#like seriously if you’re able to go see women perform

[ghostlemon36]

Just got home from the P!nk concert and I’m having feelings

[dogxyears]

"if i didn’t care about doing right and didn’t feel uncomfortable doing wrong, i should get on capitally." — jo march, little women.

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed adrienne "adri" hasani walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who she is? they kind of look like ayesha madon and i could be wrong but i think that they might be 26 years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last 4 years. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of jo march from little women. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at lagoon library as a librarian. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the the isolato of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty stubborn at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty compassionate to me.

STATS:

full name: adrienne sabriya hasani

nicknames: adri or bust. her mom has been known to call her by her middle name on occasion, but anyone else will catch an extremely withering glance if they attempt it.

birthdate: april 5

zodiac: aries sun / pisces moon / sagittarius rising

age: 26

pronouns: she / her

orientation: bi

birthplace: tulsa, ok

current residence: palmview, fl / sunset villas #1B

BIO: tw briefest, vaguest mention of her immigrant family not having a great time growing up in the south, that's literally it

adri hasani came into the world screaming her head off, and if you ask maryam and sufian hasani, she never closed her mouth again. from a young age, her burning curiosity had her constantly asking questions, a trait which almost everybody in her life found annoying — luckily, though, her teachers were more than happy to have an engaged pupil for once.

although growing up in the southern US wasn't the kindest to an immigrant family putting down new roots, adri's parents were nonetheless able to establish a home in the heart of oklahoma. as complicated as her relationship with her hometown still is (and as much as she really, really doesn't want to go back anytime soon) she has grown to appreciate it.

as she reached her teenage year's, adri's relentless curiosity and stubborn streak started to come to a head. despite her excelling academic performance, she found herself growing frustrated. her doctor parents couldn't understand that her intellect was better suited for sticking her nose in a book and drifting off than for studying anatomy and physiology, and the disconnect continued to grow between them.

somewhere in their hearts, the hasanis really thought that adri would have a change of heart herself and end up pursuing medicine, or any other field they deemed suitably serious. when it became clear that her intentions were to study literature, they issued an ultimatum — adri was free to pursue whatever she wanted academically, but her parents would not support her, either financially or even in name.

adri was heartbroken, and her last semester of high school was spent at odds with her parents, spending as much time out of the house as possible, and working brutal hours to save up for tuition down payments and housing. in the end, of course, she made it happen, and was accepted to her dream program in literature and library sciences.

the spring turned into summer and adri continued to spend most of it away from her family, further deepening the fracture between them. her one solace in this time was her high school best friend, who spent the summer keeping her busy and her mind occupied, all the while harboring a secret — they had gotten into a different school entirely, and wouldn't be following adri to the state university. finding herself heartbroken once again, adri lashed out in a way she still regrets — she hasn't spoken to the friend since, though they cross her mind constantly.

the break in both her family's relationship and her relationship with her best friend was, in a way, a blessing, adri thought. at least, it cleared her mind enough to focus wholeheartedly on her studies, finishing her degree in record time while pursuing work study opportunities to stay afloat.

when the ticking time bomb of university ending finally reached a head, adri realized she didn't know what she wanted to do next — could she go home to her parents, who had since softened on their stance and invited her to visit, but offered no apologies for their behavior?

just when she thought she might have no choice, an advisor recommended her for an assistant lagoon library position, with the opportunity for advancement, that she knew was everything adri needed: a fresh start, a good job, some sunshine, and best of all, the advisor knew people in the area and was able to help her find a place to live and roommates. it all fell together so perfectly, adri couldn't possibly consider saying no...right?

of course, she said yes. now in her fourth year of living in palmview, adri was promoted a couple years ago and now runs a good deal of the library operations, spending all of her work time and much of her free time to keep it running smoothly, especially the children's section.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

high school best friend — i left it intentionally blank in terms of gender/etc so it could really be anyone her age or close. i'm also willing to tweak her city of origin if that's of interest to you!

university friends / colleagues

friends to get coffee and go on book dates with, hello

i am a true sucker for any sort of slow (and i do mean slow burn) friends to lovers type of shit

maybe even a cute fling, past or present? adri chronically takes everything so seriously so i would love to see her just have a stupid little fling and relax for once

[meryton-etc]

directors commentary from any fic!!!! and also ⭐⭐⭐ please infodump about anything about your fics omg

Franziska is not a quiet person. She wishes she were, because it makes things easier for women, sometimes, to be in the corner.

That feeling when you realise that society prefers quiet women and you’re congenitally unable to shut up

Her brother is quiet, except for when he’s performing, be that at work or at home.

Miles Edgeworth would like to be left alone, although he’s showy. He and Franziska are both showy.

He’s constantly on at work, and then at home there are always people to reassure in some capacity or the other. Neighbours, or friends of dear friends, and so Miles Edgeworth is a part to be played.

He’s chosen an important role in an important profession, and there are pros and cons.

There are only a few people with whom he can be quiet. She’s one of them. The Defence Attorney is another.

Franziska doesn’t name Phoenix Wright at all in her internal monologue in this fic. This is because he annoys her, even as she recognizes that he's nothing but a positive presence.

Miles Edgeworth will sit and observe, sip his tea, and think whatever thoughts are filling his foolish brain at that point in time.

He’s thinking either about the steel samurai or tea or his dog or how pleased he is with the layout of his kitchen.

Franziska has never seen the point of observing if there is no corresponding action. Therefore, she comments on what she sees. If she doesn’t, then she is keeping the information for a more appropriate time. The key difference between herself and her brother is how and when they choose to verbalise what they see.

Sometimes Edgeworth sees things and lets them go. Franziska will live her entire life and never once do this.

But there is something about Maya Fey that silences her. They say, in English, tongue tied? Well, then, Maya Fey ties her tongue.

She’s hoping in more ways than one hahaha no but seriously Franzi has no game and doesn’t know how to speak if she’s not talking about work and maybe politics.

It’s not that the observation stops. Franziska’s powers of observation are active always. Even in dreams. Especially in dreams. But Franziska sees Maya, and everything is clear, all at once. Everything you could want to see, or know. She captures the attention – not because of the noise – not just because of the noise.

Homage to Sondheim’s Company – (“not because you’re bright / not just because you’re bright!”). I listened to Company a lot writing this. Bobby reminds me a lot of Franziska in this – learning you need a new language to start talking to people is difficult.

And Franziska doesn’t know how to start speaking. She falters, and lets herself follow trails that peter out into nothing. She tries to answer a simple question and ends up staggering around, spinning in circles, and choking out something nonsensical and foolish.

The Phoebe Bridgers song ICU includes the lyric “I used to light you up,” which is such a good description of how that it feels.

Oh, Franzi? How are you doing?

And Franziska laughs, and shakes her head, and says something that doesn’t answer the question.

This happened to me once. How are you? Oooh, you know, Haha, well, haha, not great!! I think the friend I was with at the time has forgotten. I pray that she has, anyway. I nearly died of embarrassment.

She is awed to be in this space, in the village that Maya leads so selflessly, so fearlessly;

Franziska is experiencing the awe of noticing just how competent someone is while also realising that they're very attractive

to be able to picture her here accurately now, gliding through the wooden hallways, blessing the small roads with her presence, her dedication, her fierce step.

“Rebel Girl!” plays loudly in the background.

[lovehealgrow]

Are You Experiencing Worker Burnout?

Do you dread going to work? Does thinking about a career you used to enjoy bring you apathy at best and make you want to break down in tears at worst? Does nothing about work motivate you any more, and you feel like you’re just barely scraping by? If so, you might be experiencing worker burnout.

If that sounds like you, you aren’t alone. A survey of over 10,000 workers in six different global economies found that nearly 40% of workers feel burned out. It impacts all social demographics, but Millennials, Gen Z, and women are the most affected. Today, let’s talk about worker burnout and see how you can find ways to cope– and maybe even start feeling a little better.

What Is Worker Burnout?

Worker burnout is a state of physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion caused by prolonged stress or overwork in the workplace. It’s more than just feeling tired or stressed out; it’s a chronic condition characterized by feelings of cynicism, detachment, and a sense of ineffectiveness. Burnout can affect anyone in any profession, from office workers to healthcare professionals to teachers, and it’s a serious mental health concern. Remember, burnout is not a sign of weakness; it’s a signal that something needs to change.

Recognizing Worker Burnout

Recognizing the signs of worker burnout is crucial for addressing it effectively. Here are some common signs that you may be experiencing burnout. These signs can be symptoms of other conditions, like depression or anxiety, but if they’re linked to your feelings about work, burnout may be likely.

Physical Exhaustion: Constant fatigue, feeling tired even after getting enough sleep, and experiencing physical symptoms like headaches, muscle tension, or even gastrointestinal issues.

Emotional Exhaustion: Feeling emotionally drained, overwhelmed, and unable to cope with stress. You might feel irritable, moody, or emotionally numb.

Cynicism and Detachment: Developing a negative or cynical attitude towards work, colleagues, or the organization. You feel detached or disconnected from your job and the people around you.

Decreased Performance: Experiencing a decline in work performance, productivity, and quality of work. It’s difficult to concentrate, make decisions, or stay focused on tasks.

Lack of Motivation: Losing interest or enthusiasm for your work, feeling apathetic or indifferent towards your responsibilities and goals.

Increased Absenteeism: Taking more sick days or time off from work than usual, either due to physical illness or just needing a break from work.

Difficulty Sleeping: Having trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, or experiencing restless sleep patterns due to stress and worry about work.

Changes in Behavior: Engaging in unhealthy coping mechanisms such as overeating, substance abuse, or withdrawing from social activities. You may avoid work-related conversations or social interactions with colleagues.

Decreased Satisfaction: Feeling dissatisfied or unfulfilled with your job, despite previous enjoyment or fulfillment.

If you notice these signs in yourself or someone else, you need to take them seriously and take steps to address them. Ignoring burnout can lead to further deterioration of mental and physical health, as well as long-term negative consequences for both the individual and the organization.

Coping with Worker Burnout

So if you think you may be experiencing burnout… what do you do next? It’s all well and good to know what burnout looks like, but realistically, you have to work. Most people in the US live paycheck to paycheck, and taking time away from work simply is not feasible for most of us. Additionally, with so much of ourhealth insurance tied to healthcare, even if you could leave work for a long period of time, you might not be able to get the treatment you need.

It’s not fair. Mental unwellness is never fair, but take a deep breath. You’re strong, and you can get through this. Here are some coping strategies you can use to help get through the depths of worker burnout.

Self-Care Practices

One of the most important coping strategies for dealing with burnout is prioritizing self-care. Taking time for yourself is not selfish; it’s essential for maintaining your overall well-being. Engage in activities that bring you joy and relaxation, whether it’s going for a walk, practicing yoga, reading a book, or spending time with loved ones. Make self-care a non-negotiable part of your routine, just like any other work task.

You should also cultivate hobbies and interests outside of work that bring you joy and fulfillment. Whether it’s painting, gardening, playing music, or cooking, having hobbies can provide a much-needed escape from work-related stressors and help you reconnect with your passions. And despite what hustle culture says, don’t worry about monetizing them or what you can get out of them. Your hobbies should bring you enjoyment and relaxation; they shouldn’t be another form of stress.

Self-care can also include physical activities. This is especially important if you have a desk job; sitting all day can lead to health issues like chronic back pain and even vascular issues. Engaging in regular physical activity is a natural mood-lifter that helps reduce stress and anxiety. You don’t have to go hard; a short walk in nature or around the block, or a leisurely bike ride can help you cope.

Practicing Mindfulness

Incorporating mindfulness practices into your daily routine can help reduce stress and promote mental clarity. Mindfulness involves paying attention to the present moment without judgment, which can help break the cycle of rumination and worry. Try incorporating mindfulness techniques such as deep breathing exercises, meditation, or mindful walking into your day to cultivate a sense of calm and presence.

Making Changes At Work

You deserve a work-life balance, which means that work stops at the end of the workday. Learn to set boundaries to protect your time and energy. Saying no to additional tasks or commitments when you’re already overwhelmed is not a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of self-respect. Establish clear work-life boundaries by designating specific times for work and personal activities. This means turning off email notifications outside of work hours and resisting the urge to check work-related messages during your downtime. If you’re not getting paid for your time, it does not belong to your boss. Period.

Time management at work can also make a big difference. Breaking up your workday can help you with the overwhelming slog of work that your job can turn into when you are trying to work through burnout. Break tasks into smaller, manageable chunks and prioritize them based on importance and urgency. Use tools such as to-do lists, calendars, and time-tracking apps to stay organized and focused. Remember to schedule regular breaks throughout the day to rest and recharge.

If burnout is pervasive within your organization, consider advocating for change or seeking assistance from HR or management. Addressing systemic issues such as excessive workload, poor communication, or lack of support can help create a healthier work environment for everyone.

Seeking Support for Worker Burnout

Don’t hesitate to reach out for support when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Talk to a trusted colleague, friend, or family member about your feelings and experiences. Sometimes, simply sharing your thoughts and emotions can provide relief and perspective. Consider joining a support group or seeking professional help from a counselor or therapist who can offer guidance and strategies for managing stress. If you’d like some help dealing with worker burnout, don’t hesitate to reach out to the therapy team here at Love Heal Grow. We’re here for you!

