your tongue, flooding his flesh a bright red, then a deep purple. The perfect impression of your teeth—

"Fuck—!" He snarls, hands pulling you closer to him as he jerks within you. 

Simon knocks the thoughts from your head when he spears his cock inside of you. It's rough, raw. The pain that blooms in your core when he chevies into the seal of your womb as you see a supernova behind your eyelids. The explosion of energy. Each synapse inside of your head buzzes with the force of it. 

"C'mon, pretty thing," he husks; the roar of the ocean upwelling on the land. You taste salt on your tongue when you pant, moaning his name into his sweat-slicked neck. He tastes of iodine. "I want you to cum on my cock, pet. I need to feel your cunt squeeze me tight—"

It pulls on the thread keeping the deluge from spilling over. The seams split; the levee cracks. It wells inside of your core, each plunge pushing you further and further to the edge of that roaring precipice. Standing on the ledge of a cliff, eyes pointed down at the black water that slams against the granite, frothing and angry. It sprays mist from the vitriolic sea. Arsenic white. It crests over you. His grunt in your ear. His hands tighten until you feel bruises bloom under the tips of his fingers. The chossy cracks. The rocks tumble. Your feet slip—

It's familiar, this. Everything about him makes you feel like you're falling, and this—this—is no different. A leap. A drop. Your feet hit the water first. 

It happens all at once; crashing over you like a rogue wave. Swallowed whole. Sucked under. 

Knees scrape the murky sediment below. You babble in his neck about how good his cock feels inside of you; hiccuping stupidly at the absurd stretch of him, how big he is, and—shyly, tentatively—how much you missed this, missing feeling him inside of you, tasting him on your tongue. 

It punches a snarl from his throat; ripped and raw on the barbed wire lining his jugular. It drips blood when he bites into it, fingers cutting into your skin to stem the ache in his voice from leaking out.

(Things are only real when whispered out loud.)

He pulses inside of you, head tilts back as he groans with his release. 

These soft moments nearly ruin you: when his hands clench around your waist, paroxysms of pleasure hard enough to bruise; his chest expanding with his deep breaths, brushing yours with each inhale; the heat spuming inside of you. The noises he makes. The way his brow pinches together when he cums. 

Your eyes fall on the column of his neck, tracing a bead of sweat slipping down from the humid mask, over the bluish mark you left on his skin, to where it pools in the indent of his collarbone. His throat bobs. You watch it all. 

He's never more real than in these moments, you find. 

You think of object permanence, and sink your teeth into the raw ring around his neck. 

Simon shudders under you. "Fuckin' hell, pet—;" is a gravel-rucked rasp from his chest. He swallows again. "You tryin' to go for the jugular next?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His arms tighten around you, locking you to his chest. You throb around the softening length of him, pulsing like a heartbeat. Brassbound bliss is thick around your neck; heavy iron pulling you down. 

The cosmos spits you out, and gravity drags you home until you're centred; surrounded by the scent of sweat, sex, and the cloying tang of Simon—warm milk, wet nickles, and clove. Your nose brushes the hem of his mask, and you catch the frenetic headiness of Ghost. Warzone. Gunpowder. Ichor. Your tongue flicks out, catches the sulphur on his skin. 

You feel his feet shift, his thigh flex. 

Hold on tight, pet. It's the only warning you get before his hands curl under your knees, locking you to his chest, and he stands. 

The power in his muscles is dizzying, intoxicating. He hefts you into his arms with an ease that makes your head swim. All the liquid inside shifts as he moves. A vertiginous wave washes over you. 

You feel so small in his arms. So fragile, breakable. He holds you tight to his chest, hands ironclad on your thighs, and huffs when you giggle in his ear about how strong he is. How big and tough, and powerful Ghost is. 

"Ghost ain't the one still buried deep inside of you, pet." He mutters into your temple, words slurred, hushed. They're almost drowned out by the cheers spilling from the speakers, and you wonder if he even meant for you to hear them. 

You duck your head, nuzzling your nose into his throat. "M'tired. Take me to bed, Simon."

"Gladly."

It's a short walk from your living room to your bedroom, and he knocks the door open with the flat of his foot. He takes a moment before stepping through the threshold, eyes darting around your bedroom briefly. Hyper-vigilant. Always. This never changes even if he's in your flat or walking into the communal kitchen a whole sea away. 

It takes him two steps to reach your bed. He doesn't bother with the lights. 

He lays you on the cold bed, hovering over you with eyes like Orion. You think you find Betelgeuse in the far reaches of those unfathomable depths. 

"You're pretty," you slur, stupidly, dizzily. You're not drunk—not really —but you're intoxicated by this, by him. His scent in your nose, his taste on your tongue, his weight pushing you down into the soft sheets—his cock inside of you still, twitching when you speak. It makes you giggle—robust and bubbly—and babble about the stars in his eyes, and heaven in his touch. "Your eyes are so—"

He huffs, those pretty eyes rolling at you. "Haven't even seen me without the mask, pet—"

"Don't care." 

"No? What if I was ugly?"

"Doesn't matter." 

"Scarred up?" 

You shrug. 

Another huff, deeper this time. His head drops, forehead pressing against your temple. You can feel the vibration through your bones when he rests his chest on yours, and murmurs your name low. Ashes and embers. Smoke is thick in your nose. 

"You're clingy when you're drunk."

"Says the one who hasn't let go of me since I sat on your cock—"

His hips grind against yours, and the cheeky tone dies off in a whimper. 

"That's what I thought."

"No fair," you pant, arching your back under him. Your legs tighten around his waist. "You can't just abuse me with your dick to shut me up. You know it's my weakness."

"If it works…"

"You're a terrible man."

"Never said I wasn't, and anyone who says otherwise is lying."

Your hands slide up his shoulders, and you feel something sour twist inside of you when he tenses as you glide over his bare skin. Your nails graze his scalp, fingers threading through his moussed locks. He shudders at your touch. 

"Guess I'm a liar, then," you fit your cheek against his, murmuring in his ear. Quiet, low. The ghost of a whisper. 

His voice is tight when he speaks. Airy, light. It's as soft as you'd ever heard him. "Guess so, pet."

His arms tighten around you, holding you just a little bit closer. It's almost cruel how he holds you close to his chest like this. Like you're something to be protected, to be shielded. 

(Humans are greedy things by nature. 

How can he expect you not to want when he gives you moments like these to cling to?)

He doesn't stay long. Two nights watching football on your couch, drinking tea, and feigning obliviousness to the crack in the foundation that lingers between you. The intimacy is startlingly easy to fall into; he sleeps (really sleeps; his eyes closed, soft snores spilling out from behind the mask), relaxes around you in a way that makes you distinctly aware, now, of how tense he was before. 

(And yet—he still came.)

There is no confession to be had over cawl or the roast dinner you make before he leaves, leftovers tucked inside his backpack when he isn't looking, left there for whatever endeavour he was going on next. You can't imagine they have many homemade meals. 

You don't even really know what he wants from this, what he expects, except that it's happening. He's here, and that—

That's enough. 

You're greedy, always will be, but there's a dissonance inside of your chest, balmed by the tinge of green in those obsidian depths when you spoke of going home with another man. The acrid taste of his ire feels more poignant than any words could offer. 

A man of action. 

(And action comes often in his life.)

He calls you—for the first time in four years, somewhere overseas—and the sound of his voice in your ear has you grinning stupidly in the solitude of your bedroom. 

"Did I wake you?"

"Wasn't sleeping." 

It's quiet. Through the static, you can almost make out the chitter of insects native to whichever place they called him to. You think about filling in the gap, but there is a breath. A shift. Then: "me, too. Wondered what you were up to." 

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Pet—"

"Thinking of you." 

Silence again. His breath is white noise on the line. "I'll be—;" he pauses, inhaling once more: "—back soon. No promises."

"No, never," you smile. "Bring me a souvenir."

"All I have are heads, pet."

"How romantic."

"Never been much of one."

"I guess I could redecorate. Macabre-chic. " 

He huffs. You wonder if it's a chuckle. "Would start to smell, wouldn't it?"

"Not much worse than you after a mission, surely."

"You—"

"Kinda miss it, though." 

He says nothing. You catch the grainy inhale. The forceful exhale. 

"Not much to miss."

"There's lots."

"There ain't." 

"If you say so. Still do, though." You let it sit for a moment; a tender glimmer of raw vulnerability—the flavour he runs from. It brims. Your mother taught you that it was best to let things simmer. "It's been raining like crazy in London. Kinda reminds me of Wales."

"What do you call a sheep tied to a fence in Wales?"

"Do I want to know?"

"A leisure centre."

You nip your chuckle at the root, feigning exasperation instead. "You can do better than that."

"What do you call a soldier that survived mustard gas and pepper spray?"

"What?"

"A seasoned veteran."

Your huff trails off into silence. It's palpable, thick, but it isn't uncomfortable. It reminds you of the softness of night when you're supposed to be quiet. When you tiptoe around with a gingerness to avoid a raucous. Anything over a certain decibel is off-limits. It's not a rule. It isn't written down. But you follow it, anyway. 

In that gloam when the sun sets over the horizon, and night settles like a blanket, you whisper:

Make sure those heads come home safe.

The sheets rustle. Something in the distance shatters.

He sucks in a breath. "I should go, pet."

It's as much of a promise as he'll ever make. 

In the sticky gossamer of sleep, you feel something brush over your temple. A soft smear of warmth; transient and fleeting. The fluttering wings of a magpie. 

It leaves before you can sink into its weight.

When you wake the next morning, the room smells of rust and gunpowder. 

(No heads, but you find a whittled sheep on the pillow beside you.)

You open the cupboard above the vanity, reach for your toothbrush, and—

Oh. 

A slow, soft smile crests over your lips, cheeks flushing under the jaundiced light. 

Inside the solitary holder, another brush has taken residence beside yours. You stare at the two brushes in the rusting cup, heart thudding in your chest. 

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

339 of 2023

What's today's date?

17/07/2023.

Where is your current location?

In Belgium.

Who are you with?

My husband.

What are you listening to?

Fashion After All by Poppy.

How old will you be in 8 months?

Still 33.

What time did you wake up today?

Almost 8:00.