[faramirsonofgondor]

I would like to urge everyone with a uterus inside the U.S. who doesn’t plan on having children and wants to get sterilized to get sterilized as soon as they are able to. After seeing the Alabama ruling over IVF, I have no doubt in mind that they’ll go after sterilization practices next (I have already seen chatter online about it). I would also urge you to get a bilateral salpingectomy, which is where they remove both fallopian tubes, as it has been shown to decrease the risk of some cancers.

If you don’t already know about the list, then I’d like to share it with you. There is a list of doctors in every state who are willing to perform sterilization procedures on women regardless of their marital status, age, number of children, etc. The list is linked in the google doc below.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1Djia_WkrVO3S4jKn6odNwQk7pOcpcL4x00FMNekrb7Q/htmlview

However, if you are planning to get sterilized, I would also urge you to look into Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome and the risks associated with the procedure. I’ve been told that if you are on a hormonal birth control that your periods may worsen after being sterilized because your hormones are no longer being regulated the same way. Planned Parenthood estimates that tubal ligations cost between $0-$6,000 even without insurance. The median price is about $2,880 to $5,163.

*Please note that the cost of a tubal ligation is typically less at outpatient clinics than it is at a hospital*

I would also urge you to get it done asap because as of right now the Affordable Care Act states that insurance plans must cover birth control (INCLUDING STERILIZATION) without a copay or coinsurance even if you haven’t met your deductible. However with the upcoming election and how things are looking that might not be an option in the near future.

I’m not saying any of this to fear monger or cause a panic, I just want everyone out there to be aware of the options they have right now and remind them of the very likely possibility that they might be gone in the near future. I would also like to state that this is a pretty condensed overview of this situation and procedure and if you’re seriously considering it or want to learn more you should do heavier research or schedule a consult with your gynecologist. If your gynecologist is trying to refuse based on your age, martial status, etc. try looking into one of the doctors on the list. I would also recommend looking at PagingDrFran’s TikTok account which is where the list comes from - she has a bunch of info on there for people who are considering sterilization.

[eulangelo]

Aight, I’ve got a few points I wanna make and give to you (and other people who hate transandrophobia bs):

1. People have forgotten the very useful term ‘conditional privilege’, which would clear up so much of the black and white thinking when it comes to talking about different forms of systemic oppression. Damn near ALL of us have some sort of conditional privilege, whether we want to admit it or not. This is specifically helpful when talking about social issues between different minority groups because it acknowledges both, the oppression and the privileges we have, while giving room for there to be nuance.

2. Men who are also minorities in other ways (being trans or non-white or not straight for example), will still have access to certain privileges that the women who they share these communities with will not have access to because of misogyny. The ‘conditional’ part only comes into play when it comes to those men challenging white cisheteronormative ways of thinking which will make them targets of bigotry. Since so many transmascs like to bring race into this conversation, here’s an example: while black men are definitely targets of rampant anti-black racism, they still hold privilege over black women and often are the first ones to spread misogyny within their own community, which in turn causes even more harm to black women (especially black trans women) since they already didn’t have access to same privileges given to white people and men.

3. That kid who responded to you claiming that you need to ‘listen to trans men of color’ while linking literally only 5 other transandrophobia truthers of color while I’ve seen hundreds of trans men/transmascs of color talk about how much they HATE the term gives me the same vibes when white kids try to tokenize their friends of color to prove a silly ass point 😂 And yes, they’re black but going back to my previous point: just because someone is a part of a certain community does not make them the spokesperson of that community. Being black and transmasc simply means you’re a person who has the lived experiences of being in both of those communities, not that you get to call the shots on what’s acceptable or not in either of them. Especially, if you’re only trying to use your identity to ‘prove someone wrong’ and not actually have legitimate sources or reasons behind the existence of this term.

4. My last point (I promise 😉): transandrophobia truthers want the privileges of being men while still being able to claim the victimhood of being women and it very much has it’s roots in the white victimhood mentality that they often can’t shed, even after they’ve come out and/or started to transition. This may sound mean or harsh but honestly, a lot of the white/white passing trans men and transmascs who push this term so hard still have white womanhood to fall back on. They’re still used to their voice being the one that’s taken seriously, even by cis men. That is a specific kind of privilege afforded only to white women (or those perceived as such 👀). They want the treatment that they see cis men get for being men, yet still want access into women’s spaces (particularly those where trans women are uplifted) so they can speak over women without being called out on their blatant misogyny.

Like, this is something I can attest to personally: whenever I hung out with white trans men irl, I could not feel safe around them because of the egregious amount of racism and misogyny they carried with them. They would always find a way to blame women either for not accepting their aggressive performances of cishet masculinity or for the way feminine men are treated by cishet society when they still got called out on their misogyny while they did the ‘uwu soft boy’ aesthetic.

I genuinely think the only reason so many transandrophobia truthers exist is because they want to gain a ‘monopoly’ on oppression while never taking any accountability for their own bigotry, specifically towards trans women/transfems. And to be even more honest: I don’t think trans men/transmascs have such hyper specific issues that really call for a term all their own. This is just my opinion but every single issue they have tried to bring up as ‘unique’ to trans men/transmascs…is literally something we share with other trans people or TME people. Reproductive rights and proper prenatal care (literally sharing it with cis women and nonbinary folks who aren’t transmasc). Assault based on our genitalia (literally can happen to anyone, even trans women). 😐😐😐 like…c’mon now…

yeah i p much agree with everything, and ive seen the op of that post saying that transandrophobia is the intersection of the transphobia+misogyny that trans men face (quoting word for word). to me that whole movement is literally just rebranded radical feminism with trans men being the focus instead of cis women. they will gladly play the victim whenever called out and absolutely refuse to own up to their wrongoings in a way that's typical of white cis feminism, where they believe they can do no wrong and that whoever calls them out is a predator/aggressor that wants their death or physical harm. similarly to them they revolve their activism on genitals and biological sex, saying "transandrophobia is the oppression against trans people who menstruate" or bringing up the reproductive health issue to back up why we need a term to talk about these transmasc-only issues (despite completely ignoring afab nonbinaries who arent men or masc-aligned). they will also pretend to be progressive and supportive of any and all identities yet they have no issues when misgendering a trans person they disagree with (not only has this happened to me, there's witches-of-color and visibility-of-color who were the victims of an actual harassment campaign perpetrated by transandrophobia truthers and they were repeatedly misgendered and had their gender identity invalidated multiple times by them) because deep down i think they know they don't really give a shit about making activism for transmascs, they just want to center any and all discussion of trans issue over them to discredit transfems and to not be held accountable for their tme privilege at all. it is a highly dangerous mindset and it should only be publicly condemned.

[avintagekiss24]

Hi! I don't want to start anything on here and am always willing for civil conversations. At this point there's so much I've found out about Seb (besides the video he liked, the tommy lee thing, and the girlfriend thing) that I feel so guilty if I would continue to support him. I love him sm but it just doesn't look good rn. He is associated/follows an organisation (for helping veterans) that has posted a blue lives matter flag picture and who's co-founder has sexual assault allegations against him, and worked with him in 'The last full measure'. His friend Paul Walter Hauser has done blackface in the past, and when called out on it he just listed a few people that also did blackface. There's more, I found a discussion on here that I can link. I seriously don't support "cancel culture" bc I don't think it helps anyone but there are just a lot of 'mistakes' and shady people that can be linked to Seb, I wish it wouldn't be that way. I honestly don't know what to think about it anymore.

Hi! I’m also open to having civil conversations and I don’t believe you’re trying to start anything. I really do think this situation of dragging up a four year old video and taking it completely out of context is harmful not just to Black people, but to fandom/activism in general. This is gonna be long because I’m going to take your points one by one, and I want to preface this by saying that I will not answer any derogatory, sideways asks pertaining to this subject. I will delete every single one and will block your silly ass. I’m not going to argue with people who think I’m blindly supporting Sebastian because I’m just trying to get fucked by him, or people who think I hate myself and am trying to appease some white man.

So, on with the discourse!

The video he liked - this video was taken completely out of context and that is my main issue with this whole situation. It was not a video of a white man saying that he thinks he should be able to say the n word as everyone claimed it was. They were quickly debating on whether or not it's okay to say in rap lyrics. He was told no, that's not okay, that's never okay and they moved on from it. That's it. End of story. That somehow was twisted into a click bait style headline of "Sebastian Stan likes a video of a white man defending his right to say the n word" when that is absolutely not true. My other issue is that people are more upset that Sebastian liked the video than they are about the white man in the video literally saying the n word. So, do you really care about the use of the n word like you're claiming? Cuz if you do, you'd be more upset at the white man that said the word than you would be about the white man simply liking the video. Or, are you just using this as an excuse to grandstand against a white man you don't like?

The Tommy Lee thing - Sebastian Stan playing Tommy Lee does not make Sebastian Stan a bad person. Is Charlize Theron a bad person for playing Aileen Wuornos, a prostitute who started murdering men? Is Leonardo DiCaprio a bad person for playing a slave owner? Is Edward Norton a bad person for playing a nazi sympathizing racist? Actors play bad people. That doesn't mean that they themselves are bad people. 1990's Tommy Lee was a bad person, but that should have no bearing on who Sebastian Stan is or his character as a man.

The gf/Paul Walter Hauser thing - Why are we holding Sebastian accountable for what the people around him are doing? Again, why are we more upset that Sebastian is associated with people who have done questionable things than the specific people themselves? I'm not going to speak on the kimono wearing -- I'm not Asian. It's not my place to say whether or not its offensive because it's not my culture, but she posted that picture and attended that party before she started dating Sebastian, quite possibly before she even knew him. Same with Paul. I think that black face thing was long before he knew Sebastian. Now, if Sebastian was defending these actions, going around saying "I think it's okay for white women to wear Kimono's" "I think black face is fine" "I think white people should be able to say the n word" then we'd have a different story, wouldn't we? But that's not what we have, and that's not what he is doing. He is not responsible for the things his friends do or have done in the past just because he's more famous than they are, and he is not required to speak on them. Let's put it this way -- would you be comfortable having to be responsible for something a friend of yours did before you knew them? Would you want to have to be forced to answer for your friend when you yourself had nothing to do with the questionable behavior?

The organization that supports the military/blue lives matter - Sebastian cannot control what message that foundation puts out and it does not mean that he is or is not pro-police himself. There is not enough concrete evidence -- if any evidence for that matter -- that Sebastian is a blue lives matter supporter. Did Sebastian donate before they put up the blue lives matter post? Or after? I don’t know, cuz I don’t follow him that closely, but if he donates before they come out with a particular stance, that means he should be held accountable for that? I know I donated to an organization once and they turned out to support something that i’m 100% against. That means I’m a bad person because I couldn’t see into the future? Another point, how can we be certain that Sebastian saw the blue lives matter post in the first place? I know I’m not online 24 hrs a day, I miss posts all the time and I’m just an average person. I make three or four tumblr posts a day, and I’m gone. I have to play catch up on social media, and even then, I still miss stuff. So I’m sure the same happens to a working actor. As for the co-founder, I don't know who this person is and would rather not get into any allegations against them because I don't want to trigger anyone who comes across this post. If Sebastian knows about these allegations, is a willing participant/supporter of this person then yeah, that's pretty shitty, but we don't know the inner workings of this friendship/acquaintance/work relationship. We don’t know how close they are or if they even still speak.

I’m a pretty big fan of Don Cheadle. He’s a stand up guy, he’s a great actor, he’s funny, he’s political and stands up for what he believes in and in a very public way. I support him. Don Cheadle is also friends with Chris Evans, RDJ, Mark Ruffalo, and Letitia Wright (just to name a few). Chris Evans has a bipartisan forum that highlights/promotes right wing politicians, RDJ defended Chris Pratt during the whole “he’s the worst Chris in Hollywood” crap, who’s technically done black face, and who once said to a female reporter “nice tits” when she walked into the room, Mark Ruffalo just walked back his support of Palestine, and Letitia Wright retweeted/supported an anti-vaxxer/anti-trans Pastor who equated an ingredient of the covid vaccine to the devil because it contained some parts of the word Lucifer. Does that mean Don is now a bad person because he’s friends with these people? Why isn’t he getting any heat for his friendships with them? Why isn’t he being held accountable for what they’ve done and said? Oh right, because he’s not a white fave. So people don’t care one way or the other, which brings me to my next point. 

I can guarantee you that if Sebastian’s gf or Paul or this co-founder were not associated with Sebastian in any way, nobody would give a shit about her wearing a kimono, about Paul doing black face, or about the co-founder/organization being blue lives matter supporters and in that lies the actual problem. Being critical of people and their actions should be consistent and should happen all the time -- not just when they interact with your white fave. That’s when it becomes performative and looks like you just want to be able to show internet people that you follow/support/stan unproblematic celebrities, when really, you don’t care.

I think the moral of this post is that I think it's unfair to hold a complete stranger to a standard that I cannot hold myself to. I also don't view celebrities the way most teenagers/twenty somethings do, and that’s because when I entered fandom we didn't have social media, so I grew up with a wall between myself and said celebrities. There is no wall now with the presence of social media. "Fans" nowadays have a weird ownership feeling over celebrities because they can read their personal thoughts or view personal pictures and think that they have this personal quasi-friendship with them. I can't get on board with that. I prefer having the wall and I still keep the wall.

If supporting Sebastian makes you uncomfortable, then by all means, stop supporting him. Just make sure you are making this decision for yourself based on credible sources and concrete evidence and that you're not letting this fake woke activist mob make you feel uncomfortable. Internet activism means nothing unless you put your money where your mouth is in your real life and 90% of the social justice internet warriors do not. Real activism is bigger than changing your avi to a black square.

[jadegrey711]

Trouble

Soft dark!Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! So recently I’ve become absolutely obsessed with both @navybrat817​ and @stargazingfangirl18​ who both write absolutely amazing stuff and I want to be them when I grow up. So when I found out Siri was doing a 5k writing challenge i figured i’d throw my hat in the ring and maybe get out of this depression writing slump. 

So I decided to make a vey very very! Soft!Dark Andy Barber x Fem!Reader. Seriously it’s like Dark Light lol. But I hope you all like it! I hope to do another one before the month is over but let’s see shall we? 

*NOT MY GIF. Credit in the TAGS*

Word Count:1484

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

WARNINGS: Sexual Situations (18+ ONLY), Overstimulation, possessive Andy, deeply jealous Andy, Oral sex (F Receiving), Vaginal sex. 

Other warnings include very mediocre writing. 

He watched you from a distance as he continued talking with his fellow associates, making sure to keep a watchful eye on you as you chatted with the wives. He smirked to himself knowing you must be bored out of your mind, but you did it for him and he loved you for it. 

Suddenly though, Andy watched as Neil Logiudice approached you from behind, putting a hand on your arm. You seemed startled for a minute and then smiled, putting your hand on top of his and Andy saw red. 

He barely registered what the others in his group were talking about. Because his gaze was focused solely on you and Neil and how cozy you were in each other’s company. How you and the other women laughed at some joke he made and about how in the three minutes he had been standing there he hadn’t been able to keep his fucking hands off of you. He felt like breaking each one of those fingers, making sure he let Neil know that he was never to touch you again. He could feel his whole body vibrate with violence as he continued watching, knowing you were none the wiser. 

Neil was nice enough and he was an associate of Andy’s so when he put his hand on your arm to get your attention you let it slide, putting your hand on top of his and gave it a friendly pat fighting the urge to swat it away immediately. You were at a party full of Andy’s work friends and associates so making a scene over something small would not be a good impression on either your part or Andy’s; so you let it slide and you let the other four times he touched you slide as well. Even as you were mentally flinching each time he did it. After the fourth time you looked around the room for Andy, looking for an escape of some kind and immediately found him; across the room and boring holes into the back of Neil’s head with that dark gaze. 

You took that as your cue to quickly excuse yourself, saying that it was getting rather late and you should go and find Andy. Everyone waved you off as you departed from the group and over to where Andy was. 

“Hi honey.” You smiled, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers with his and while everyone else in the group was still talking you heard Andy sigh and grip your fingers back; turning his face towards your he gave you a small smile. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He whispered in your ear.

“Definitely!” You whispered back. Before you plastered a smile on your face as Andy said goodbye to everyone and then put his hand on the small of your back and guided you out the exit. 

**

Later that night after you both had gotten home, gotten into bed and as Andy had your leg over his strong shoulder while he devoured your soul between your legs did he bring up Neil. 

You writhed on the bed, your fingers tangled in Andy’s hair as you felt your orgasm coming on fast with the pace he was eating you out at. When suddenly Andy surprised you. 

“You good friends with Neil now?” he asked nonchalantly against your folds, before he sucked harshly on your clit. Making you groan. 

“What?” you asked confused at what he was possibly asking you right now as he was sucking all rational thought out through your pussy. 

“Are you good friends with Neil?” He asked again, giving your clit another harsh suck. And you felt your legs convulse. 

“What the fuck Andy?” You asked but the sound of his name was more of a moan as he added two of his fingers and pumped your sweet pussy. 

Andy didn’t give for a minute as he continued to suck and lick at your folds until you finally came, but instead of gently working you through your orgrasm, his fingers kept their harsh pace as he looked up at you. 

“You seemed like real good friends when you let him put his fucking hands on you.” He growled as he placed an open mouth kiss on your pussy. His other hand pulling the hood of your clit back before placing another one of those kisses there and sucking it again. 

“Fuck! Andy! I’m gonna come again.” you cried out, feeling that the pleasure was starting to be too much for you. But the way that you started to pull on Andy’s hair to pull him off or the way your hips turned away from him his touches didn’t deter him one bit as he continued with his interrogation. 

He leaned up from you and watched his fingers stroke in and out of you before he added a third one, earning a low whine from you as you felt yourself building up to another orgasm.

“You didn’t answer my question sweetheart. Why did that fuck think he could put his hands on what is mine?” 

“Andy.” you moaned, trying to get away from his touch but he wasn’t having any of that as he placed his heavy bicep over your stomach, keeping you there at his mercy. 

You felt that sinful tongue run through your folds again, his thick beard scratching your thighs adding whatever sensations you were feeling to new heights. Then he pulled out his fingers so he could fuck you with his tongue now. Your third orgasm coming like a runaway freight train. You felt your toes curl as your third orgasm washed over you making you lift from the bed like Andy was performing an exorcism on you. 

You felt tears in your eyes as you tried again to pull away from Andy’s touches feeling your thighs tremble uncontrollably now but Andy wasn’t stopping not until he got what he wanted from you; not until he got an answer for why Neil thought he could put his hands on what didn’t belong to him. 

“Fuck Andy! Stop!” you sobbed. “He just came up to me. I didn’t want to make a scene about some guy putting his hand on my arm so I didn’t do anything  about it. I knew you were right there if I felt uncomfortable and I did; so I left.” you cried out, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks. “Please honey stop.” you sobbed. 

You watched in relief as Andy pulled his plump lips away from your aching pussy, and felt your pussy clench at the sight of his beard absolutely drenched in your juices. But your relief was short lived, as you saw the look in Andy’s eyes, the feral look they held in them. 

“He made you uncomfortable?” 

“Yes, but I came straight to you. Please Andy I can’t take it anymore baby please.” you whined. 

“I should break everyone of his fingers for laying a fucking hand on what’s mine.” He said softly, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs and you let out a small cry. You watched in relief as he climbed up the length of your body, and ladened you with soft hungry kisses, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I love you.” he said softly, giving you another soft kiss. “I’m so glad that you felt that you could just come to me when you were feeling uncomfortable. I never want you to feel that way again so next time, you’ll just stay with me the whole time okay?” 

You quickly nodded and kissed Andy back. You both just stayed there like that for a minute, him hovering and stretched over your body, ladening you with soft kisses before he pulled away from you and gave you a wicked smile. 

“But I think you have one more in you baby.” he said and before you could even react. Andy grabbed the back of each of your legs, bringing you closer to him, before he swiftly impaled you with his achingly hard cock.

Andy set a brutal pace obviously trying to get you off one more time before he loses all control. You let out a high keen, and grabbed onto Andy, your nails raking down his back; a small revenge for him absolutely wrecking you tonight all because of some asshole touching you. 

“I’m gonna fill you up so nicely baby. No one will ever have any doubt that you are mine.” he let out a low grown. “And that I’m yours.” he growled leaning down to suck and place kisses on your neck. 

Without warning your orgasm crashed over you and you were sure that if Andy wasn’t there pressing down onto you, you would’ve snapped in half from the force of it. As Andy chased his own end, he kissed the tears that were flowing down your cheeks. 

“Nothing fucks with my baby.”

[badnewbie]

hi i have a brain that can’t shut up and here’s my little pet theory on what i like to call the joker’s trick: the fact that the joker is gay and we all know it, but we cannot ever say it out loud or acknowledge it

this is literally his picture on the wiki btw. also i feel like if you’re here i don’t need to argue that the joker is gay because he literally is. we’re doing gay joker analysis 2.0 here, sir

please note that i’m about to use a bunch of sexist and homophobic language, as i generally find that the most effective way to communicate the cultural norms that i’m about to touch on.

obviously, i’m using the word ‘gay’ when i’m talking about joker as a bit of an oversimplification. i’d use ‘queer’ or maybe even ‘queercoded’ (ugh), because it’s more accurate to how joker is actually portrayed, but when i grew up, gay was still very much a slur and gay-as-a-slur, an f-word, is in fact what the joker needs to be. this is for a reason: to me, the most important aspect about the joker is that he is a creation by straight men, meant to appeal to other straight men. 

so yeah, problem solved right? the joker is the symbol for ultimate evil, so he generally represents whatever his writer thinks is the worst thing that exists and for a lot of straight men, that’s a gay dude. kinda sucks, but checks out. 

except, that’s not the whole story, because straight men friggin’ love the joker. they’re dressing up as him, they’re quoting him, kinning him, coming up with elaborate backstories for him, leaving really intense youtube comments about how he’s the only one who really gets batman about him. in other words, they think the joker is cool. they think he’s really, really, really cool. They want to be the joker

why? that actually doesn’t check out at all. sure, he’s a villain who does whatever he wants, but most villains do and most of them haven’t been able to capture the hearts and minds of straight men the way the joker has. and joker has gotten more obviously gay over the years as he’s gotten more popular, not less. straight dudes love that the joker is gay! 

time for some academic perspectives: our cultural attitude towards gayness are deeply interlinked with our attitudes towards gender roles and masculinity. and masculinity is a deeply strange concept and it is something that a lot of comics concern themselves with (see: straight men appealing to other straight men). while most comic book men are usually examples of hegemonic masculinity (the culturally ideal form of masculinity), the joker is at his core a failure of hegemonic masculinity, and him being gay is the easiest shorthand to straight men for communicating this. a true man is a straight man is a masculine man is a man who is not feminine is a man who is not attracted to men. queercoding men and failing masculinity is usually one and the same in practice.

here’s another thing about manhood: it’s often precarious. with ‘precarious manhood’, we refer to the phenomenon that manhood for men often feels like something that can be taken away from them. while being a woman is often conceptualized as something innate, for men it is much easier to be accused of not being a ‘real’ man. as such, men tend to be more pre-occupied with their own masculinity and often remain in a more anxious state in which they constantly try to re-affirm their manhood to both themselves and their surroundings.* this is what many people incorrectly refer to as toxic masculinity btw. It should also be noted that hegemonic manhood is a cultural ideal and therefore attaining it is fully impossible and this is leaving a lot of men frustrated. they reach for an unattainable goal under the treat of cultural punishment if they fail. also, this effect is generally stronger in straight men, as queer men generally already ‘know’ that they will never reach hegemonic masculinity, as it is defined through being attracted to women only, and therefore, in this aspect, they can walk the mile

so what is a frustrated straight man who is feeling like a failure of masculinity to do? well...what if there was a role model for you who is on every account a failure of masculinity too and he was thriving? what if there was a guy who’s laughing about all these gender rules and breaking them and maybe it made him even more badass? maybe there’s this complete failure of masculinity, not just walking the mile but running directly in the opposite direction and he’s scary and powerful and maybe that’s true power and maybe you are in some way even more powerful (masculine) than all those other guys who are effortlessly performing their masculinity. what then?

but is he gay? don’t worry straight men, of course he isn’t :) 

(is he gay? yeah)

(but is he?? no, he isn’t (although he is))

seriously, is the joker gay? yes! but also no! because his purpose is to be a (lol) safe space for straight men to project their anxieties about their own masculinity on. the joker has to be gay in order to be an effective failure of masculinity, but he can’t be gay because then he’s just some gay guy whose nature is just naturally different from straight men/real men and straight men can’t project on him anymore.

so yeah whoops, it’s still homophobia. but at least it’s weird homophobia. it’s what the joker would have wanted * this also can lead to much greater difficulty for women to go against their assigned gender role, which is often constricting and oppressive. i blog about this a LOT on my main, so please don’t come for me on this

[xpeachesncream]

bands | eleven

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.2k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, club scene, alcohol consumption, mentions of intoxication, mentions of dancing at the club, little bit of those insecurities coming back into play, good ol’ phone sex in the hotel room, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (m. & f. receiving), multiple orgasms, fingering, breast play, doggy style, hair pulling, slight choking, creampie

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme​ @min-nicoleee​ @eggbutnotyolk​ @ra-mun-e @miinoongi​ @jimidol​ @ppeachyttae​ @thebeebi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @kooafraid​ @liriaus​ @thisartemisnevermisses​ @ggukkieland​ @preciouschimine​ @sunniejinnie​ @cypheruby​ @cyb3rbab3​ @masterlists101​ @awhnamjoon​ @redhedhoseok​ @wooya1224​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Club tonight before we go back home?" Taehyung grips onto Jungkook's shoulders as they walked out of the venue and into their cars that would take them back to the hotel.

"Club?"