Is it past 4pm?

It is. It’s almost 21:00.

If you look to your right, what do you see?

The window and one of my cats on it.

What was the last movie you watched?

I don’t watch movies.

And who did you watch it with?

Can’t you just put it on one question?

Name three things besides your clothes that you are wearing:

All my facial piercings, my wedding ring, and three ear piercings.

What was the last website you visited?

Tumblr lol. I’m typing here.

How many people do you know named Angela?

Zero.

Is your hair longer than your shoulders?

No, it’s short.

How many years until you are 25?

-8 lol. I’m 33 already.

When was the last time someone gave you flowers?

My birthday, got some tulips from my husband.

Has anyone ever written you a song?

Yup, my first ex, Jay. Long story and I don’t even want to remember it.

Do you watch 'The Office'?

No, I don’t.

'Gossip Girl'?

Yup, my guilty pleasure :P

'Grey's Anatomy'?

No, thanks.

Are you shorter than 5'2"?

I’m 5���11. As far as I know, it’s taller.

What do you consider your best physical feature?

Nothing lol.

How do you like your eggs?

Scrambled or hard boiled.

Name someone you know with a birthday in December:

Eva, my secondary school classmate.

Have you kissed someone in the last week?

Yup, my husband.

What was the last illegal thing you did?

Lol define illegal. I don’t take drugs.

Who did you last go to the movies with?

Stephanie, but it was a few years ago. Did it only for keeping her companion XD

How many different people have called you today?

None.

Does your birthday come before or after St.Patrick's Day?

After, I guess?

What color was the last vehicle you were in?

Black.

Can you whistle?

No, I can’t.

How many computers are there in the place you live?

Five, if you don’t count all the tablets, smartphones and gaming consoles.

How many times have you moved?

At least five.

Do you have any family members in the military right now?

No, but Nielsje is a soldier and he’s still like family to me.

What is your dad's name?

Stefaan.

What was your mom's maiden name?

Do you really think I’m gonna share last names over the internet?

What are your siblings middle names?

Monique.

Are you currently wearing anything yellow?

No, I’m not.

Do you ever wish on shooting stars?

No, because it’s been ages since I last saw any.

Do you know anyone who lives in Alabama?

Not in person.

Is there a ceiling fan in the room you're in?

No, we don’t have such things in our house.

When did you last cry?

In April, when I heard the doctor’s decision regarding my work. Then I really lost it, for the first time in ages. I think I had a nervous breakdown.

Why?

I just said. Gosh how I hate such split questions lol.

What will you be doing 5 hours from now?

Snoring in bed.

Have you ever used someone to make someone else jealous?

No, pff. It’s stupid.

Have you ever been used by someone else?

Sure. I was young and naive then.

Is it raining right now?

Finally it’s not.

What season is it?

Summer.

What would you name be if you took on your #4's last name?

What is this question about?

Does your name begin with a B, L, or S?

None of these.

How many presidents have served in your lifetime?

I don’t know, I live in a kingdom.

Do you know your #1's middle name?

Seriously, WTF is the deal with all these numbers?

When was the last time you slept in a bed with someone else?

Last night.

Do you have any indoor pets?

Yup, two cats.

What color is the floor of the room you're in?

White.

What did you do the last time you hung out with your #2?

Gonna skip this question, really.

Is there anyone you wish you could talk to right at this very moment?

Yeah, Nielsje. We only text each other for now.

What is something you are addicted to?

Music.

What is something you tend to collect?

Pens, notebooks, keyrings, fridge magnets, postcards.

Is your #3 over 16?

What the f.

What is your favorite kind of restaurant?

Chinese wok.

Has anyone recently broken a promise they made to you?

Not recently.

Do you have any big weekend plans?

Yeah, shopping for last time and then going for vacation.

Three deceased people you wish you could have a conversation with:

Nikola Tesla, Marie Curie, countess Ada Lovelace.

Do you expect any of your friends to repost this?

I don’t care, steal if you want.

[travelingturtles]

And remember dear ones, if you’re reading this, the adventure begins at the bottom and you have to work your way up. Unless, someone knows how to turn it all around, then do let me know.

I’m sitting in my dear old friend’s sun room in Clinton, Connecticut. Could it be that I sat here almost seven months ago trying to decide whether or not to continue our journey home with Clifford? Time, as we all know, is so incredibly illusive. Time, when epic life changing events are staring you in the face, is bewildering. Last Oct, Sue dug a quarter out of jar and asked me to choose heads or tails. She said, “Heads you leave Clifford (our big red van) here and fly home, tails, you continue your journey.” When she flipped the coin, she didn’t show it to me but asked, “What do you hope it shows?” That was the moment I knew for certain and quickly made arrangements to park Clifford and fly home. Another dear friend graciously offered a spot on her property to park our van and gave Eddie and me a ride to the airport. The blessings of friends does not go unnoticed.

Flash back to early October: Eddie and I drive to Bennington College, my mother’s alma mater, and my sister calls to say that Mum’s in the hospital and they are recommending hospice. I call my mum and let her know where I am, that we are wandering around the campus, her campus, and trying to decipher where she may have parked her beat up old jalopy that she sold for a dollar to her brother, Alan, where she may have stolen away to make out with her old boyfriend, Gus, where her life as an adult began. Talking to her in that moment, I thought, she is the ever-ready-battery, she weebles and wobbles but will never fall down, she has come back from pneumonia and cat scratch fever and falls off of mopeds in Greece and too many trips to the emergency room than any of us can count. I also had a moment with her before we left on our journey where she said how much she loved me, that she may not make it until we return. I thought we had had “completion” and that would do. Thank goodness for quarters and perfect friends guiding you home.

I’ll leave the story of the five and a half precious weeks that I spent with Mum before she passed for a different time. This is after all “The Adventures of Clifford, the Big Red Van” and as much as Mum would have loved to have joined us on every one of the adventures we’ve taken, she’ll have to enjoy her journey through the DNA that I carry of her.

After reuniting with Clifford at Nancy’s house we found no rust, no rats, no mice or mold and one turn of the key and he started right up. Good Boy!

There’s nothing like being with an old friend of 49 years. Laughing and crying in equal measure, reminiscing and discussing and discovering new aspects of each other, opening up from where we left off and delighting in knowing that our friendship is still golden. And to have this occur with both Nancy and Sue is a gift beyond measure. Suffice to say that Eddie had to contend with lots and lots of gabbing.

After spending a few days walking on the beach at Sue’s, sharing time and stories and sea glass, Sue got many of our Byfield Bunch (Byfield Lane was where my family lived for 5 years) together for a reunion. We literally took a walk down memory lane, knocking on the doors of our old houses and introducing ourselves, a group of 7 sixty something year olds, to the inhabitants of our old digs. We learned that my old house was still occupied by the woman who purchased it 44 years ago and looked as old and in a state of disrepair as she did. She reminded me of the old lady in Princess Bride that lives in the tree with Miracle Max pronouncing Westley as “almost dead”. We learned that Sue’s house was torn down a long time ago, that the field behind John’s house, where we played flag football, was much smaller than we remembered and that the pond at Carole’s old house hasn’t frozen up enough for ice skating in years. Many shared memories of playing ice hockey, skinny dipping in other neighbors pools (even though we had a pool, the thrill of sneaking onto someone else’s property was much more fun), snow mobile rides on the golf course beyond the woods of Sue’s house, first joints puffed, wedgies at the bus stop for the more unfortunate, hitch hiking to school when we missed the bus, music jams and parties in Sue’s basement…. What a privileged childhood, minus the wedgies of course.

While with Nancy, I got to crash a reunion of a group of women (dubbed “the chain gang” in 6th grade by a teacher) that have been friends since grade school (I didn’t meet them until 7th grade). I hadn’t seen them for 47 years! Amazing how we get older and hopefully evolve, but at the core we are who we are who we are…. So special to have the opportunity to reconnect.

Nancy, Andy, Eddie and I took walks, played music, worked in their garden, talked politics and plants and all manner of experiences concerning our raising of our children and letting go of our parents who had been good friends when we were kids.

With sad farewells and the promise to see one another again soon, we departed and headed towards Gettysburg to feed Eddie’s childhood passion for all things Civil War. It so happens that my great great grandfather fought on both sides of the Civil War, first, reluctantly as a Rebel and then after being treed and convincing the Union army with his northern accent that he was indeed not a Confederate soldier despite his uniform, they conscripted him into the Union Army where he was eventually promoted to Colonel.

I’ll leave you here to ponder the past and hope you’ll return to read the next post of our adventure.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

[lubdubsworld]

The Devil’s Own.

Jungkook x OC

Mafia Au!

Warnings : Non-Con ! Manipulation, Degradation, Shitty hero with no redeeming Qualities you have been warned. ( i mean he does get better but not much.) 

Summary : Just Mob Boss Jungkook doing mob boss things. 

Chapter 1

“ Sign it. ”

I glared at him, feeling sick at the tone. The entitlement.

“No.” I said sharply and I could feel his anger swelling, morphing into something dangerous and deadly but I couldn’t care anymore. I was tired. Exhausted. This cat and mouse game had gone on , long enough. It wasn’t an even playing field, in any sense of the qword.

If today was the day I died, so be it. I would accept it. I would even welcome it.

I was done.

He had everything : an empire at his beck and call , enough money to pave the streets of Seoul in gold and an army of loyal associates behind him. His face was plastered on Billboards across the country , the President posted pictures of him on his fucking SNS and delegates from other countries had to wait weeks , just to get an appointment with the youngest billionaire South Korea had ever seen.

And yet none of those white collared dignitaries saw this side of him. The dirty, violent ruthless man who had more blood on his hands than anyone else in the country. My father’s. My brothers’.

Jeon Jungkook was both the most revered business man in the country and the undisputed king of Seoul’s criminal underbelly.

“You defiance only makes me want to break you in other ways Elena.” He said warningly and I felt my throat go dry. I stared at him, wondering how someone could look so expensively gorgeous and yet, like a hardened criminal.

The expensive silk shirt, the fitted slacks and the handmade shoes ought to clash with the dark ink that covered his entire arm and neck, the piercing on his eyebrow and the glint of metal on his tongue but it didn’t.