"Yeah, come on. Everyone said yes so far! It's been so long since all of us have gone to the club together without it being a special occasion." Jungkook sighs. That statement was true, and he did love being able to hangout with everyone all together. However, he can't lie - he missed you. He barely had time to text or call you this entire trip like he wanted, and he all he wanted was to hear your voice and see your face until he could finally have you physically in his arms again.

"Fuck." Jungkook does a slight head tilt before letting out a small sigh. "Yeah, I'll come along." Taehyung smiles from ear to ear, squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm sure your girl won't mind if we steal you for a little tonight." Jungkook doesn't respond to Tae's statement and simply shakes his head with a small smile. To be honest, the guys were a little surprised to see that whole thing erupt between Jungkook and Bigs. They didn't think he was actually serious about you, the mysterious girl. Jimin, on the other hand, wouldn't dare say a word and simply lent a small chuckle or smile as his participation during their 'lets tease jeongguk' hours. But eventually, it all became a running joke and the boys learned to leave Jungkook alone because as they've learned before, Jungkook does what Jungkook wants.

He gets away with shit.

He cleans himself up and throws on a button up shirt with ripped black jeans and boots, fluffing his hair a bit before he steps back out and meets up with the boys.

[jungkook] 9:49pm: going out with the boys tonight

[y/n] 9:51pm: lol cheer up, have fun party pooper

[jungkook] 9:52pm: fineeeeeeee :( can i call you later?

[y/n] 9:55pm: you can always call me, i just don't know if i'll always pick up :)

[jungkook] 9:57pm: try and stay up please

[y/n] 10:01pm: maybe lol

He slightly smirks to himself. Hopefully you'd stay up, but he was starting to realize you always fell asleep early and that was okay too. He'd just have to wait to see you when he gets back tomorrow.

Once the boys have arrived at the club of choice, security escorts them to their VIP section, the club already packed from wall to wall with people screaming left and right. There's already a few bottle girls, and other girls waiting for them in the VIP from lord knows where, but Jungkook knows he's not trying to mess with any of it tonight. He truly didn't wanna be here, but to keep his boys happy, he decided to tag along and hang out.

"So many beautiful ladies." Jimin swings his arm around his torso and smirks.

"Go get 'em, champ." Jungkook chuckles.

"I would, if they all weren't eyeing you." He shakes his head.

"She's not eyeing me, she's looking at you." He nods towards a pretty, fair-skinned female with long, voluminous black hair. She's definitely eyeing Jimin, biting onto the tip of her finger as she tries to seduce him through her eyes. Her look. "Go." Jungkook slightly pushes him towards her, smiling as he stood back and watched. The rest of the boys were already enjoying themselves, either dancing around alone [aka Min Yoongi and Seokjinnie] or hopping behind girls for a dance.

"Why aren't you dancing with anyone?" Yoongi laughs. "I figured you would be the first to hop on someone."

"I don't feel like it." He takes a sip of his drink, hand dug deep into his pocket.

"You don't feel like it, or you're too busy missing your girlfriend?" Jin joked.

"I don't have a girlfriend!"

"Mhm, sure." Jin laughs. "You could at least reward yourself with a dance." Jungkook shrugs. Technically, he could. It was just a dance, and you still weren't his girlfriend even though he thought of you pretty seriously. But he knew how this would go, and it would get messy quick - especially with the way females nowadays loved to create drama and claim him. He wasn't up for it. And he didn't wanna do anything to hurt you, or disappoint you. The thought alone makes him feel terrible. You were just so pure-hearted, there was no way he could do anything to hurt your feelings.

"Aye!" Jimin comes over and grabs him by the shoulders, swinging him around to face the ladies once more. "That girl I was dancing with is here with her bestfriend."

"And?" Jungkook chuckled. Okay, so? Lol.

"Bro, come on. Just go dance with her and have fun. She's interested in you." He shakes his head, but Jimin is already pushing him over, the force behind his movements stronger than what Jungkook can endure after the day they've had. He clumsily follows along, his lips pursed in a fine line as he approaches Jimin's girl [of the night] and her bestfriend. She had dark brown hair, stood at about 5'7 and wore high waisted shorts and a bralette-type of crop top. She was really trying for some dick tonight. He gives her a small, toothless smile as she beams from ear to ear, shying behind her bestfriend. She was cute, but she was no you, no disrespect.

"This is Yeji!" Her bestfriend exclaims, damn near throwing her right onto Jungkook like her life depended on it. Jungkook places his hands out to support her but brings them back once she's found her footing again. Definitely drunk.

"Hi." She blushes.

"Hey." Jungkook smiles back, sipping on his drink. Jimin is still hanging onto his shoulder, trying his best to egg him on and Jungkook can't help but smile and nod awkwardly at him. He attempts to back away, but Jimin shoves him closer while laughing.

"Have fun!" Jimin flashes him a quick look, confused at what the fuck he was doing right now trying to turn her down like that. But, he instantly flips the switch as he accompanies her bestfriend to the dance floor again.

"Can I get you a drink or something? Water, even?" Jungkook offers to be nice. He can already hear you scolding him in his head - pinching him on the arm and saying that he needs to be nicer to people. But to be honest, he really doesn't know what the fuck to do with her.

"Water's good, I should start sobering up." She giggles as Jungkook nods and pours her a cup of water. He hands it to her and stands beside her, awkwardly eyeing the crowd in front of them. "Hey, I caught your performance today. You looked good! You all looked really good."

"Thanks." He smiles.

"Do you wanna dance for a little?"

"Uh, actually—" Jungkook suddenly feels the both of their bodies press against each other before Jimin's drunk laugh erupts right behind his ear. Jungkook backs away with his hands up, shaking his head.

"Hey come on, if he doesn't wanna dance don't force him." Yoongi says, almost in a scolding manner.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not really in the best dancing mood right now. Pretty tired." He says to Yeji before he gives her an apologetic look and walks over to his hyungs who aren't busy with girls. He's getting more and more annoyed with the way Jimin has been acting lately, but he was trying to keep his cool - careful not to start anything. He knew Jimin wasn't a fan of you with the way he talked about you that one morning before the photoshoot. He loves him, that's his brother for life. But if he wanted to get disrespectful, he didn't have a problem putting him in his place.

Throughout the night, Yeji is sticking to her friend and Jimin, still hoping she could get something started between her and Jungkook, but she doesn't succeed. Jungkook purposely keeps his distance from Jimin and the rest of the girls around them in the VIP section, perfectly content to be staying around Yoongi and Jin.

When they've finally called it a night, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Hobi are all pretty drunk out of their minds - their asses more than ready to risk it all by sneaking in their girl of choice to their hotel rooms.

"Let me know so Yeji can come too." Jungkook waves his hand to dismiss the statement.

"Nah. I'm good, really, thanks."

"What, all of a sudden you're a goody two shoes for your stripper girlfriend?" Jungkook shoots him a look but brushes it off, blaming it on the alcohol in Jimin's system right now.

"I'm just tired and gonna head to bed, that's it."

"Whatever." Jimin drunkily responds, the four of their drunk asses continuing to be loud as hell in the hallway until they all separate and go off to their own rooms.

"Don't be loud and shit, I want my sleep tonight." Yoongi says before shutting his door.

Finally, peace and quiet.

Jungkook sighs as he looks at his watch, the time nearing 1:30am. He slips out of his clothes, takes a quick shower and gets himself ready for bed before he's shutting off the lights. A hotel bed has never felt so comfortable in his life, but the only thing that was missing was you.

And to be completely honest, he was pretty fucking horny. Having all this pent up sexual frustration just from missing you these past couple of days alone, he couldn't take it. He hopes to god you're awake right now because he's been wanting to hear your voice and hearing your voice alone—

"Jungkook." You say softly on the other line, Jungkook's eyes slightly shutting from the sound of your voice.

Your voice alone was enough to turn him the fuck on.

"You're awake, babygirl."

"Barely." You chuckle. "I'm snuggled into my sheets, but you told me to wait up for you."

"And you actually waited. Thank you, cutie." He smiles to himself. "What'd you do today?"

"Just work my shift at the restaurant, then head home. I don't really do anything outside of work and hangout with Kai, you know this." You chuckle. "How was the club?"

"It was alright." He sighs.

"Did all the pretty ladies get a dance with Jeon Jungkook?"

"Ah, but you're the only pretty lady I know about." He chuckles, making you blush. "But no, I wasn't necessarily in the mood."

"But you're at a club, how could you not be?"

"Too tired. Besides, just wanted to come back here and talk to you. I feel like I haven't gotten to talk to you as much since we've been here."

"It's okay, you need to do what you need to do."

"I can't wait to see you when I get back."

"I can't either."

"You and your pretty face."

"What is up with you? Are you drunk?" You softly laugh.

"No, not really. Why, I can't miss you?"

"Never said that, Jungkook. I miss you, too." You giggled, giving him some affection since it's been a couple of days and you actually missed his presence too.

"Yeah? How much do you miss me, baby?" Your eyes slightly widen cause you can most definitely pick up on his tone, plus the 'baby' pet name made your pussy hop a little. He wanted you, and he knew just the right ways to get to you worked up already.

"A lot."

"Mmm." He hums breathily, causing you to bite your bottom lip. "Are you gonna show me just how much you missed me when I get back?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe, what?" He chuckles deeply. "Tell me, babygirl." He begins to slowly palm himself through his boxers. "How do you want me to show you?" You shut your eyes, the heat quickly building in your core.

"Jungkook." You let out a breathy moan. "What are you trying to do right now?"

"God, I just wanna feel you." He says, completely passing up your question. "I just wanna feel you all around me. Would you like that, my pretty lady? Me all up inside you?" At this point, Jungkook is hard as hell, whipping his hardened member free from its confines. He lets out a breath at how free he feels, finally able to stroke himself nice and slow. He toys with the pre-cum pooling at his tip, using it as some kind of lubricant as he strokes himself up and down, gripping a little tighter towards the base.

"Yes." Your hand slips through your shorts and your panties, gently rubbing at your clit as you listen to Jungkook's deep voice on the other line. You slip your hand a little further down, feeling how wet you already are. You silently whimper to yourself, spreading your wetness in and around your folds, picturing Jungkook doing the work for you.

"Don't be shy, baby. Tell me what you want. Use your words."

"I want you inside of me."

"Inside where?"

"My pussy." He softly groans into the phone, his grip getting tighter by the minute as he fucks himself into his hand.

"Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yes."

"That's my good girl." He moans with you. "Just wanna fuck you so badly. Show you how special you are to me."

"Jungkook." You whine, as you slip in a finger and quickly fuck yourself with it, the sounds of your wetness echoing in your tiny space. "Fuck I'm so wet for you."

"That's it." He hisses. "Fuck yourself for me until I get back. Can't wait to taste you and fill you up."

"Want you so bad, want you to fuck me so good until I cry." You say, not even realizing the shit you're saying right now as you rub your clit and work your hips in tandem. You begin to whimper a little louder, ready to hurdle off the edge with the pressure you're applying.

"Yeah?" His mouth is agape, barely any noises being released due to the overwhelming sensation that's taking over his body. "Want me to fucking ruin you, baby? Are you ready for that?"

"Always." You moan. "Ahh—Kook, I'm gonna cum."

"Cum all around this dick, sweetheart. It's yours." The words are enough to unravel you, sending you spiraling out of control with the pleasure taking all over your body - inch by inch.

"Oh fuck, Jungkook! Ughhhhhhfffffuck." You groan into the phone as you continue to move your hips into your hand, fingers pressed tightly against your clit.

"Shiiiiiiiit." Jungkook moans as his hips are moving quicker and sloppier, the image of him ramming his cock into you from behind while choking you has him toppling him over the edge. "Mmmmmgod, babygirl."

"The fuck, Jungkook." He chuckles as he regulates his breathing.

"Just miss you, that's all." You hear him stirring in the back, probably cleaning himself up just as you are with yourself. "Stay on the phone with me?" When he does have the time to call you while he's been away, he's always asked for you to stay on the line - facetime or regular call - just so it seems like you're next to him. What you did to deserve this soft Jeon Jungkook, you had no idea. But you were gonna take it and run as far as you could, because fuck. You liked-liked him.

"Okay." You yawn.

"I can still take you out on a date, right?" He yawns shortly after, the domino effect hitting him.

"Of course." You softly chuckle, your eyes getting heavy from all the energy you just spent.

"Okay. I just wanna make sure cause I'm already planning this."

"Planning, huh?"

"Gotta put in the effort." Silence. "Night sweetheart, sleep tight."

"Night." You barely manage to say before you're off into a deep sleep.

You knew Jungkook would be back today, but you weren't sure what time. From the sounds of it, it seemed like it would be really late and you'd have to wait until tomorrow to see him. Which, bums you the fuck out. You just longed for his company and to be in his arms again because it's the safest you've felt in such a long time.

Oh, well.

At least it gave you some time to plan out Kai's birthday gift and celebration cause you still had no fucking idea. He was going to spend majority of the day with his friends at their favorite arcade, but you promised him dinner.

Were you really just going to take him to get Loco Moco from the hawaiian mom and pop shop down the street for his 18th birthday?

What the fuck were you even gonna give him?