It just all came together to make him the most attractive man in existence.

I took a deep breath. Perhaps begging was the way to go?

“ You have my father’s company. You have my brother’s Hospital and you have the family mansion. It’s all yours. This bakery belongs to my mother. It’s all I have left of her. My sister in law is pregnant , due any day. She needs a place to stay and I don’t… I don’t have money to rent anywhere else.” I said desperately, thinking of the paltry wage I earned waiting tables. I could barely afford food for myself let alone for Jisoo and the baby on the way.

The bakery was abandoned but it had a roof. The furniture was crumbling but I could fix that. If I didn’t have to worry about rent, I could save up enough to make it livable. At least till I got a better job.

“I’ve offered you solutions for all of that.” He reminded me softly, eyes trained unblinkingly on me and I stared at him.

“I’m not going to be your whore.” I felt my voice shake.

He grimaced.

“You aren’t qualified to be my whore. And I don’t need one either. Whores are not my thing. I have a beautiful fiancée, don’t you remember? ” He grinned. I felt my heart ache because that fiancée was once my best friend. The only person I had trusted with my entire life. Lisa had betrayed my trust, had spied on my father’s operations and brought him down and I had the horrible, horrible inkling that she had also had something to do with my father and brother’s untimely death in a car crash.

But I couldn’t think about that. Every time I thought about her my heart broke and head spun, and I had to be at my maximum mental capacity if I was going to deal with her heartless fiancée.

“ If you ask me, you’re not fit for anything more than a back alley blowjob for a couple bucks. But Hoseok thinks you have potential. Join his agency, there are a lot of very wealthy men who have a bone to pick with your father. He made a shit ton of enemies. Most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of you. ”

His words felt like worms crawling all over my skin and I could feel the nausea churn inside me.

“I’m not signing the bakery over. You can call the creditors. I still have another year and half to pay the one remaining loan and they won’t come for me till then.” I felt my head begin to throb and Jungkook sighed.

“Suit yourself.” He stood up and I stayed still, watching his tall frame tower over me with ease. He gave me a small bitter smile. It was fraught with hatred and I stared back at him, knowing the emotion was probably mirrored in my gaze.

“Beautiful Elena. As pretty as the day you left me at the altar.” He smirked and I flushed.

“Your vengeance is petty and pointless and unfair…just like you.” I said angrily, frustration building u at his words. The way he talked about our broken engagement like it even mattered. It hadn’t even been real. We had hardly spoken and my father had called the wedding off at the last moment. But apparently, that had been the last straw for the Jeons. They had come after my father’s entire existence with a single minded intent to destroy him and they had succeeded. The man was dead . His two sons were dead.

But apparently it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook stared at me, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe. But it’s also deadly and potent. And it won’t rest until I see you reduced to nothing but a whore on the streets, spreading your legs for every man who can afford you.” He laughed. “ Saying no is a luxury , one that you’ll soon be unable to afford.”

I refused to be cowed, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words scared me. Because they did.

They scared me so damn much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This bed is so lumpy… I’m so sorry, unnie..” I said apologetically but Jisoo shook her head quickly, palms cupping my face as I held her elbows, gently lowering her to the bed. I stared at her feet, feeling my heart race at how swollen they looked. That can’t be normal, a voice whispered and

I didn’t know if that was normal and I had no money to take her to a clinic. The social center we usually went to only allowed three visits per month and we had used it all up. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and spend the thirty thousand won it would take but that would mean no groceries for a week and surely bread and eggs wouldn’t stretch that long, even if I could sneak meals in the restaurant for myself.

“I’ve been feeling a little dizzy…I’ll just sleep.” She said tiredly. She was thirty six weeks along, not due for another four weeks but her blood pressure was erratic. Her lab numbers were oscillating and there had been talks of an emergency c section. Even with insurance it was way more than I could afford but I had my own jewelry, a few expensive trinkets from my teenage years. I’d been obsessed with diamonds and my father had indulged me and I had a pair of earrings left. I’d already sold the rest but this would take care of the medical bills for the birth itself.

“My shift starts in ten minutes. I have to go. Give me a call if you need anything…” I said softly and I saw the familiar blank and listless look come into her eyes. I knew she was depressed, dealing with grief and pregnancy and loss but there was nothing I could do for her. Nothing. I had applied for a bunch of other jobs but they never wrote back. It wasn’t easy, being rejected over and over again but it wasn’t like there was much else I could do. And the truth was I was resigned to this, accepted that at some point I would have to take more loans and be stuck in an endless cycle of debt for the rest of my life.

And I had made peace with that.

There was no future for me. And I was okay with just surviving.

If only Jungkook would let me.

Apparently, watching me wipe down greasy tables and mop up floors and toilets trying to earn just enough to get a few square meals didn’t soothe his anger. It only fueled it. Jungkook couldn’t fathom that it had been six whole months of me on the streets of Seoul and I wasn’t completely destitute yet. I’d kept myself and my sister in law alive, safe and it pissed him off.

He wanted to see me broken and on my knees, begging him for help. The idea of me somehow surviving despite him taking everything away from me, it just didn’t sit well with him.

I couldn’t afford to have him as an enemy so all I could really hope was that one day he would wake up and give up. One day he would just wake up and decide that I wasn’t worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I walked into my shift and noticed a familiar pair of high heeled Louboutins , completely out of place in my seedy place of employment, I knew I was in trouble. Lisa sat against one of the booths and her gaze was fixated on the door which meant she was waiting for someone. And when her eyes narrowed at the sight of me, I just knew I was the someone.

She wants to get me fired.

It wasn’t rocket science and I felt the urge to turn right back around and leave.  But I tamped down on it. I could get through this. I would get through this. Lisa and Jungkook got off on invoking reactions and I wouldn’t give them that.

Except it wasn’t that easy.

It was a nightmare, watching her demand and reject and walk all over me but the sleeplessness from the past few days made spacing out easier and I just stared away at the wall as she yelled and complained and made a scene.

“You’ve stopped fighting? Finally giving up? Good…” She hissed when the manager apologized to her and told me to meet him after my shift and I felt myself tremble in indignation.

“I won’t fight you or Jungkook, you and I both know I can’t afford to.” I said quietly and she went still, something flashing in her eyes for a second. It was gone before I could fully process it but it had been there. Guilt.

Lisa wasn’t a terrible human. She had been a dear friend. We had grown up together and she had even hugged and teased me when I’d been betrothed to Jungkook, all those years ago. I had been twenty back then, naïve and spoiled. While Jungkook had taken my father’s entire legacy apart, piece by piece, Lisa had been nothing more than a pawn. I remembered all the times I had let her home, how she would disappear for lengths of time.

Planting bugs all over the house. All over his office. Jungkook had been smart. Someone like Lisa, so fascinated by thr wealth she had grown up around would naturally jump at the idea of more. It wasn’t greed. It was human nature. And with her help he had destroyed everything my father had built over decades.

I shuddered. My father hadn’t been a good man. He had been greedy, yes. But he hadn’t deserved to die. And Jungkook would have to pay for that sin, someday.

“There’s a job waiting for you in Hoseok’s club.” She smiled cruelly , “ you don’t need this one.”

“The fact that you want to take it away from me, tells me that maybe there’s nothing left in you save.” I said blankly and she turned her nose up at me.

“I have Jungkook. I don’t need to be saved.”

I shook my head. She was so naïve. Men like Jungkook cared for nothing but themselves. But I wondered if women like her didn’t care for anything but the money that came with being his. Money was precious, I thought bitterly. I’d never realized how privileged I had been until I’d had it all ripped away.

“He’s the one you need saving from. And one day you’ll realize that.” I shrugged, not in the mood to offer her anymore life advice.  If she was alright with being a trophy wife in exchange for a few pretty shoes that was her prerogative.

Before she could reply,  my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked nervously and I felt my heart drop to my knees when I heard who it was.

I turned on my heel rushing inside and my manager gave me a look of surprise.

“ My sister..she’s… she’s sick. I need to go.” I said desperately and his eyes narrowed. It was the worst timing. He was already annoyed because of Lisa and I stared in disbelief as he quickly shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry Elena…I just can’t let you leave like that…” He said sharply.

It was so unfair.

“I haven’t taken a single day off in five months…” I said desperately..” Please, she’s pregnant..She needs me, she-“

“If you leave, you won’t have a job to come back to. I can’t do this.. First you make trouble with a customer and now you just want to walk out in the middle of your shift without any notice…”

“Fine. Fire me.” I snapped, because I’d just had enough of it. I was exhausted, and tomorrow I’d go knocking on some other tore and I’d get a job. I lived in Seoul …How hard could it be? For now, I had to get to Jisoo. I had to get the hospital and things would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t okay.

“I… You want to keep her in? So soon?”

“Her blood pressure is through the roof. There are signs of severe pre eclampsia and we want to get her started on a magnesium drip. Steroids to help the baby’s lungs incase we need to deliver…”

“Deliver..?” I couldn’t breathe.

“Yes, I’m sorry…. If her blood pressure doesn’t come down we’re going to have to deliver.”

I nodded, glancing at the bed where Jisoo was sleeping, her face swollen and I knew that she was sick. Really sick. She looked pallid and ill.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked hoarsely.

“We’re going to do what we can… But I’m going to be honest, we’re looking at a c section, a lot of meds and also some time in the NICU for the baby…. Can you afford it? Your sister’s insurance only covers 80% .”

I blinked, completely thrown. White noise rushed through my ears,  a dull throb settling right at the base of my skull and beginning to spread all the way to my arms and back. It was panic mixed wth anxiety mixed with despair and I couldn’t quite cope. The earrings wouldn’t cover all that.

“Oh… Oh..yeah.” I said dully, “ Of course I can… Let me just…. Can I have a moment? There’s somethings I need to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I carefully slipped the cash into the envelope, swallowing as I sat on the pavement. I’d got another call from the hospital, they had administered the steroids but Jisoo’s condition seemed to be worsening. They wanted to try inducing labour soon but they wanted me to pay for the room and for the medicines, and apparently, the earrings weren’t as valuable as I thought they were.

I fought nausea wrapping arms around myself as I stared at the cars whizzing by, the putrid city air clogging my lungs as I tried to come to terms with what was happening. Jisoo needed help. She was the only one left and she carried my brother’s son. I felt my throat clog when I thought of Daehwan. He had been a good guy. I had loved him. It wasn’t fair, what Jungkook had done to my family, I thought miserably .

And the only reason I wasn’t driven by vengeance or anger was because I was nothing like Jungkook. I hated him. I didn’t want him to live in my head, didn’t want to waste any part of myself on him , not even my anger. But it was hard when he wouldn’t let me breathe, always at my heels like a wolf : jaws snapping and blood thirsty eyes trained on me at all times. I couldn’t fathom his obsession sometimes. Surely, his hatred was uncalled for now? He’d taken everything from me anyway.  

There was a dull roaring in my ears, one that said that this was not really a surprise. I’d thought about it way too often, had considered it countless times. Had even spent one absolutely horrifying evening scouring the streets of Seoul’s red light district just to see how sex workers behaved.

I’d also realized that in the face of desperation, dignity didn’t hold much value.

You are going to pay your debts on your back and on your knees.

The first time Jungkook had thrown it at my face, eyes glinting with glee, my stomach had rebelled so hard. I’d been absolutely infuriated, had thrown a vase at him. And it had been awful,  watching him catch it out of the air with ease, his mocking laughter making my bones rattle as he shook his head, “ That’s how this ends, Elena. Mark my words.”

And it was pitiful ,  that he went through life so consumed with hatred and vindictive cruelty that he couldn’t leave me alone . He was pathetic. That’s how I saw him. A pathetic child who refused to stop tormenting the helpless ant on the floor although it was no match for his cruelty.

At some point Jungkook was going to win. And his idea of winning was seeing me stripped bare of the one thing that kept me alive : my freedom.

It had just happened sooner than I’d thought.

Because I knew what it would mean, to go to Hoseok. He would own me. Hoseok’s whores were all slaves, tangled in his web so badly that there was no hope of escape. He wasn’t cruel but he was smart. No one left the his ‘ agency’ once they went in. I would be lost, forever. And I couldn’t stomach it.

I stared at my knees, fists clenched on the fabric of my skirt. I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the contacts. I considered it carefully. I had to do this on my terms. Had to make sure I retained some sort of control here.

And I knew just how to do it.

Hoseok picked up on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“I need help.” I croaked out.

The deep chuckle made my skin crawl.

“Elena Gong. What a wonderful, wonderful surprise. What can I do you for?” He drawled.

“Well sweetheart, I’m all out of charity so you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”

I took a deep breath.

“I’m a virgin.” I whispered.

The line went completely silent.

“What?” The amusement in his voice died.

“You heard me and I’ll let you cash in on it. I’ll let you auction it off…” I tamped down on the burning protest in my lung, the screaming inside my head that said it was horrifying, that I was considering this. “ But only if you keep my terms.”

“What makes you think you have a say in that.” He said sharply and I laughed.

“I belong to your world, Hoseok. Did you forget that we were friends, once.” I whispered and he didn’t reply.

Laughter, kindness, a big brother I could always count on, hobi oppa, nine year old me with my fingers curled around his wrist as we ran all around the gardens , a smile so wide that he could spread sunshine on the gloomiest days. Different from Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi and the others. Willing to include a ‘ girl’ in his playtime. Lisa and I the only girls, not even fazed watching as the rest of them wielded toy guns and mock interrogation scenes, pretending to kill and maim and torture because that was the world we were born into.

“We’re not friends, Elena. Let’s get that straight. The only part of you that holds any value to me is th part between your legs. So tell me, what do you want.”

“When was the last time you auctioned off someone’s virginity? You know how much money you can make off something like that. Not just from the sale itself but from the entire night. Your club… Your gaming hell…. All of it.”

“You expect me to believe you’re a virgin. At twenty seven.” He scoffed.

“Put the word out, everywhere. If you find one man who says he’s slept with me , I’ll back off.”

“That would require me to tarnish your  family name. And you’re alright with that?”

I smiled biotterly.

“Isn’t that what you and your precious Jungkookie want? To see the last living Gong, be labeled as a whore and a slut.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’ll give you that. You can do it… You know that will only interest more people. As Jungkook so eloquently put it, most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of me.”

“What’s the catch. What do you want. ”

“2 billion won.”  I said firmly “It will be one night. One night only and I want enough money to pay off every one of my father’s debts, to get me an apartment for my sister in law and to support her and her baby for a year at least.”

“Done.” He said without missing a beat and I went still. What must it be like, to throw around money like that without a care in the world. And it sickened me that Jungkook was probably ten times as rich as Hoseok , the money my father owed him and his associates not even pocket change in comparison to his gargantuan wealth and yet, he stayed on my heels, snapping his jaws like a dog with a bone.

“And Jungkook doesn’t get to watch.” I said softly, knowing exactly what Jungkook would get off on.

That made Hoseok laugh.

“You know him too well. I keep forgetting he was madly in love with you once.”

I resisted the urge to vomit. Jungkook didn’t know love. He knew ownership. He didn’t love me, he thought he owned me. That I was his to play with…. For the rest of his life. And when my father had denied him that, just like a toddler in a toy store being denied a shiny toy to break and trample on, he had thrown a temper tantrum.

Except his tantrums always ended in death and destruction.

“That’s the deal. He doesn’t turn up there to gloat.”

“He’s heading out to Switzerland for a week , two days from now.” Hoseok said evenly.

“Good then. My sister in law…she “ I swallowed. “ She’s in a hospital in Yongsan. I’ll send you the address.”  

“I’ll take care of it. But I want you here tonight. I’m not going to drop a couple billion won on your head without making sure I’m getting my money’s worth. And I can’t have you changing your mind and bolting either. My reputation is on the line here. If I put out the word that I’m serving something so fucking delicious and then back out, they’re not going to want to buy Hobi’s wares anymore. You understand what I’m saying darling?” Hoseok drawled and I knew exactly what he was saying. If I agreed to this, it was blanket consent for him to whatever he wanted.

“I won’t back out. I can’t. But this is one night. One night with whichever bastard you choose and that’s it. I want out.  I don’t want you or Jungkook hounding me again. Ever.” My voice shook as I dug my fingers into my knees.  

“My men will be there in ten minutes. Sit tight, princess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at Hoseok as he carefully poured me a finger of whiskey, neat. He gave me a smirk and I shrugged.

“you remember.” I said casually, throat itching because it had been way too long since I’d had quality alcohol. I missed the burn,  the warmth , the numbness that followed.

“Of course I do. You could drink all of us under the table with little effort. It was spectacular.” He laughed and I leaned back against the couch, letting my head fall back.

“I was half certain that you would have a doctor around to make sure I’m a virgin.” I stared at him and he shrugged. “ Pointless. You’re twenty seven, you’ve probably had stuff up there anyway… Not like your hymen’s still going to be intact.”

I thought it was rather horrifying, that I didn’t feel nearly as mortified as I should. This was how Hoseok talked, matter of fact and open and that was why he was so popular. Anytime an important person came into the country, Hobi was the one who offered entertainment for the night. Hobi’s girls were always the prettiest, most well behaved and perfect. They were educated, knew what they were talking about and he didn’t force them into the life. They loved it, enjoyed it and it showed.

Not to say he was a saint.

Far from it.

Hoseok knew how to dine with kings in castles  but also how to wrestle with  swine in the gutter. The seedy brothels in Seoul’s back alleys were his as well, and he ruled his kingdom with an iron hand. The prostitutes there feared him, one look or word enough to silence any rebellion, any thought of escape.

He was called Hope. And yet somehow that was exactly what he denied the women under him. There was no hope here. There was only lust and power and money. You came to Hobi…. You never left .

I took the glass he offered, taking a small sip, savoring the taste.

“But you believe me. I wonder why.” I watched him closely and he scoffed.

“Between your father and Jungkook, no one ever really had the pluck to come anywhere near you  did they?”

Undisputable.

I sighed, leaning back to stare at him.

“Do you think dying hurts?” I asked softly.

It was frightening, how his entire body went stiff, eyes wide and jaw dropping.

“Elena, what the fuck-“

“Its just a question. You’ve killed people. You’ve watched them die… how do you think they feel?” I asked , curious.

“None of them wanted to die. If that’s what you’re asking.” The look in his eyes made me nervous.

I stared at him and the question was obvious. None of them wanted to die, but do you?

I didn’t.

“I’m not thinking of killing myself , oppa.  Stop looking so horrified.” I laughed. He shook his head.

“ Don’t joke about that. It’s not fucking funny.”

I sobered up, remembering with a jolt. Ah, of course.

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” I said quietly.

Hoseok’s little sister had killed herself when I was seventeen. She was a year older than me and her father had lost her in a wager to a seventy year old man, known for torturing his bedmates. She had heard the news, taken a deep breath and taken a deep dive off the seventeeth floor of the condo where she lived with her mother.

I’d been engaged to Jungkook by then. And I had almost wanted it. Jungkook wasn’t old at least… twenty one to my seventeen.

“Just so you know, he’s going to find out. And he’s not going to like it.”

I shrugged. Three years is a long time to be preyed upon and now my mind was resigned to a life of being hunted. Hoseok was right. Jungkook would find out and he wouldn’t like it.

Good.

“I don’t care what he does anymore. All I care is that Jisoo and the baby are left out of whatever plans he has…. If you promise me you’ll keep them safe , I’ll cooperate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a baby boy.

I stared, fingers itching to hold the baby but it was impossible, the little one whisked away to the NICU right after with respiratory distress and Jisoo had gone into a seizure, eyes rolling back into her eyes.

She as alright now, resting in a VIP room with the best care money could buy. Hoseok had asked me if I was happy with the arrangements, and if I would name the boy after him.

I stared at the room, large and breezy and filled with flowers and gifts, toys and baby stuff and I knew right then that I had sealed my fate. I was going to have to go through with this. I could imagine how much Jisoo would protest when she came to her senses. The only relief was that it would take her a few days to be good enough to fight or protest. But then this would all be over and done with.

Jungkook would leave this afternoon. His flight was at three.

I would reach the club at five. The patrons would arrive at seven.