You figured you could go shopping for some clothes? Or, check out what new games came out for the playstation that he might be interested in playing. Orrrrr find some comic books and give him--

Knock, knock, knock.

You checked your clock, startled at the heavy knocks coming from your door. It was barely after dinner, the sun still up but preparing to make its way down below the horizon. You had no idea why you suddenly felt nervous and scared, afraid of who you'd see through the peephole. Bigs popped into your head, the goosebumps hitting the surface of your skin. You really hoped it wasn't him trying to cause trouble - or anyone else related for that matter.

You slowly stood up, holding your arms closely against your chest. You tippytoed to check your peephole but it was pitch black, as if someone had been covering it with their finger. Was Kai playing games with you? Did he suddenly get dropped off or take the bus? You didn't have plans with him.

You slowly open a crack, seeing a smiley Jungkook waving at you from behind the door. You swing the door open and latch onto him like a koala, causing him to drop his duffle bag and wrap his arms around you tightly.

"Jungkook, what the fuck! You scared me!" You say into his neck, taking in his scent.

"Why?" He laughs as he gently helps you down and follows you into your apartment.

"It seemed like you weren't gonna be home till late."

"Seemed." He smirked.

"Hey!" You gently push him after you close your door. "How'd you know my door code and which apart—"

"Kai." You both say in unison.

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him." You whine.

"It's his birthday soon, though. Let him turn 18."

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill him after his birthday." You repeat as you plop back onto your bed, Jungkook dropping his duffle and plopping next to you.

"Cozy place." He says, face down onto your mattress, causing you to run your hand through his fluffy hair.

"It's teeny tiny."

"No, it's perfect. Perfectly sized and cozy." He reassures you as he finally lays on his side to face you.

"Did you just hop off the plane?"

"Sure did."

"Did you eat anything?"

"Yeah, I ate something small on the plane. I'm not that hungry."

"You sure?" You asked, genuinely concerned.

"Mhm." He throws an arm lazily across your legs as he closes his eyes for a quick minute. You continue to run your hand through his hair, a notification on his screen catching your attention.

[unknown number] 6:37pm: hi! this is yeji from the club. :) i hope you don't mind, jimin passed on your number and said we should get into contact.

First of all - Why the fuck does Jungkook have his notifications set so that you can see what the goddamn message is on the lock screen?!

Second - Yeji?

Third - Of course Jimin would have slipped her his number. He hates you for whatever fucking reason.

Another text came in from her but you pulled your eyes away from his phone. This wasn't your business. But let's be real, your heart sank a little knowing he might have been acting up at the club, dancing with hella other girls and getting hella other numbers. It kind of made your insecurities resurface all over again. You weren't his girlfriend though, none of this was exclusive. So, did you really have a right to feel this way?

You brush it off quickly, trying to remind yourself who the hell you were before Jungkook came around [but god, was he making you a softy]. He wasn't exactly yours to claim; however, you were the one he came home to. Technically. Calling you all hot and bothered cause he missed you.

Yes bitch, please.

You're pulled out of your internal battle when Jungkook stirs a little to check his phone, your hand still lightly weaving through his hair as you press your lips together. He reads the notifications, deletes it from the screen and locks his phone again.

"The boys bothering you?" You decide to ask in a way that doesn't yell 'yes I saw her pop up on your phone, sir.'

"Nah. No one important really."

"Oh okay." Bummer. You lowkey expected him to be honest with you, but was that too soon for you? You just through this in your head - this wasn't exclusive.

"Lay with me, pretty lady. Let's watch something."

"You mean finish Gone Girl?" You quickly flip the switch and smirk at him, making him laugh.

"Oh shit, that's right. Not my fault you straddled me." You slightly gasp.

"Not my fault you fucking batted your eyelashes at me, talking about ‘can I tell you something?'" He scrunched his nose and tickled your sides, causing you to yelp and crash your body back down onto the bed. He continues to tickle you until you're begging for him to stop - his body over yours, but he was careful not to put all his weight on you. "Ouch, Jungkook!" You whine.

"You finished making fun of me?"

"You started it!"

"You're so fucking cute, you know that?" He lowers himself down to your lips, pressing them gently against yours. Your hands get tangled within his hair again, pressing him down slightly onto you so you could feel him, feel his warmth. The kiss deepens quick as Jungkook settles himself in between your legs, your tongues at war with each other. He groans into the kiss, his soft, large hands roaming up your shirt and sending sparks throughout your body. "I missed you." He bites your bottom lip and sucks it gently before pulling back. He helps remove the shirt over your head before unhooking your bra in a swift motion and tossing it off to the side.

"I missed you too." You say at a whisper as he grabs both of your breasts and plants kisses along the surface before swirling his tongue around your sensitive, perked buds. He hooks onto your shorts and panties quick, aggressively tugging them down and off.

"So fucking perfect for me." He says, planting kisses along your sides

"I hate it when you do that." You hiss as he begins part your legs wider, pushing your thighs out as he lowers his lips onto your folds. You truly did hate it - you couldn't stand it only because that shit drove you crazy. Someone like Jungkook calling you perfect, god please.

"Hate what, babygirl?"

"Call me perfect like that." You let out a small whimper when you feel his wet tongue glide against your folds, slowly poking in and out of them as he stares at you from between your thighs.

"But you are. Want me to show you?"

"Hmmmm." You whine. "Quit." He slightly chuckles against your pussy, but continues going to work - slipping in two digits and curving them just to tickle you in the right spots. "Ahhhh, Kook please."

"Mhm." He says, picking up the pace with his fingers, allowing your wetness to glaze them. He suddenly removes them from you short after, a small whine leaving your lips at the loss of contact.

"Ohshiiiiiit. You're gonna make me cum." Jungkook begins to run his tongue up and down your pussy once more, his tongue penetrating your entrance ever so slightly before swiping it up to your clit to suck on it. He motorboats into your pussy, his head moving right and left in such a quick pace that you're tugging on his hair and jutting your hips into his mouth. His tongue starts to pet your clit with its tip - the repeated movements enough for you to reach your climax, your thighs almost keeping Jungkook in between until you could bring yourself back down from your high. "Aghhhhohhhmygod!" Jungkook smirks as he sits up, sticking his two fingers into his mouth before releasing himself from his sweats and boxers.

"Fuck, you taste so good." He slightly groans. Your breathing hitches seeing his hardened member, making you drool at the sight. You already feel dizzy imagining him filling you up with that thing, but you knew you wanted take care of him first - make him feel good, make him feel special. Take him, every inch. You crawl over and take his cock into your hands, spitting onto it before you slowly stroke him up and down. "Ohhhhhbabygirl." His words mesh together as he tilts his head back. You lower your lips onto his tip, tasting every single drop of pre-cum pooling at the area before running your tongue down his shaft and taking him. You get about halfway before you swirl your tongue around suck, pulling back with a slight pop. You stroke towards the base as your mouth is doing work on the other half of his cock. Jungkook has his hand in your hair, and you can feel his grip tightening as he slowly moves your head up and down along his cock. "Can you take me? All of me?" You nod. "Yeah? Fucking take it then." He spits out as he lowers you all the way down, keeping his tip against your throat until he feels you gag. "Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck!" You say, tears brimming your eyes, ready to stream your cheeks as you watch the trail of saliva from his tip to your mouth fall.

"You're doing so fucking good." He says as he watches you while guiding you down length, bobbing your head a little rougher and more aggressively this time around. Your saliva is damn near dripping out of your mouth, the entire scene getting sloppier by the minute, but you honestly didn't care. You were so turned on that all you wanted after this was for Jungkook to fuck you crazy hard, until you couldn't take it anymore. You were so fucking attracted to this man. "One more for me, baby." He moans, lowering you down his entire length again, his tip tickling your throat a lot longer than the first time that your tears are actually coming down this time around. You cough when he finally pulls you back, more saliva trailing from the tip to your mouth. "See, so perfect for me. Taking me in so well like your mouth was fucking made for me." He grabs your chin, placing a kiss against your lips before gently pushing you back down onto the bed. "Turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart."

"I want you so bad." You whine, his hand trailing down your back as he positions your ass up and gets your face as close to the mattress as possible.

"Don't you worry, princess. I'll take good care of you." He lines himself up, his dick incredibly wet from you sucking him like your life depended on it. He slides in with ease, the both of you moaning loudly at the feeling - the feeling of warmth, and feeling so fucking full, Jungkook is sure he can feel his tip ready to rearrange your guts in this position. He begins slow, one hand on a hip, while the other is in your hair, making sure your face is deep into the mattress.

"Faster, please!" You plead, Jungkook wasting no time to hammer his cock into your pussy. The sounds are incredibly loud and lewd, and you knew your walls were thin as hell. You were sure your neighbors were definitely having the time of their life listening to you getting destroyed. You cry as he groans, his hands now gripping your hair and tugging you back so that he can slightly see your face with the way he tilts it back.

"Ughhhh, shit babygirl. You feel so good, always so tight for me." He moans as he lets out a couple of breaths from pumping in and out of you so quickly. "Ready for me to make you cry again? That's what you wanted, right?"

"Yes." You say, but he tugs your hair tighter.

"I can't hear you."

"Yeeeees!" You whine. "Yes, fuck, please!"

"Say my name."

"Jungkooook." You moan. "Jungkoook, hmmmmmpfh." Your ass almost feels numb from how hard Jungkook is fucking you right now, but it all leads to the pleasure building up inside of you - pooling right at your core. You were sure you could reach your climax again any moment now, but you were trying your hardest to hold on for as long as you could, enjoying every moment of the pleasure he was bringing you. You didn't want this to be over, even though you could go rounds with him if he wanted to. His hand travels from your hair, down to your neck, gripping just right to choke you and keep your head tilted at an angle. Your yes's are becoming inaudible, moans getting lost in your throat that is feeling constricted from his grip.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart. Cum with me." Jungkook says as he thrusts harder, the overwhelming sensation enough to send you into the next dimension. The orgasm ripples through your body, your hand gripping onto his wrist as you tremble and look for support.

"FuckkkkknnnnngJungkook!" You manage to yell. He moans loudly as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, spurts of his cum coating your walls warmly and thickly. He gives you two good slow thrusts before he's slowly pulling out and letting his tip stick the cum back inside of you. "Ahhh, please. Kook." You whimper as you fall onto your bed, tears staining your cheeks once more. He smiles as he picks up his boxers and throws them on, tossing you your panties and his shirt to wear. You slip into them without question, Jungkook coming back onto the bed to lay next to you and caress your body to soothe you.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You sniff, the aftermath of all the tears you've shed from tonight's fuck session catching up to you.

"Babygirl." He chuckles as he wipes your cheeks and plants a kiss on it. "You need to be careful of what you ask for."

"Shut the hell up and pull up the movie, Jungkook." He laughs, watching you shove your laptop over to him. He pulls up the movie on his Amazon Prime account and snuggles with you under your sheets.

"Sooo, ready for our date?"

"Should I be preparing?" He shrugs.

"Just want you to have a good night with me." His hands are still caressing your sides under his shirt, light kisses being pressed against the nape of your neck. The warmth, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours makes you feel content. Satisfied. Peaceful.

You felt safe. You felt wanted.

baby we can take it slow, say my name, don't let go, I can hear your body when i pull your hair, what's my name; girl I swear, I can hear your body babe

track ten: body - syd

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #35 Sexy Counselling Room

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

Amahiko: Good evening, Rikai-san.

Amahiko: What’s the matter? Suddenly calling me to come here, how exciting.

Rikai: Amahiko-san, in all earnestness there is something serious that I need advice about from you…

Amahiko: Advice?

Rikai: You haven’t told anyone about being called out here, yes? If word gets out then I will have betrayed everyone’s expectations, and worst of all the order of this house will collapse.

Amahiko: You seem to be quite restless.

Amahiko: By all means, Rikai-san, you can ask for any sort of advice. Did something happen?

Rikai: ……

Amahiko: Rikai-san.

Rikai: It’s…. awfully difficult to say but…

Rikai: How…How can….

Rikai: A man as I…

Rikai: Become sexy?

Amahiko: Excuse me?

Rikai: AAAAH!!!! What are you going on about Rikai!!! I’m sorry, forget I said anything!

(Rikai tries to run away but Amahiko stops him)

Amahiko: Hold it Rikai-san!

Rikai: W-where is this coming from? If I’m not wrong, you desire to be sexy thus you ask of me to teach you a way of becoming sexy?

Rikai: ….Yes….

Rikai: I mean, till this day there aren’t many that love me, for reasons unknown.…

Rikai: It doesn’t bother me though, it doesn’t bother me at all.

Rikai: But love and romance… My experience is meager at best in such things.

Rikai: It’s not something I can solve on my own…

Rikai: However Amahiko-san, looking at you- the minister of sexy affairs-

Rikai: No doubt that you’d be the most acquainted with a way of becoming sexy.

Rikai: So I beg of you to lend me your wisdom…!

Amahiko: I see now. This is what was bothering you.

Rikai: Please teach me, Amahiko-sensei. About how a person could become sexy!

Amahiko: Unfortunately, Rikai-san, it is not something that could be taught.