One night, I reminded myself , staring at the gentle rise and fall of Jisoo’s chest as she slept, my fingers playing with the soft skin on her wrist. The IV line went through her veins and I watched the gentle drip of it.

One night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t know how auctions happened and while I’d been prepared for the worst kind of humiliation,  Hoseok assured me that he wasn’t going to make me stand naked on some podium or something.

“Generally, I would do something like that simply for the flair of it but consider this a favor ….a respite because you were, as you said, once a friend.” He gave me an even smile and I could only nod in mute relief.

I was grateful. Beyond grateful.

And what was more, he hadn’t told anyone, who I was.

That stunned me. Because wasn’t that the selling point? The murderous, greedy mob rat Gong Hyo Suk’s only daughter forced to spread her legs for one lucky stranger? If Hoseok had cashed in on that he would have made a fortune. But he hadn’t. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would , whoever it was be upset if he recognized me?

I was led to a bedroom, large and tastefully decorated with silky satin sheets and dark curtains and dim lighting that lit up parts of the room and left other parts plunged in darkness. Hoseok had told me to wear whatever I wanted and I realized with a pang that he really didn’t see this as some sort of transaction. He was trying to make it as easy as possible without making any decisions for me. Offering me choices and options and some illusion of being in control.

I didn’t have anything fancy so it was just a dress shirt that I borrowed from Hoseok. I’d left the underwear off, eager to merely get the whole thing over with. I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh out loud.

If Jungkook were here he really would have lost his damn mind, simply because of how little this whole thing affected me. And that was it, really. He was always desperate for a reaction.

Earlier when this whole thing had started, I’d obliged him with that. I would scream, rant and yell….launch myself at him like a wildcat, scratching at him , fists flying  and it was obscene, how much he seemed to enjoy that. He would press me up against walls and tables , fingers choking the breath out of my lung, just so he could see me struggle and push back.

He fed off from every negative reaction I offered him and it had taken me a long long time that the way to beat him was to become passive, unresponsive. I would go limp in his arms, stare at him blankly as he tried to manhandle me and that…that had pissed him off. Because that meant I wasn’t playing his game anymore.

If the prey wasn’t playing, the game wasn’t fun anymore. It was drab.

Boring.

And I knew that Jungkook kept raising the stakes, kept tightening the noose around my neck….just to bring that girl out again. The one that had wanted to put up a fight . The one that wanted to mouth off even with the muzzle of a gun pressed against her head. The one who would spit in his face in front of all his associates, even if it earned her a vicious strike of his hand across her face.

I shuddered. They weren’t memories I liked reliving.

Well, if that was who he wanted, I’d make sure he would never see her again.

The door opening made me jump and Hoseok came in , with a wide grin on his face.

“Baby…. Your guest for the night.” He said softly and I peered over his shoulders, my heart and mind grinding to a halt when I caught sight of what had to be the most breathtakingly beautiful man on the face of the planet.

I felt my heart begin to pound, fear taking over because this wasn’t okay. Not really. I was okay with old, creepy and disgusting , not able to get it up for more than ten minutes.

I wasn’t okay with someone who looked like they stepped right out of the latest issue of GQ.

Hoseok left quickly, closing the door behind him and the man stepped into the light, the brightness lighting up his perfect features even more. I felt my throat go dry, and fought the urge to get up and run. Growing up as the daughter of a mobster , I’d learned how to trust my instincts over appearances.

And right now, every single one of those instincts screamed at me that this man was absolutely dangerous.

“Well, you are beautiful. I’ll give you that. “ He said casually.

“Thank you.” I said stiltedly, watching as he tugged on his tie, pulling it off his neck deftly . Instead of tossing it aside , he wrapped it a bunch of times around his wrist over and over as he smiled at me.

“Don’t thank me yet. The only reason I like beautiful things is because of how easily they break.” He smiled.  “ I haven’t been with a virgin in a while…. I miss the screams.”

And there it was the full blown panic that came with stark terror. I crawled back on the bed, staring as he moved closer and there was no mistaking the look on his face, the harsh grip of his hand on my ankle telling me that I was going to regret every one of the choices that led me here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hoseok wasn’t at the airport.” Jungkook observed casually, glancing at Yoongi as the latter finished cleaning his gun carefully, eyes fixed on his weapon with utmost concentration.

“He’s holding some sort of auction tonight. Some chick …” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook hummed. It was not the kind of thing he was interested in. Anonymous bids were often boring : actresses or female idols past their prime, desperate to make some money to survive. He had no interest in those but he was a little peeved that Hoseok hadn’t told him anything about it.

Hoseok was one of Jungkook’s most trusted friends. He was almost as powerfully rich as Jungkook and the only reason Jungkook reigned supreme was because Hoseok had no interest in challenging him for the throne. Hoseok was dangerous and cunning and loyal and Jungkook was grateful to have him on his side and he had hoped to see him before leaving. Just to ask him to keep an eye on Elena.

He grimaced, hating himself.

God, he couldn’t go two hours without thinking of her. It fucked with his head, the amount of space she took up inside him. Jungkook , for all his wealth and power, was driven solely by his need to prove himself. He wanted to be powerful and terrifying yes, but more than that , he wanted people to know.

He wanted people to look him in the eye and acknowledge him for what he was : the most dangerous man in the country. He liked seeing that fear, that worship, that admiration. He got off on it. He wanted it , craved it and for some reason he craved it more from her , than anyone else.

And instead of giving him what he wanted, instead of begging on her knees for mercy, instead of licking his shoes and begging for him to let her live….she ignored him. She looked at him with defiance and pride, her chin straight and her back unbending, her gaze locked right on him like she was his fucking equal….

And Jungkook, he’d taken a lot of insults. Taken more than his fair share of hits in life …..

But when she looked at him like that , like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe….

Fuck it drove him wild with fury.

It made him want to teach her a fucking lesson, to remind her that he owned her because he owned everything. To break her down, snuff out the flames of defiance that burned so bright in those ember eyes… Take her into his bed and brand her with his body. Till she was on the floor, on her knees covered in his spit and cum begging for mercy….

Because no one looked at Jeon Jungkook like that and lived to tell the tale..

“Seokjin’s here. Landed in Korea a couple of hours ago. ” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook smiled a bit at that. He loved his older brother, technically a step brother and growing up he had only saw him when he visited his mother in China. That meant a couple of months a year and now as adults,  a bit more often because Seokjin loved Jungkook and liked to visit him often.

Seokjin was a celebrity trainer, working with actors and athletes and he did a good amount of modeling as well. He was rich,  handsome and well liked and the only thing that gave away the Jeon blood in him was the fact that he was a sexual sadist.

The face of an angel with a devilish streak, he had a penchant for sadism and inflicting pain on his partners and while Jungkook didn’t particularly enjoy indulging him, he knew there were women who were into that and usually had them arranged for when Seokjin dropped by in Korea. His hyung’s visit seldom lasted more than a few weeks at a time and it was a pity that he would miss out one whole week of it .

But the issue in Switzerland was a little pressing and Jungkook had to be there in person to sort it out.

He leaned back against the seat, staring out of the window, sighing.

“An unsullied dove ….What the fuck is this shit..” Yoongi muttered and Jungkook turned, curious.

“What?”

“Hoseok’s been hyping up some new girl for the auction and Seokjin hyung’s bidding on her.”

Jungkook laughed at that.

“Jungkook…..” Yoongi’s voice is completely stunned, his eyes confused as he looks up at Jungkook.”  Its Elena.”

Jungkook’s thought process came to a grinding halt.

There’s a sound between his ears, a dull rushing sound like the wind in a storm and he can’t quite comprehend what he just heard. Even Namjoon who had been buried in his laptop , looked up then, tugging an airpod out of his ear.

“Wait…did you say Elena?” His eyes were wide , lips parted in shock. Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances, no doubt bracing themselves for the explosion that was to follow.

Jungkook took a deep breath.

“Turn the fucking plane around.”

That jolted Namjoon out of his stunned stupor..

“Turn-? Jungkook what…. We’re on a fourteen hour flight-“ Namjoon began but the look on Jungkook’s face made him stop.

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER?”

Namjoon swore.

“Fucking hell… alright just calm the fuck down, Jesus…just put a fucking bullet in that girl’s head and spare us all the headache fuck…” He growled, unbuckling his seat belt and rushing to the cockpit and Yoongi groaned.

“ Let me guess you want me to get in touch with someone in Seoul and ask Hoseok to hold off on letting Seokjin near her…”

Jungkook glared at him.

“If you already know that why the fuck are you still here…” He growled and Yoongi gave him a look.

“Just tell her you’re in love with her and let us live, Jeon Jungkook.”

In love….. what the fuck….

He glared at Yoongi’s back, his asinine words making him madder. God he wanted to crush someone’s skull into dust with his bare hands.

And right now, in his head , that skull belonged to Jung fucking Hoseok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “What just happened?” I asked, frantic staring at the door as Hoseok’s men casually led a fuming Seokjin away while the man himself stared at me, looking pale as parchment.

“ Jungkook found out.” He said shortly and I felt my heart drop although I was half relieved because there had been something insane in Kim Seokjin’s gaze when he’d reached for me , a cruel glint of hunger that told me he would have hurt me really badly if Hoseok hadn’t barged into the room , frantic and worried.

He had given Seokjin a wide smile and then, “ I’m so sorry. We were waiting on her blood results and turns out she has a…. well, certain occupational disease that is very infectious.”

Seokjin’s mouth had dropped open even wider than mine.

“I thought she was a fucking virgin.” He had snapped, and I flinched at how cold and furious he had sounded.

But apparently there was a reason this whole thing had happened.

“What do you mean Jungkook knows? What does that mean?” I asked frantically, fear taking over.

“ He’s heading back here… He wants to see you.”

I felt my entire body go ice cold as I shook my head…

“No…fucking no bring Seokjin back here , he can fuck me that was the fucking deal, Hobi, please don’t../…”

“Elena , I’m so fucking sorry.. Seokjin…he’s fucked in the head…. He likes hurting his whores, likes making them bleed and he would have fucking destroyed you…”

I gaped at him horrified.

“What?!” I hissed shaking my head in disbelief.

“He’s Jungkook’ stepbrother. I’ve arranged whores for him before, I knew he was a little crazy but I’d never seen him before and I didn’t know he was the Kim Seokjin…fuck he outbid everyone and fucker looks like a fucking angel, how the fuck was I supposed to know he’s unhinged? Thankfully, I messaged Yoongi and …. Fuck… Listen… I know I paid for your sister’s surgery but you’re going to have to pay me back….”

I felt my body convulse in rebellion.

“I can’t.. You know I fucking can’t…”

“I can’t make an enemy out of Jungkook…. I can’t.” Hoseok shook his head. “ You can get out of here now if you want but I’d advise you to stay. If you run it’s only going to make Jungkook angrier.”

“WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO HIM?!!!” I screamed, feeling my composure crumble into smithereens. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE WANT FROM ME?!!”

Hoseok flinched, stepping back and holding his hands up.

“Whether I want to or not, I answer to Jungkook.  I shouldn’t have done this in the first place , I’m sorry Elena.” He shook his head and stepped back like the coward that he was and I wanted to hurt him. To shake him and ask him to fucking remember who I was. That I had nothing to do with my father’s sins . That I had been a fucking marionette in his hands, had wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“So much for being a friend…” I whispered.

His jaw tightened. But he didn’t look guilty. None of them ever did. It was like guilt didn’t exist in their world. They did what they wanted to whoever they wanted , whenever they wanted and they got away with it because that bastard’s word was law. What Jeon Jungkook wanted, he got.

“I’ll get your clothes sent in.”

I watched him leave, the door slamming shut behind him and sagged against the bed, staring at myself. What had just happened?

Was I born to endless misery and misfortune?

Couldn’t I catch a fucking break?

I’d agreed to sell myself hadn’t I? Would have even let Seokjin hurt me if that was what he wanted. Because it was one night. It was one night of this…whatever the hell this was and then freedom. That was the deal.

The door opened again and I stared as a young girl brought me a pile of my clothes neatly folded.

“Do you work here?” I said sharply.

She blinked before bowing her head.

“Yes, mistress.”

I scoffed.

“Don’t call me mistress , I’m here to get fucked, just like you. Tell me does Jungkook ever use the women here.” I demanded.

She looked trapped, glancing at the door, clearly wanting to run .

“Tell me.” I snapped and she flinched.

“I..uh..yes. Sometimes.” She said softly.

“Can you tell whoever fucks him next to kick him in the fucking balls?”

The girl bowed deeply and all but ran out and I sighed, feeling myself shaking. Jungkook was on the way here and I wanted to yell and scream and rave at him but I knew that was exactly what he wanted. I wanted to deny him the satisfaction …wanted to act all cool and composed in front of him but it was impossible…

Because I hadn’t realized just how tired I was of this whole thing, till right this moment, when the end had been in sight. I was supposed to get my two billion won pay off all the debt , give Jisoo the rest of the money and disappear. I was so tired, so tired of this life I’d gotten trapped into, slaving over for hours on end just to afford a couple of meals a day. No friends, no boyfriends, no hope of a future …..

The door banged open and I jumped, crawling back when I recognized the man who had just entered.

“Yoongi-“

“Jungkook wants to see you.” He ground out and I swallowed.

“I need to get dressed. Please just wait outside.” I said shakily.

And then the door opened further and a tall looming shadow stepped in familiar and vomit inducing.

Jungkook looked livid, piercing glinting through the dimply lit room and I stared at him. He was dressed in a tight black t shirt, he sleeves stretched thin over his biceps and the tattoos stark against his skin.

“Leave us.” He said softly and Yoongi moved away to the door leaving me alone with the devil himself. I cursed myself for not putting at least my panties on, I was naked underneath this shirt and although it was big it left nothing to the imagination.

Jungkook’s eyes raked over my form before resting on my face.

“You think you’re smart enough to outsmart me, Elena?” He whispered softly.

I swallowed.

“Send you brother back in. He can fuck me and I’ll pay you back.”

Jungkook hummed, stepping closer and grabbing my clothes from the bed, he grabbed the plain white bra and the pastel pink underwear and then to my complete and utter mortification he brought the clothing up to his face, breathing in .

“Fucking pervert!!!” I screamed, feeling the action like a physical touch and wanting to claw his eyes out and the smirk on his face told me that this was exactly what he wanted but I was too fucking gone to care.

“If you want me to be a whore, fine. I’ll be a whore. But on my terms…” I spat out and he shook his head, laughing.

“I don’t just want you to be a whore, Elena. I want everyone to know that you are one…” He dropped my clothes and moved closer, holding a hand out. “ Come here.”

I stared at the inked fingers, adorned with sterling silver rings and bracelets with the motifs of his gang. I shook my head.

“No. I’m not playing this game with you.” I turned my face away.

His hand shot out gripping my upper arm with enough strength to bruise and I screamed, agony shooting up my arm and shoulders as he dragged me off the bed and onto the floor. I landed hard, hips and elbows bruising from impact and I stared at him in disbelief.

“I’ve been to gentle with you. You’ve forgotten your fucking place.” He bent over and grabbed me by my hair, yanking me to my feet so hard that it felt like my scalp had been ripped away from my skull.

“Okay…okay…Okay Jungkook..just…!!” I said softly, flinching because my pain tolerance was almost zero and Jungkook’s grip was so hard that my eyes were beginning to water now. He let me go, grabbing my panties off the floor and tossing them at me.

“I’m going to count to five. Put those on and get out.”

He walked out of the door and I stumbled a little fumbling with the fabric before quickly, slipping my legs in and yanking it up to my waist. I made to put on something else but his voice came, loud and impatient.

“Get the fuck out here.”

I walked out of the door and he was standing there next to Hoseok. I couldn’t meet either of their gazes , hating how they had so much power over my life. I stared at the floor. It was tempting to yell at them and scream but that never led anywhere.

“ I’ve asked them to stop the payment on the Hospital bill. Seeing as Elena hasn’t kept her end of the bargain.”

I felt my breath hitch at that, willing down the tears as I glared at him.

“What do you want?” I snapped. “ Tell me who you want me to fuck…. I’ll do it. Let’s get this over with so you can go back to whatever sewer you fucking climbed out of. ….”

Hoseok’s breath caught like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said and the look in his eye was a warning but I was sick of this. Sick of them all.

Jungkook turned to Hoseok with a laugh.

“You see hyung? See why I can’t let her go? If I let her scot free, everyone’s going to think I’m a pushover….that any worthless bitch can talk to me any way she wants and get away with it….” He shook his head, staring at me with a glint in his eye. “ I’m not going to choose. They are. You think you can charm your way into Hoseok’s heart and get special treatment? You think you’re ready to be a whore, Elena? Let me show you how a real whore gets treated in Hoseok’s club.”

He gripped my wrist, yanking me behind him as he stalked off down the narrow corridor that opened up into the club. I let myself get dragged out into the club dismally aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but Hoseok’s shirt. I could feel eyes on me but I kept mine on the back of Jungkook’s head as he dragged me all the way to the front. I knew what he was going to do and at this point I was just numb.

There was no point reasoning with the devil.

I glared at him as he pointed at the stage. “ Get up there.” He whispered harshly.

I stared back at him, not moving. I saw Jungkook’s jaw clench.

“Either you go up there by yourself, with your clothes on. Or I carry you up there, after stripping you naked. What’s it going to be? ”

I glared at him, pursing my lips before climbing up using the small stair in the side. I moved to the center, right in front of the stage lights, so the rest of the room would disappear. I had no wish to see any of the bastards in the room.

“I think all of you recognize this little beauty here, don’t you?” Jungkook’s voice was cheerful, friendly even and I bit my lips, fists clenched. “ Well, if you don’t let me tell you . This is Gong Hyo Suk’s daughter. Remember that bastard? He put a hit out on my father. Killed him and my mom on the night I was supposed to be marrying his fucking daughter. A daughter who later called off the wedding, because I was too poor now, to give her the life she deserved. ”

I felt the familiar ice cold guilt in my vein. I was seventeen, I wanted to scream. I was seventeen and all I did was say what my father asked me to say, do what my father asked me to do.

“ That was nine fucking years ago… and you know what I told myself…. I told myself, that a greedy little bitch like this, doesn’t deserve shit.” He laughed. “ If money’s what she values the most, then the only thing she deserves is to be treated like the whore she is.”

“Why don’t you guys tell me, how much money you’d be willing to spend, to fuck her? Come on, Hobi’s been treating you guys so well lets help him make some money tonight… be generous. ”

I could barely hear what they were calling out but when Jungkook climbed onto the stage next to me, I jumped. Moving back instinctively, I winced when brought a forearm around my throat nearly choking me as he dragged up against his body.

“90 million won….That’s a lot.” He grinned. “ Jihan hyung….. that was you right? You’re gonna pay 90 million won for her?”

I felt my heart race, it was a lot. More than enough for the Hospital Bills, would even leave extra to get a decent apartment somewhere... I grabbed his wrist as it pressed into my throat, trying to pull his hand off me but he just wrapped his free hand around my waist, wrapping his entire body around mine and chuckling into my hair.

Jungkook pressed his head against mine and I froze, hating the close contact.

“Okay…but since I’m feeling a bit left out here…Why don’t I pitch in… 500 Won.” Jungkook said loud and clear.

I froze. An eerie silence fell over the club, laughter stilling and the clink of glasses slowing down.

What.

I struggled to get away from his but his hold tightened.

“Anyone else?” He called out. “ Come on… Not even thousand? Surely you think this one here’s worth a thousand won? Aren’t you going to outbid me?”

No one responded of course they didn’t. Jungkook’s anger was palpable and no one was going to get on his wrong side …..

“Ahh… is that it then? Bid’s going to close for 500 won then…. Hear that baby?” He whispered against my ears and I swallowed. “ 90, million won to five hundred won in a few seconds… What does that tell you?”

“It tells me you’re a fucking psychopath in love with your own voice… Get off me.” I hissed.

“No. What it tells you is that only I get to decide how much that body of yours is worth, not you. . You don’t get to go sell your fucking body behind my back for two billion won and then pay off all your debts and ride off into the sunset, that is not how this works….”