Rikai: ….! That cannot be… Do not forsake me Amahiko-sensei… Sensei!!!

Amahiko: Rikai-san.

Amahiko: It’s because…

Amahiko: You’re already as sexy as you can be.

Rikai: Haah…?

Amahiko: My aid is unnecessary. You’re fine as you are, if anything I’d like you to not change at all.

Rikai: That’s just foolish….

Rikai: I mean- I haven’t been able to decently talk to women and still am not able to.

Amahiko: Sexy. How irresistible.

Rikai: Holding hands is beyond anyone’s imagination too.

Amahiko: Sexy.

Rikai: Making eye contact is enough to get me nervous.

Amahiko: Erect.

Rikai: And in all honesty, it’s not as if I am a wicked man devoid of such desires either.

Amahiko: ECSTASYYYYYYYYYY~!

Rikai: SENSEI! Please take this seriously!

Amahiko: Rikai-san, Amahiko is deadly serious. You’re sexier than I could ever imagine. Extremely erotic. I don’t want you to change anything about yourself.

Rikai: Please cease with merely trying to comfort me.

Amahiko: It’s not flattery. You are truly erotic. It’s unbearable.

Amahiko: How old are you now?

Rikai: 25 years old…

Amahiko: That’s criminal.

Rikai: Nonsense! I’m often deemed to be “cringy”. For example, because of my whistle here…

Amahiko: Your whistle is sexy, isn’t it. There was once a time in the world of sexiness where one would perform by blowing a conch. In other words, it’s classic art. Very nice.

Rikai: Or because I wear a helmet when riding a bicycle.

Amahiko: That is not something to worry about, since more than half of Japanese men conceal their heads too.

Rikai: What are you talking about?

Amahiko: Rikai-san. The only issue here is that you are not aware of your own sexiness.

Rikai: My sexiness….?

Amahiko: Yes.

Rikai: What part of me is! Please tell me!

Amahiko: I told you that I cannot do so.

Rikai: But why!

Amahiko: It’s a quite the conundrum. Recognizing your own sexiness means that said sexiness will also get halved. And if you’re careless, all would be lost.

Amahiko: That’s why I hesitate to teach you the ways at a moment’s notice. A waste for all of mankind.

Rikai: What kind of nonsense are you speaking of!

Amahiko: No, Amahiko is speaking on behalf of your own good now.

Amahiko: I want to save you, but as the minister of sexy affairs, I cannot afford to nip this scarce, lovely sexiness in the bud.

Amahiko: It’s a frightening dilemma to experience.

Rikai: I couldn’t care less! Sensei! Just please tell me what makes me sexy! Why do I have to stay the way I am! It doesn’t matter if my sexiness gets halved! I need to know! Please teach me, Sensei!

Amahiko: Rikai-san!

Rikai: !

Amahiko: I am Tendou Amahiko second, and the minister of sexy affairs, World Sexy Ambassador first!

Rikai: ….! Such strong determination…! Is this what… the World Sexy Ambassador, the minister of sexy affairs is made of…!

Amahiko: That’s all from me unfortunately….

Rikai: I.. I understand.

Amahiko: I’m sorry I wasn’t helpful.

Rikai: Sensei!

Amahiko: Hm?

Rikai: Please don’t… tell anyone about what happened just now.

Amahiko: Rest assured. I am the minister of sexy affairs after all.

Rikai: What is this feeling. Nothing was solved and yet there’s this sense of peace. My heart and soul feels calm.

Rikai: This must the power of the minister of sexy affairs.

Rikai: Thank you, Tendou Amahiko-sensei

Amahiko: EVERYONEEE~! You’d never guess what unbelievably sexy thing I have in store for you all~!

Rikai: BASTAAARD! GET BACK HERE YOU PERVERTED GEEZER!

[howtofightwrite]

Q&A: Scuttling your own Argument

So, before we get started today, we don’t usually respond to every misogynistic shitpost that hits our inbox. So, let’s turn this garbage into a teachable moment.

Women have a lower reaction time than men, this has been proven. How would this affect combat?

There’s a couple problems with this. I mean, there are many flaws with this question, but I’m going to focus on two.

The first: As we’ve said many times, “bold claims require strong and convincing evidence.” This may come as a shock, but, “this has been proven,” does not count as a citation.

We live in a world where people actually argue that the planet is flat because they cannot physically see the curvature of the earth. Keep in mind, we’ve been to space.

We live in a world where people are more inclined to believe in ancient aliens than accept the idea that the non-European civilizations were able to construct great architectural works.

This is before we get into examples like Andrew Wakefield. Wakefield falsified his research on MMR vaccines in the late 90s. He claimed he’d found a link between the MMR Vaccine in common use, and incidents of autism. Except, his entire goal was to capitalize on the resulting vaccine scare, making money off of a new market for diagnostic kits, and a “replacement MMR vaccine.”

“This has been proven,” doesn’t mean a thing without a citation.

Now, what has been proven is that the author of this question is an idiot, and the evidence is in their text.

Women fight all the time. You only need to look as far as your local police blotter to see evidence of that, in case you’ve somehow never observed this personally.

Beyond that, many armed services include women, including in combat roles. The most famous example is the IDF, but Germany, France, Australia, the UK and US all train and deploy women in combat roles. Russia is often also held up as an example, and during the Second World War, they fielded female snipers, though, as far as I know, they don’t currently allow women in combat roles. In the case of the US, there are women in the SEALs and Rangers, which seriously undermines the idea that they’re somehow unfit for combat. Seriously there are female Special Forces Operators. (There may also be some women in the British SAS, I’m not 100% sure, though the Service is not gender restricted.)

Also, those militaries conducted extensive testing to determine if they found women eligible to serve, and before you hop on an unfounded argument of, “political correctness skewed the results,” it’s worth remembering that military testing often skews hard to support the status quo. If your claim had any merit, you could be assured that various militaries would have been proclaiming it from the rooftops as the reason they couldn’t accept women into combat roles (or, why they should be blocked from military service entirely.)

So, I said the author was an idiot, and I’m not basing that on their unfamiliarity with military service demographics. When you’re writing an argument it is very important to chose your words carefully. The way you phrase things can shape, or undermine, your argument.

In this case, it’s his question: “How would this affect combat?”

The choice of, “would,” assumes a false variable. When you’re asking a question where all of the components of an argument are true, you ask, “how does this affect combat?”

For example, after a technical discussion of the internal workings of the AK47, you would not ask, “how would this affect the rifle’s performance in combat?” You would ask, “how does it affect the rifle’s performance?” If you were speculating on changes to the design, then, “would,” would become the correct term.

(Also, “would,” is the correct term in the previous paragraph, because you are not asking those questions.)

The two variables in the author’s question are their reflexes assertion, and whether women fight. They probably assumed women do not fight. (I can only assume this is because they didn’t do any research, and apparently, have never met a member of the opposite sex.) However, once you establish that women do fight, “would,” dictates that the other variable must be false. Meaning, they have just unintentionally stated that their reflexes assertion is untrue.

What I can’t prove is that they’re misreading early neuroplasticity studies. If you’ve never looked into it, neuroplasticity is a fascinating subject. Your brain is a remarkably adaptive organ, and this can result in significant neurological differences between individuals based on their experiences. Neuroplasticity can affect reflex time, and it is probably why martial artists who get their start as children have significantly faster reflexes than those who start as adults. Your brain is far more plastic (meaning adaptive) during childhood. Plasticity does remain in adulthood, but your brain loses adaptability as you age. However, if that is the case, it’s important to understand that these differences are the result of experiences and activities, not gender.

-Starke

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Q&A: Scuttling your own Argument was originally published on How to Fight Write.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sick Day (Demon x Reader)

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader/ Non-Binary Demon

Genre: Urban fantasy, Domesticity, Established relationship

Warnings: Mentions of sickness (fevers, body chills, headaches), but nothing graphic

Word Count: 2008 words

Summary: Your demon partner isn’t sure how to play doctor

A/N: Based of this prompt by @monsterkinkmeme

“It’s the first time you’ve dated a demon and it’s also the first time you’ve gotten sick since you’ve been together. A fever paired with a throbbing headache has you hiding in bed for most of the day, trying to sleep whatever bug you caught, off. Your demon lover, on the other hand, is beside themselves and has turned to Google and WebMD on how best to take care of you. They now think you are dying because of your symptoms and are devising a way to save you.”

The minute I saw this prompt I was immediately awash with PINING for a large demon partner to cuddle with and I knew I had to write it.

A week after finals, 7 months into your relationship with Motholg, your immune system gives up.

You had been leaving work, thinking the heat in your cheeks and the ache in your bones was a product of a 6 hour shift, walking to Motholg’s apartment for date night. The past two week had you cooped up, anxious and studying, meaning you barely were able to make time for your partner.

You probably should have expected it, it’s happened every finals week since high school; A couple days into break you get a high fever and are stuck in your bed for a solid 48 hours. But you thought that, perhaps, this year was the exception. After nearly passing out when handing Motholg their fresh-made lasagna, you knew you weren’t so lucky.

“Darling?”

You groan from your blanket burrito, eyes and sweaty forehead barely peeking into the dim light of Motholg’s bedroom. The thought of forming a coherent thought makes your brain pound, so you don’t even try.

“I’ve made you some...uh…”

The door creaks open, Motholg automatically ducking their head so their long horns don’t hit the frame. Their red, slitted eyes narrow at something steaming in a teacup. “Yas-mine? Jasmeen? Uh-some herbal remedy I ordered from your virtual shopkeep. It was touted by several women named “Brenda” to  be the best thing for human illnesses.” Motholg’s hooves tap against the floor, just below the line of “too loud” for your migraine. You give another non-committal hum as they sit down on the bed. Despite being custom-made for their 7-foot stature, the bedframe still creaks under their weight. The top of your blanket sarcophagus is pulled back, revealing your disgruntled face.

Motholg helps you prop yourself up and hands you the teacup. You take a sip, quickly realizing it’s still quite hot, but power through anyway. The scalding water melts from your mouth down to your toes, abating your shivers, if only temporarily.

As you drink, Motholg’s fingers card through your messy hair, massaging your skull before resting their palm on your cheek. Their hand covers almost the entire side of your head, spotting a glimpse of a frown between their fingers.

“You’re even hotter than before and still quite sweaty. Would you like me to take the blankets?”

You shake your head, setting down your cup of tea.

“No, it’s probably just my fever breaking. It’s actually a good sign, despite how shitty I feel.” The warmth of your cocoon is beckoning you, your exposed chest and arms already shivering. “The blankets are good for my chills, but a big glass of ice water would be nice.”

Motholg raises an eyebrow, clearly perturbed by your backwards human symptoms. But they pat your head once more before sitting up.

“Of course, dear.” Motholg leans down to kiss your forehead, but is intercepted by the palm of your hand.

“Uh-uh, I don’t need you getting sick too.” Motholg scrunches up their face, then blows a raspberry into your skin. You retaliate by pushing away their face feebly.

“As if your human illness could fell me darling.” The sigh dramatically, pushing your hand away. “Though you are very sweet to think it could.”

You stick out your tongue and shove them. Motholg relents, blowing a kiss as they back out of the bedroom.

Your brain is beginning to drift into sleep when a glass clinks on the nightstand. Not bothering to open your eyes, far too tired, you mutter a “Thank you.” Motholg whispers a “You’re welcome,” as they lay on the bed once more. Their warm fur tickles your neck as they cuddle up behind you, arm thrown around your side and nuzzling their face into your hair. A hot breath and a slight nip of their extended canines only wills you to dreamland faster.

Motholg won’t go to sleep, only needing a full 8 hours every 4 days, but are rather content to lay beside you. They lovingly stroke your arm and sidle farther down under the comforter, whispering occasional sweet nothings and rocking you into unconsciousness.

--------

The dull red of the bedside clock pries open your eyes, a stark contrast compared to the pitchblack of the bedroom. Your brain is still in a fog, but given then the 3 AM flashing nearby, you’ve been asleep for about 9 hours.

And I’m about to sleep 9 more.

Motholg had left the bed at some point, but their warmth still lingers on the blankets. You close your eyes and snuggle in.

Slam!

But then the door slams open.

On a normal night, the noise might’ve jerked you upright , but your eyes simply roll over to the doorway. Your brain already misses unconsciousness.

Motholg stands, their new smartphone in hand as they breathe heavily.

“Darling, what did you say your body temperature was?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, slowly giving up on those peaceful 9 hours.

“99.7 last time I checked.” You tap your forehead with the back of your hand. “Probably less now. The sleep has been helping a lot. Good night.”

In an instant, Motholg is over to the bed, placing their hand on your forehead. You let out a disappointed sigh and try to go back to sleep anyways. The click of their hooves on hardwood, Motholg’s jittering shakes of your shoulder, and the strong smell of iron quickly eliminates that as a possibility.

You turn towards your partner, now noticing the sheen of liquid covering their hands. Red streaks follow their fingertips on their smartphone.

“Babe, why are your hands soaked in blood?”

“Goat’s blood, technically.”

Before you can even respond to that baffling answer, Motholg grabs your shoulder. The blood sticks to the short sleeves of your pajamas.