I went limp in his arms fighting tears because he never played fair. Never.

“Hear that Hoseok-ah… I win her for the night for 500 won…fair and square…. Is that alright?” He called out into the darkness and I felt the first inkling of dread begin to seep in.

“No.. No… get off me.” I hissed and he laughed, dragging me off the stage with ease. I screamed, kicking out in disbelief.

Jungkook grinned at me, before grabbing both my arms and yanking them behind me, and I whimpered, unable to move as he easily pulled me along to the door that opened into the hallway. Behind us I heard Hoseok’s voice.

“Jungkook, don’t be impulsive. Think about whatever you’re going to do.”

I flinched at that, panic building.

“He’s not going to do anything. I’ll fucking kill him if he touches me , I-“

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” He shook me hard till my teeth rattled and I sobbed out.

“Jungkook…” Hoseok warned but he merely snarled.

“I know what I’m doing hyung, just…. Don’t disturb us. And make sure everyone here knows that she’s open for business.” It was loud enough to carry through the club and I felt humiliation burn my throat, acrid like acid.

I froze in disbelief.

“Jungkook …” Hoseok’s voice held a tone of reproach.

“ And tell them that her body is amazing. Tell them she spent the night with me , the best fuck I’ve ever had , mouth made for cock.”

I stared straight ahead as he pulled me all the way to the room we had left earlier and I tripped when he shoved me inside, landing on my hands and knees . I quickly rolled back around to land on my ass, crawling back as he slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

He stared down at me, mouth grim.

“You do owe me a wedding night. I was so ready to fuck your tight cunt, nine years ago… I think I’ve waited long enough yeah.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, to yell and scream and protest and fight so he could get off and forcing me…. Fucking psychopath.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“If you pay for my sister in laws bills, and give me an apartment sure. “ I shrugged. “You’re not any different from any of the bastards here. I don’t give a damn which one of you idiots wants to rut into me like the absolute animal that you are…. I don’t care…” I said softly.

“you don’t? Really? You want me to tell you what your brother said when one of my men put a gun into his mouth…. He begged for his life…said he had a kid on the way….” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. “I told him it was better than what his father did…. My sister was six months pregnant when his lieutenant gunned her down on the streets.”

I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Why are you telling me this…” I snapped.

“Because she didn’t deserve it did she, Elena? She didn’t fucking deserve to die like that , like a dog on the street when she had nothing to do with any of this…. She didn’t deserve it.” He growled, bending down and gripping my chin hard.

“Maybe she did deserve it.” I spat out. “ If I deserve to be here, maybe your sister deserved to die too. “

He snarled, hand flying to my hair and dragging me up off the floor in one sharp yank. I whimpered as he pushed me on the bed, before climbing on top of me. I felt like every bone in my body was about to snap in two, the weight of him unbearable on me.

“I won the bid tonight…. I won it fair and square… You signed the waiver didn’t you…that you agreed to the auction…I won and I’m going to fucking collect.” He growled, and I kicked out, trying to buck him off of my body.

“Get off me.” I hissed. “ I’m not letting you fuck me for 500 won.”

“How about for your Jisoo then?” He whispered and I went still.

“What?”

He chuckled, reaching down and I felt my pulse pound as he pulled his phone out, dialing quickly and turning on the speakers.

Yoongi’s voice made me go ice cold. Everyone knew what Yoongi did for Jungkook.

“Daehwan’s wife is in a hospital room in Yongsan. Hobi’s got the details. I think she’s served her purpose.”

“No!! JUNGKOOK NO!!” I  screamed , thrashing so hard my head began to spin but he grunted pressing down into me harder.

“Are you serious? I’m not home yet… I can take care of it tonight.” Yoongi said, voice casual and I sobbed, shaking my head in sheer terror.

“Okay… I’ll behave.. I promise.. please just don’t…”

Jungkook hummed.

“Well, that was easy… Yoongi-yah… why don’t you stay on the phone yeah…. Going to get that wedding night I’m owed and if my baby doesn’t co operate you know what to do, yeah?”  

I bit my lips, glaring into the sheets as he gripped my waist, pulling me up.

“Ass up like the bitch that you are, baby.” He whispered and I felt my entire body shudder in disgust. It was worse because I hadn’t done this before. Didn’t know what to expect. But I couldn’t let him know that. If Jungkook knew that I was a virgin, I could just imagine how much fun he’d have with that info.

Hands gripped my wrists, pinning them to the bed and I turned my face away when I felt the press of his lips on my cheeks. He gripped both my wrists with one hand, keeping them pinned over my head and I flinched when I felt his fingers pulling the fabric of my panties aside, just enough for the blunt head of his cock to press against my slit.

“Yoongi, you there?” Jungkook said softly and Yoongi grunted over the phone. I felt my face flame in embarrassment.

“You’re a sick bastard but I’m used to it. What’s up?” he said casually.

“Remember how we used to wonder just how tight Elena’s cunt was… back when we were in school.”

Fucking monster, I thought in disbelief. I hate him I hate him I hate him….

“Good times…” Yoongi chuckled lightly .

Jungkook pushed into me in one hard thrust and pain shot straight up my spine, my insides burning like he’d fucked me with a knife and not his body. I couldn’t stop the cry of agony that got torn of me, my eyes tearing up and tears spilling over onto my cheeks.

“Damn Jungkook, she okay?” Yoongi’s chuckle made me want to claw his face off, and just the urge to kill was growing inside me.

“Well, I can confirm that it is, in fact just as tight as we thought…” He grunted, thrusting into me at a pace that was inhumane, every push and drag of him rubbing my insides raw and I bit down on the sheets under me, afraid that I would do something absolutely humiliating, like beg him to stop.

“Good, you should let me take that tight ass for a ride someday then. With her permission of course…. I’m a gentleman after all. Big on consent.” He laughed and I swallowed the urge to tell him that I would puncture his balls with a switchblade if he came anywhere near me.  

“Oh, she’s going to do whatever I ask her to….aren’t you baby…” He grunted, “ Turn around so I can see you.”

He pulled out of me, his weight lifting off my body as he moved away. I couldn’t move, limbs numb and insides throbbing in pain . His palm landed on my thigh, hard and the sharp sting of it made me jump.

“I said turn around, I want to see your face when I fuck you.” Jungkook growled. I stayed limp, breathing hard and he grunted impatient, fingers sinking into my hair , yanking me to my knees and the movement made my legs scream in protest.

“How’s she so quiet? You fucked the voice out of her, kook-ah?” Yoongi asked amused and Jungkook pulled me by the hair, dragging me to the center and pushing me down till my head landed on the pillow.

“Hyung you should see her right now, all fucked out …. Like she’s never had a dick in her before.” He shook his head, “ Fucking slut. Take that off and hold yourself open for me.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending and he grabbed both my hands, placing them on my knees.

“Grab your knees and pull your legs back… So I can fuck that tight cunt the way I want to.” He said slowly, like I was a dog he was trying to train and I stared at him , defiantly.

“ Go to hell.” I whispered.

Yoongi’s laughter came from somewhere to the right.

“Your dirty talk needs work, Kook ah… Tell her she’s a precious little kitten and she makes you feel really good…. Bitches love that shit…”

Jungkook hovered over me, grabbing the back of my thighs and spreading them wide enough to make me whimper in pain.

“Is that so babygirl? You want me to tell you that? That you make daddy’s cock feel good?” He cooed, nudging the tip against me again and I had never hated anyone so much in my life. I stared up at his face, and he smiled at me, a cheeky little grin that made his bunny teeth stand out and for a second he looked so deceptively angelic and the glimmer of his piercing caught my eye.

I couldn’t help but swallow, gaze trained on the glint of metal on his tongue.

“You like that?” He grinned suddenly, sticking his tongue out for me to see, I felt my eyes widen at how sinfully good he looked .” Hyung she likes my tongue piercing.”

“Show her how it feels on her clit.” Yoongi laughed and I could barely fully process what I heard before Jungkook was crawling down my body, arms, curling on my thighs and yanking me onto his tongue .

I felt the press of his tongue on my slit, licking right into me and the jolt of pleasure was so unexpected, the pleasure so unwanted and yet so overwhelming and I couldn’t stop the way my body thrashed against the streets, lips parted as I practically mewled out in pleasure.

“Definitely a kitten…” Yoongi called out and I shuddered as Jungkook slipped two fingers into me , the ice cold press of his ring inside me making me jump. I wanted to pull away, grab his hair and yank him off but I couldn’t because it was

“Next time I’ll put the dick piercing in too, yeah? Fuck you with a bit of metal on my cock so you can feel that up there…. ” He laughed into my thighs and I screamed when he bit into the flesh there , hard.

“I’m getting bored… Either turn on facetime so I can at least jerk off to this , or I’m hanging up…” Yoongi called out .

“Hyung she clenches down on me every time she hears your voice… Just stay on for a few more minutes yeah, she tastes so fucking good, I’m gonna cum soon….” Jungkook added another finger, slipping in deep before spreading them apart inside me. I whimpered when he pushed his tongue in between the wet digits, licking into my walls and I could feel the ball of his piercing drag against my walls, ice cold and hard.

Was it fucked up that I did clench down on him again, my body apparently a slave to my base desires even as my mind screamed that he was the absolute worst bastard on the face of the planet.

“Elena, you owe me a blowjob at least for this…” Yoongi called out and I glared at the phone.

“I’ll bite your fucking dick off if you come anywhere near me.” I snapped.

“Fuck, I could get off just to that mouthy fuckhole of hers…..” Yoongi grunted.

Jungkook pulled away, climbing back up over me and lightly slapping my breasts.

“Now, how about you open that mouth and let me fuck it?”

Yoongi snorted from behind us and Jungkook glared at the phone before glaring at me again.

“Well?”

“You want to know how hard I can bite?” I said sharply, the pleasure ebbing away into nothing and resentment taking it place, the momentarily physicality of the situation fading and the reminder of who he was and who I was entering my sex addled brain.

“No.. You’re right…. But you know what, I’m not feeling it anymore. I was right.. you really aren’t qualified to be my whore. Your body…it’s frigid like a fucking popsicle…such a fucking turn off. ” He reached over and hung up on the phone.

“Now…”he whispered, leaning in closer and I yelped, when his fingers closed over my throat..” Shut your mouth and take what I give you like a grateful bitch.”

I swallowed when he pushed into me again, his pace steady as he fucked into me, eyes closed and I realized that he was almost fully dressed having just unbuttoned himself enough to get his cock out.

When he stiffened, spilling into me his eyes blew open and he locked eyes with me, wide eyed and for one horrible second he looked young and vulnerable and hurt.

I blinked as he pulled out, the sticky warm mess of his cum dripping down my inner thighs and onto the sheets.

“Well, that was much worse than I thought it would be.”  He said and I stayed on the bed as he grabbed his phone and buttoned himself back up.

He smirked at me and then reached into his pocket.

I quickly pulled myself together, ignoring the aches and pains and getting to my knees before reaching for my dress on the bed. it was kind of pointless because I still had Hoseok’s shirt on and I wasn’t going to take that off in front of Jungkook.

“Well, I’m a man of my word , Elena so…here you go..just as we discussed.” He tossed a coin on the bed and I stared at the engraved 500 on the shiny surface, feeling my rage swell inside me.

“If you still want to work out a payment plan for your sister’s bills …. Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow?” He tossed his card on the bed before  moving away to the door.

Fucking bastard.

Author’s note : My whole life is filled with regrets . 

[amourlyns]

‧ 🧟🪦💀

[ PRESERUM! 〞STEVE 〞ROGERS ]

+ FEM BLACK!READER

𝓢𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ⌕ All he needed was a few hours with you

𝓜𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒𝗇𝖾 𝓣𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗌 ━━ Me n my friend Liv ended up brainstorming this together, so I decided to write it out for her!! ➜      masterlist

𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ━━ None

⠀ | BEING AROUND YOU WAS SUCH A delight the man felt weightless. You took his breath away and swept him off his feet— he forgot the outside world, his responsibilities and… the terrors of the world. He was here, in the present with you. ❪ Steve would have to thank Bucky for this, he wouldn’t have gotten the courage to ask you out if he didn’t. ❫

It was around six am in the morning, the weather was just swell.. for once, the streets of Brooklyn died down, there was nothing more than a few stragglers and he didn’t get beaten up today so yeah today was going to be a good day today! and he would make sure of it.

The first thing on Steve’s list today was wrong you, but before he did that he needed to get a few things before you arrived— Steve was going to head over to the local flower shop and find some purple for you, you always said you weren’t too picky when it came to things like that. But something about the color purple fits so perfectly. Would a bouquet sweet pea flowers be too on the nose..? Wait no, irises and white lilies perfect.

The idea motivated Steven, his stride quickened and his heart seemed to quicken too, this man was in love. Undeniably so, and he couldn’t wait to see his lovely girlfriend, you were enchanting, and he was a love sick puppy— he’s finally got the girl that he’s been dreaming of since day one.

The only issue was.. that she was black, now her ethnicity didn’t bother Steve but apparently it mattered to others in this day in age an interracial couple would be seen as unworldly ❪ but ❫ that didn’t stop either of you, who has the right to deny you two of living each other? No one. as much as he wanted to show you off he’d have to keep the relationship hush, hush, and you were fine with that— you understood how it was… it’s just unfortunate, Steve wants nothing more than to show you off.

His thoughts come to a halt as he reaches the flower shop, the colors are dainty hints of pinks and whites paint the outside of the shop, the inside has more gold accents, you’d love this— he ordered the flowers, making sure to hold them with the utmost care.

His next stop was your place, you gave him a key to your apartment a few weeks ago. He planned to slip in undetected and make you breakfast, then wake you up once he was done with breakfast in bed and flowers. He also got you this new book you’ve been dying to read, he’d always tease you and say you’re a nerd but really? He is too.

He arrives to the establishment in around ten minutes, you weren’t too far away from him and that only made it more convenient for him, he stepped into the complex aquamarine hues gaze for the number ‘233’, a soft hum escapes him as he finds the door, keys ring and jingle as he searches for them in his satchel, once he gets a hold of them he opens your door.

Taking a quick peek around just in case you were awake— you were a pretty heavy sleeper anyways. The hazel hues of your cat Minnie gazed back at him instead, she purrs at the male ❪ Minnie was quite fond of him ❫, the tabby cat rubs against his legs, ginger fur scatters against his skin. He can’t help but smile.. His hands are still full but he manages to close and lock your door, when he does walk in, he places your flowers in a vase.

Now! time for breakfast. Steven takes out the eggs, milk, cinnamon and sugar he reached over to get the bread; today he would make french toast and some tea ❪ chamomile and vanilla ❫ you always insisted on it, whilst he cooked Minnie watched him for the whole duration, mewing in curiosity.

By the time he’s done it’s already six fifty—two, the apron that’s tied around his neck is pretty clean for the most part so he’d keep it on. Steven plates the tea, eggs, bacon and french toast. He drizzles on some maple syrup and holds the flowers in his left and the places the book in his satchel.

When he makes his way to your bed room you’re still sleeping. Fist hold onto to the linen sheets below, you’re cuddle up into the knitted blanket your mother made.. brown lips are slight agape and your hair.. well, that was a mess as well.

How many times did he tell you not to sleep with your glasses on?.. he takes a few steps towards you, removing the glasses off your face. Placing a small kiss on the bridge of your nose, and a few more on your cheek. This seems to wake you up. mocha hues are met with his aquamarine, you smile. Giggling at sight of breakfast, the book, the flowers and Steven.

He was too good to you, truly.. Steve gives you some space to stand up straight and stretch out a bit, when you do he gives you your breakfast in bed, you urge Steve to slide in into the space next to you, so he does. Cuddling up into your side, ❛ This is all real sweet Stevie, real sweet. Thank you sugar. ❜ you mumble out, a darling smile paints on to your visage.

You decide to try the food first— it was french toast, your favorite. Once your plate was clean steve decided to show you the book he got for you, shortly after, he shows you the flowers.

You adore them

The glee on your expression only made him feel glee in his heart, the next few minutes are spent with laughter, smooth conversation and few scattered kisses here and there. And he did sneak in a small dance, so yeah today was a good day!

[aithusarosekiller]

CAT REG!!!!

Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Von, why did it take a week to write 800 words' but you see, there is this thing called procrastinating over absolutely everything you do

So it took a while

And isn't that great

But at least it's out of the way now

James ushered his friends in from the cold, shutting the door behind them and walking through to the living room.

“You lot want any drinks?”

“Yeah, sure, what have you got?” James thought for a moment, then shook his head and gestured for them to follow him through to the kitchen.

“Can’t remember for the life of me, the shopping came in earlier but I was out so Re-…the neighbours brought it in so I can’t remember what I ordered and what was substituted so it's probably best if you come and see for yourselves.”

They followed him and Pete jumped up onto the counter, sitting down and looking around at the countertop opposite. “You got any of that vanilla tea from before?”

Nodding, James opened the fridge and listed off what they had to the others, Remus decided quickly but Sirius decided to take their time, eventually getting distracted by a small black mass of fur trying to sneak out of the kitchen.

“Oi, Prongsie, I didn’t know you had a cat! How could you get a cat without us knowing? We were here two days ago!”

The cat froze and so did James, Peter looked between them, taking a bite of an apple he had grabbed from the fruit bowl to his side and looking very amused. Remus seemed to be trying to decode Pete’s look but it was to no avail.

James stood still for a few moments, looking almost petrified. “Ohhh, yeah. he isn’t my cat, he belongs to the neighbours, I just said I would watch him today because he’s new so they can’t leave him alone and I wasn’t expecting any guests so…”

Sirius nodded and stepped forwards, reaching out to stroke the cat, barely reacting when it hissed and dug its feet into the ground.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Can probably smell Padfoot from the walk here. Ah, well, cute little guy though.”

Peter snickered and James shot him a warning glance that heavily resembled his mother. Pete looked down and used his hand to muffle the laugh but it had already caught the attention of the other two.

“What? What is it?” Sirius stepped towards Peter, their face a mix of confusion, curiosity and disappointment. “What do you know that I don’t?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing.” Sirius turned her head to James and raised an eyebrow.

“Dunno, don’t ask me. Pete’s probably just in one of his weird moods.”

“I don’t go in weird moods! I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Remus was looking between them all, seeming very confused and slightly wary, casting a few small glances towards the cat in suspicion. He had an idea of what could be going on but just couldn’t put his finger on it yet.

They all stood around as James went back to making the drinks, moving on the conversation swiftly.

As they all forgot about what had just happened, the cat seemed to give up on sneaking out and leapt up onto the countertop next to James, watching as he sorted out everybody’s drinks.

James instinctively gave the cat a small nudge towards the edge of the countertop. “Regulus, get off the count-” He only realised what he had said when he heard the others stop talking and go silent, staring at him with weirdly blank expressions, like it was still sinking in. The cat seemed to notice at the same time and slowly sat down on the counter, giving James a hard glare.

“What?”

He slowly turned around to face Sirius, offering an awkward smile and shrug. “What?”

“Why does your neighbours' cat have the same name as my brother?”

James stood with his mouth hanging open for a few minutes, desperately trying to make up an excuse.

“I mean Regulus does mean the heart of the lion, no? And a cat is a small lion so…”

That only seemed to make Sirius more suspicious. He narrowed his eyes and crossed her arms.

“Why have you been analysing the meaning of my brother’s name?”

James didn’t have an answer for that and Remus noticed what was happening.

“Ohh!”

Peter started to chuckle and the cat grew larger at James’ side, morphing into a young man with black hair that fell just past his shoulders and a smirk on his face. He had his legs crossed and an elbow on one knee, a hand holding up his chin.

“Well, this is going to be interesting. James, love, can you make me a cup too? Not decaf, I need the caffeine to get me through this argument I can sense approaching. Thanks, dear.”

He put emphasis on the pet names, eyes flickering to Sirius each time to try and spot her reaction.

“James…”

“Yes?”

“Why is your neighbours' cat my brother? And why is he calling you love?”

“I believe we may need to sit down for this.” He put an arm around Regulus’ shoulders and leaned closer to whisper into his ear.

“I actually hate you so much right now.”

“I know, darling, I know.”