Damn, now I’ll have to wash this tomorrow.

“Here, it says the ritual-”

“The what?”

“-needs to be completed at 3:30 AM on a new moon.” Motholg pauses, checks their phone, then continues, “Yes, a new moon.”

Motholg begins to walk away, your arm still in their grip, but your resistance stalls them.

“Okay, Motholg, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? How the hell did you get goat’s blood at this hour?”

Motholg sighs and rolls their eyes, “Unimportant-”

You give Motholg a dissatisfied look, finally making them relent in heir tirade. They turn towards you.

“I fear for your life. I’ve consulted your online physician and your symptoms fall in line with many fatal illnesses.”

Now accepting that this is officially a conversation, you throw back your blankets and sit up.

“Do you mean WebMD?”

Motholg nods furiously and shows you their phone screen, tapping the glass with a long claw.

“See here? Full body chills are associated with pneumonia, so is a high fever. There’s also the possibility something is wrong with one of your organs. Not surprising, considering how squishy they are.” Motholg flicks their screen upward, a myriad of diagrams flips across it.

“Now, I know a couple of ceremonies my father used to perform to curse others with these illnesses, so I thought if I reversed the procedure-” Motholg pauses again, flipping to a new tab on their phone, “-So, I did some googling-”

Motholg pauses when your hand rests against their cheek. Their red eyes, which glow just slightly in the dark, look to you. You brush your thumb across their face, just barely grazing against the fur which starts at the base of their neck.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern really, I do. But these websites…” you pause, slowly pushing Motholg’s phone down and out of eyesight, “They really only show worst case scenarios. Honestly, they kind of just scare you into going to a doctor in person.”

Motholg’s eyes dart between your face and their phone, now pressed face down on their bed. They give off an aura of anxiety and stress, their hands fidgety and their hooves lightly tapping against the floor. “Here,” You pull up the covers, opening up the spot next to you. “Do you want to lie down with me for a while?”

“Oh, I don’t need to rest.”

“Just because your body doesn’t require it doesn't mean it won’t feel good. C’mon.” You pat the bed. “I think it will give you some peace of mind, keeping an eye on me.”

Motholg’s eyes shifted back to their phone, their brow furrowed. You pout your lips and slide your fingers up their chest. Their fur sticks and tussles under your touch.

“Babe, I would feel better if you relax, seriously.” You reach down to the bedside drawer, pulling out your sleep mask. “You can even bring your computer and get some work done.”

Hesitantly, they nod. You sigh in relief. Their hand unconsciously twirls your hair.

“I suppose….You would know about these things.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Motholg leaves to get their things, while you slip back under the covers. Before you put your sleep mask on, you shout to them.

“Make sure to wash that blood off!” You look down at your damp sleeve. “And could you get me a wet wipe as well?”

Motholg makes an affirmative noise, and you finally lay back and close your eyes.

Their body heat lingers above your as they sweetly wipe away the blood on your arm. You mutter a thank you. The bed dips as they down next to you, mattress bending as they adjust their laptop and fluff the pillows.

“Darling?”

“Hmmm?” You murmur, face still stuffed in your pillow.

“I just wanted to apologize for waking you. I feel very foolish for acting so paranoid.”

You flip your head to their side, keeping your mask on.

“No need to apologize, I get it.”

“Thank you for your understanding, but still, I feel so silly. To think a tiny sickness would force my emotions to overcome me.”

You slowly push up your mask, eyes peeking out from under the duvet. Motholg sheepishly picks at their keyboard, avoiding your eyes,

As disgruntled as it made you at first, Motholg’s droopy gaze stirred guilt in your gut. You wonder how many scenarios had run through their head while they googled, how helpless they must’ve felt. There might be a hole paced into the floor of the living room, given how flustered they were when they barged in.

You reach out to Motholg’s wrist, brushing your thumb over the back of their palm. Their red irises look over, and you think you see the tinies remnants of tear tracks at the corner of their eyes.

“Emotions aren’t a bad thing, they’re natural.” Grabbing the top of the blanket, you roll over to Motholg’s side. Their large body dwarfs yours and when you curl up against them, the tips of your feet barely meet the top of their calves. Their black fur is soft against your face, like a  mixture of a plush carpet and a goosefeather pillow.

Oh good, they used the Tea Tree soap.

“I’d probably do the same if you got sick.” You reach your hand up to their chest, cording through their thick fur. “We’re just gonna have to trust the other’s okay, huh?”

With your chin tucked into their ribs, Motholg smiles down at you. A claw runs up the back of your neck, stirring up goosebumps but relaxing your muscles.

“I believe so, darling.” Their fangs jut out from their lips as they continue to rub your neck. It’s quite goofy looking, for a demon, and gets a chuckle out of you.

You crane your neck and Motholg meets you halfway for a kiss, consequences be damned.

“Good night, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetling.”

You fall asleep with Motholg’s fingers curled in your hair, the slight tap of their claws on the keys, a simmering contentment in your heart.

--------

A week later, when  you’re back to full health, you and Motholg are making dinner when-

“Ah-choo!”

You stop stirring the pasta and furrow your brows at Motholg. They’ve stilled, mid-movement while setting out the plates. Their face burns with embarrassment.

“A silly human sickness, huh?”

[bpro-cardstories]

Ryuji Korekuni SSR

2017 ー Flower Garden [Flower Garden]

"Geez….. It’s not like all sweets get you back in a good mood."

Part 1

ーIn the meeting room.ー

Ryuji: ‘…..…..’

(Ryuji-kun somehow doesn’t look well….. Maybe he’s exhausted, because the schedule was packed these days?)

Ryuji (sighs): ‘….. Haa.’

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm, are you fine?’

Ryuji: ‘….. Yeah. I’m just a bit sleep-deprived. Work has been going until late, so we’ve been coming home at midnight recently. My mind and body are so agitated after the recording, that I can’t really fall asleep.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘That sounds hard…..’ 

Ryuji: ‘Well, when we are finished, we can go home. But the staff has to work until even later, so I won’t complain.’ 

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘And besides, it makes us happy when it’s busy.’ 

Ryuji (smiles): ‘Now that you mention it, I heard some unusual work came in.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Ah, yes! An offer to appear at the Flower Garden opening ceremony came in.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Does it include singing?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes, it does.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Hee, how nice. To be able to sing at something like the Flower Garden sounds romantic.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Hmm…..’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Oh, Ryuji doesn’t seem to be attracted to it?’ 

Ryuji (shakes head): ‘It’s not like that…..’

(Ryuji-kun looks depressed. And seems to be quite tired…..)

Tsubasa: ‘….. Ah! It looks like you will be able to eat plenty of sweets made by a famous hotel pastry chef at the ceremony!’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Look, did it catch your interest a bit?’ 

Ryuji (upset): ‘Geez….. It’s not like all sweets get you back in a good mood.’ 

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘Hmm. You seem to be in a pretty bad temper today.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘…..’

(I would like to adjust their schedule in some way, but it seems difficult for a while…..)

Part 2

ーAnother day.ー

(I wonder if the rehearsal for the ceremony is already over? I hope Ryuji-kun is in a better mood…..)

Tsubasa: ‘Hello!’

Ryuji: ‘Oh, Tsubasa, hi.’

Tsubasa: ‘I was able to make a bit of time, so I came to see how you are doing. Here are some refreshments.’ 

Ryuji: ‘! This is…..’

Tsubasa: ‘The pudding from Ryuji-kun’s favourite store!’

Ryuji: ‘…..!’

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu. Good for you, Ryuji.’

Ryuji (smiles): ‘Just when I thought I wanted to eat something sweet. Aren’t you thoughtful, Tsubasa.’

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji, that’s where you genuinely say thank you, right?’

Ryuji: ‘Uh….. I was about to do that now!’

Ryuji (blushes): ‘….. Thanks.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufufu, I am glad you were pleased about it.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Since you’re already here, should we eat it together?’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes, thank you very much.’ 

Ryuji: ‘I wonder what flavour should I go with~ ♪.’ 

(I’m glad. His good mood is all back.)  

Tsubasa: ‘Did the rehearsal go well?’

Ryuji: ‘Of course. I was talking with Tomo about how good it feels.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘You don’t need to worry about the performance, it’s going to be fine. Ryuji’s bad temper has also been fixed in this way.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Pah. I’m always in a good mood though?’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, you’re right.’ 

Ryuji (winks): ‘Tsubasa, we’ll deliver the best performance, so make sure you have your eyes on us.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! I am looking forward to it.’ 

(Ryuji-kun is so energetic, he does love to stand on the stage after all.)

Part 3

ーThe day of the performance. In the waiting room.ー

Yuta: ‘Ah, it’s Tsubasa-chan! Yahoo!’

Tsubasa: ‘This is where everyone is. Hello!’

Ryuji: ‘…..….. Hello.’

Tsubasa: ‘….. Eh, eh…..?’

(Ryuji-kun is back in a bad mood again…..?)

Tsubasa: ‘Is something wrong?’

Ryuji: ‘….. Not really.’

(Th-The air’s heavy…..!)

Yuta comes closer.

Yuta: ‘Tsubasa-chan, Tsubasa-chan.’

Tsubasa: ‘?’

Yuta: ‘You know, earlier at the venue we met the big people from the organizing. It was only for a bit, but it looks like he was told something mean.’

ーFlashback.ー

Staff: ‘Oh~, it’s you two from KitaKore. Kitakado-kun looks like a prince, so I thought you would certainly be the same type, too….. But you’re a princess, if I had to say so.’ 

Staff: ‘How about trying out women's clothes? It might have some impact? Come on, genderless is in fashion now.’ 

ーEnd of flashback.ー

Tsubasa: ‘How terrible…..’

Yuta: ‘I think the other person didn’t really say it with bad intentions maybe, but…..’ 

Ryuji: ‘Wait, Yuta, what are you telling on me there. Didn’t I say that I didn’t mind it?’

Yuta: ‘But Ryu-chan…..’

Ryuji: ‘That often happens. If I would take that seriously every time, there would be no end to it.’ 

Yuta: ‘Y-Yeah…..’

(That’s Ryuji-kun for you. Just as I thought, because he’s been doing this work since he was a child his reaction sure is mature.)

Ryuji: ‘…..’

Yuta: ‘…..’

(But, the atmosphere is heavy in the end….. That’s not good before the performance.)

The door opens.

Tomohisa: ‘Ryuji, can I have a minute?’

Ryuji: ‘Tomo. What’s wrong?’

Tomohisa (smiles): ‘What could this be?’

Ryuji: ‘What do you mean, it’s obvious just by looking. It’s a macaron, right?’

Tomohisa: ‘It’s alright, so open your mouth. ….. Here, aaah.’

Ryuji: ‘Aaah…..’

Ryuji: ‘….. Nhhn!’

Ryuji: ‘That’s!’

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, did you figure it out? A macaron from “him” whom Ryuji loves so much. I asked the people at the venue for this favour.’

Ryuji: ‘To think I’d be able to eat it here…..!’

Ryuji: ‘Could it be that he’s here at the venue?’

Tomohisa: ‘No, it’s a shame, but this time it’s only the sweets. But he said that he’s looking forward to the broadcasting of the performance.’

Ryuji: ‘I see.’

Ryuji: ‘Aah, this taste….. It hasn't changed since back then.’

Yuta: ‘Hey, hey, Ryu-chan! Give me one, too!’

Ryuji (laughs): ‘Eh~? What do I do now, hm.’ 

Yuta: ‘Waah, don’t be a bully~~!’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufufu.’

(I’m relieved. The atmosphere around Ryuji-kun instantly brightened.)

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, in the end Ryuji’s special medicine is sweets.’ 

Part 4

ーAfter the end of the ceremony.ー

Tsubasa: ‘Everyone, good work! It was a really wonderful ceremony.’

Tomohisa: ‘Thank you. It’s been a while since we sang outside, so we also enjoyed it.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Yep. I enjoyed that kind of party for the first time in a while.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘And, there was also an unexpected surprise, no?’ 

Ryuji: ‘Yes, yes, definitely! I didn’t think I would be able to eat “that person’s” sweets.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Uhm, “that person”…..? Is he an acquaintance of you two?’ 

Tomohisa: ‘To be honest, yes. The pastry chef, who was in charge of the sweets for the ceremony today, is someone we've been indebted to since we were children.’ 

Ryuji: ‘He’s the pastry chef purveyor to the Kitakado household and on parties or special events his sweets were always part of them.’

Tsubasa: ‘I understand.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Especially his macarons are masterpieces. During our Bambi time we both often asked him to make all kinds of sweets for us.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Though they were mostly Ryuji’s requests.’

Ryuji: ‘Eh, was it so? Didn’t Tomo also want to eat things like Simmered Taro in Sweetened Soy Sauce* or asked for something different than sweets?’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Ahaha, that might be so. You remembered that well.’

Ryuji: ‘But all of them were delicious.’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, you do love him a lot.’

Tomohisa: ‘We will introduce him to Tsubasa next time.’

Tomohisa: ‘Before I forget, would you come to our apartment on our free day?’

Ryuji: ‘That sounds great! Because we were busy these days we weren’t able to visit the store, so we’ll ask him to make us lots of sweets ♪.’ 

Tomohisa: ‘Yeah, we will contact you.’ 

Part 5

ーA few days later. In the evening.ー

(The previous location dragged on, so I arrived later than the promised time unfortunately…..)

______

The doorbell rings.

Tomohisa: ‘Hello, Tsubasa. Come in.’

Tsubasa: ‘Hello! I am terribly sorry for my lateness.’

Tomohisa: ‘It’s fine. Now, come into the living room.’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes, excuse me for the intrusion.’

Tsubasa: ‘…..?’

(It smells sweet here…..)

Ryuji: ‘Ah, you finally came.’

Tsubasa: ‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting.’

Ryuji (sighs): ‘Really. I was getting tired of waiting.’

Ryuji (smiles): ‘Come on, sit down already!’

Tsubasa: ‘Y-Yes.’

(I wonder what’s wrong, Ryuji-kun is strangely in a good mood…..?)

Tsubasa: ‘Ryuji-kun, did something happen?’

Tomohisa: ‘Fufu, I wonder?’

Ryuji: ‘Tsubasa!’

Tsubasa: ‘Yes.’

Ryuji: ‘Open your mouth! Here, aaahh.’

Tsubasa: ‘Eh!? ….. Nhmm.’

Ryuji: ‘How is it? This cupcake is from the pastry chef’s store we talked about the other day. Delicious, right?’

Tsubasa: ‘Nn….., very delicious!’

Ryuji: ‘I know, right! There are also cookies and madeleines. Eat away.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Thank you very much. But, why suddenly…..?’

Ryuji: ‘F-For no reason, really. I just bought them, because I was craving some sweets after I ate the ones at the ceremony last time!’

Tomohisa: ‘Oh, that’s weird? What I heard was surely to make them togeーー’

Ryuji (blushes): ‘Wait, Tomo! Don’t say unnecessary things.’

Tsubasa: ‘…..?’

Ryuji: ‘…..They are just a thank you….. for always taking care of all kinds of….. Things for us…..!’

Tsubasa: ‘! Th-Thank you very much…..! That makes me happy.’

Ryuji: ‘Ngh! I mean, Tsubasa might as well also eat them! It's me who wanted to eat them, that’s the main point here!’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Yes! But I am still happy!’

Tomohisa (winks): ‘Fufufu, then shall we have a tea party today?’

END

______________________

* Simmered Taro in Sweetened Soy Sauce (里芋の煮っころがし・さといものにっころがし): This took me some time to find since it’s a specific dish. Ryuji only used 煮っころがし (Sweetened Soy Sauce) actually, but Google gave me videos and images of the Taro version. It sounds a bit strange to me to only use the soy sauce part, so I included the full name of the dish.   

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Yes, Father (August Walker x Reader)

A/N: Hey folks. It has been a while. This piece has been sitting on my drive for over a month and I finally decided to post it. I hope you enjoy it. I based all the mass rites on my own experiences, even if it has been a while since I last went to church. 

Summary: AU! After much insisting, your fiancé convinces you to go to church with him and you find yourself strangely captivated by the priest celebrating the mass, which so happens to be your fiancé childhood friend.

Pairing: August x Reader

Genre: Smut; AU   

Wordcount: 2,9k

Warnings: smut (dirty talk and fingering); It’s worth noting that this is a seriously sacrilegious fic, so if you’re religious and think it might bother you or conflict with your faith, maybe it would be best not to read it.

You were never one to particularly care for going to church or anything like that. You weren’t raised in any faith and if it was up to you, your future children would be educated the same, but it was so important to your fiancé James.

He came from a feverous catholic family and he grew up going to church, Sunday morning mass, and being part of every possible event his church was involved in. He was ever an altar boy growing up and he hoped that he could continue the tradition with his own children.

And after a lot of cajoling on his part, you agreed to start attending mass on Sunday morning with him. He promised that the current priest presiding his church wasn’t one of those misogynist and full of prejudice old farts but actually a good old friend of his.

“I promise you’ll enjoy August’s sermon,” James assured as you combed the inexistent wrinkles on your plain, knee-length grey dress.

James insisted you were being too conservative with your attire choice. That it looked more like you were going to a job interview than mass, but you rather be safe than sorry. His parents would be there as well and for some reason, that made you even more nervous with this whole attending to church thing. As ridiculous as it might sound, a part of you was slightly afraid of busting into flames the second you stepped through the threshold of the building.  

“Honestly, it still surprises me that out of the two of us, August was the one that ended up with the collar and not me,” your fiancé declared with a chuckle as he parked the car and you two stepped out to see a considerable group of people, mostly women from the looks of it, quietly making their way inside. “He was such a ladies’ man.”

“Doesn’t seem like much have changed,” you commented as the two of you walked up the steps, making him chuckle and nod.

James’ parents were already waiting and after a quick greeting, you were all made the way inside, miraculously finding seats in the front pews, right in front of the altar. The ample ship of the church seemed to amplify the buzzing of conversation all around, but it all came to a halt at the first chord of the piano.

The silence was heavy and it seemed to you that if someone dropped a pin, it would be heard by the very heavens. Finally, the eerie melody started and you felt your heart beating to the tempo of the music as everyone rose and the procession started.

Front and center, leading the group was a young boy, no older than 12, carrying the processional cross. The dark, shaggy hair and green eyes reminded you of James and you could picture your fiancé in your mind’s eye performing the same task as a child and it brought a smile to your lips.

You watched as the group advanced in time the melody playing, some members of the congregation carrying images of saints and other holy objects and finally, closing the group, Him.

Father August was a tall man, broad shoulders and built like a bull, the white and green clerical robes barely disguising his bulky form. His dark hair was neatly combed, one stubborn curl falling over his left eye but he seemed unaware as he walked and murmured the words of the hymn under his breath, his ocean blue gaze never wavering from the altar. He would look like the picture of a Godsent angel if it wasn’t for the dark stubble covering his face and the abominable mustache that in anyone else would look ridiculous but on him was actually attractive.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized your treacherous thought and your gaze fell to your polished shoes. You were really thinking of a priest as attractive? How much of a sinner could you be? Ashamed by the betrayal of your mind, you didn’t dare to look up again, not until the velvet smooth voice of Father August asked all to be seated and the ceremony started.

You let his voice washed over you as mass progressed as expected, taking your cues of when to rise or sit from James, that remained next to you oblivious to your suffering. You barely listened to the gospel reading or the adoration too focused on tracking Father August’s every move despite your best attempts of ignoring the handsome man presiding the celebration.

Finally, the congregation was seated once more to listen to his sermon. You kept your eyes on your clasped hands as August took his place at the pulpit and started speaking. You didn’t hear a word said, only the calm, husky tone of his voice that seemed to set your very soul on fire if the wet warmth between your legs was any indication.

Despite your brave attempts to keep your mind clean, you couldn’t help but daydream of that very same voice whispering all sorts of sinful pleasures in your ear. Clearing your throat, you dared to look up, finding his blue gaze fixed on you as he spoke and that was enough to set your heart racing and lock the breath inside your lungs. It felt as if Father August could see deep inside you, all the unholy thoughts you had been entertaining during his sermon.

Finally, he ended his speech and another hymn began. The congregation started rising, taking their place in line for Eucharist.

“You’re coming?” James whispered, startling you.

“I shouldn’t,” you replied quietly, your eyes darting to the priest feeding the congregation the wafer.

“Come on,” James encouraged with a smile and a wink. “No one will know.”

You rose from your seat against your better judgment. Your brain was unable to reign in the dark desire that pushed you toward the priest. As you took your place in line right behind James, your heart was pounding and your nerves wrecked as each step brought you closer to Father August, until finally, you stood in front of him, under his piercing all-knowing blue gaze.

“The body of Christ,” he spoke, voice haunting as he presented the wafer and your whole body shook as you let your lips part in welcome, eyes focused on his as he set the wafer on your tongue.

There was something so intimate and arousing at been this close to Father August, to let his thick fingers brushing against your lips as he fed you, his eyes darkening and his nostrils flaring as if he could see and smell your sin. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds as you two stared at each other.

It took the small cough from someone behind you to break you from your spell and you scurried away, shame bitter and acidic in your stomach, drying your mouth and throat as you forced yourself to swallow the wafer and move back to your seat, feeling the weight of your guilt as you waited for the mass to be finally over.

You had hoped to be free from the priest as soon as the proceedings were over but instead Father August remained at the door, exchanging polite words with the members of the congregation, and of course, James and his parents got in line to speak to the holy man.

“Amazing work as always, my dear,” you heard James’ mom, Magda, said as she kissed Father August’s cheek. “But when will you remove that awful thing from your face?”

“I don’t know, mom,” James interjected with a smirk, hugging his old friend. “I think it suits him, gives him a star quality. Of the porn variety.” James’ mom gasped in horror, while August just chuckled.

“You’re jealous because you never managed to grow a single hair in that baby face,” the priest joked back, completely unfazed by the teasing as his gaze set on you. “And who is this?”

“Oh! You haven’t met my fiancé, yet…”

You barely heard the rest of James’ words as he ushered you forward, presenting you to Father August and as his large hand enveloped yours in a warm touch, you could feel the flitting throb between your legs once again.

No man had such an effect on you before, and you wished you could run away, put as much distance between yourself and the temptation in the form of a man.

“So, what did you think?” James asked once the two of you were in the safety of the car, on the way to his parents’ house for Sunday lunch.

“I know it might not seem like it, but it wasn’t my first time in church, James.” Your words earned you a chuckle from him.

“I know, sweetheart. I meant of August.”

“Oh!” You could feel the heat returning to your face as you shifted on your seat, looking away from him. “He seemed nice and you’re right, his sermon was ok.”

“Is ok enough for you to consider coming along every Sunday from now on?”

The look in James’ eyes was pleading, like a little puppy dog that was kicked out of the moving truck. The look of a man that was used to get his way and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I’ll think about it,” you conceded it as he pulled the car in the driveway, right behind his parents’.

It wasn’t like you could say no point-blank. Not without a good reason for it and saying you were lusting over his ordained childhood friend wasn’t exactly an option.

“That’s all I ask.”

James smiled brightly at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you two stepped out of the car just as a third vehicle pulled in the driveway, and the last person you wished to see got out.

August was donning a pair of black slacks and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt, the clerical collar being the only evidence of this man’s chosen career.

“I’m glad you could make it!” James greeted his friend cheerfully and August smirked.

“I wouldn’t miss this delicious…” he paused for just a second, his eyes flickering towards you, making you gulp and look away. “Meal for anything. Sister Agnes has many talents, bless her soul, but cooking isn’t one of them.”

James snorted, leading the way inside as August walked right beside you so close his arm brushed against yours, raising goosebumps on your skin as it tingled with the brief contact.

“Why don’t I help your mother?” you announced as soon as you crossed the threshold, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the priest as you could.

James didn’t protest. Instead, he led his friend into the sitting room and as you disappeared behind the kitchen door, you could almost feel the cold blue gaze of August on your ass, if that was even possible.

You managed to relax some as you helped Magda with the meal, chopping vegetables and stirring pots as the two of you talked about the upcoming wedding, only months away. You never thought you would be this excited about it, but you loved James with all your heart, and you couldn’t wait to become his wife.

The sound of the phone cut through your chatting and Magda’s face opened into a wide smile as she reached for her phone. It could only mean one thing: Her daughter Mary, who had been in a charity mission in Angola, was on the line.

“Go on,” you encouraged with a smile as you surveyed the kitchen. “I can manage everything.” She flashed you a grateful smile before scurrying off, phone already pressed to her ear.

You hummed to yourself as you worked, tasting the potato salad and adding a little more seasoning before your attention turned to the roast on the oven. You bent over to get a better look, smirking to yourself when you sensed someone standing right behind you, close enough you could feel the heat of his body,

Of course, you thought it was James. Who else would you expect? Instead, As you straightened up and glanced behind yourself, you were startled to find August there, browsing the pots over your shoulder. Too close for comfort.

“Father,” you croaked awkwardly, unable to really move without risking touching the man and that was the last thing you wanted. Your body was already heating up just by his mere presence. Anything else would be too dangerous.  

“Sorry for the intrusion, I wanted to give them some privacy to speak to Mary and I thought you could use some help.” His words were innocent enough but there was this edge in his voice… a sort of dark tone that made you doubt his intentions.

“That’s really thoughtful of you,” you managed, shimmying out of the way so you could move to the sink to start on the dishes. “But I got it covered.” The priest hummed in response and for a moment, a tense silence reigned between you two.

You were very aware of every sound, every motion of your body and his. You wished he would leave already or, against your better judgment, press closer, blanket your body with his, let those long, elegant fingers trace the skin of your thigh, inch under your skirt, and towards your throbbing cunt which was soaking your panties.

You let out a gasp, cutlery clattering loudly into the sink as your mind registered the filthy thoughts circling your brain. How could you? This was a man of God, for Christ’s sake, and a good friend of the man you loved.

“You know, James and I were always very close,” Father August spoke suddenly, making you start because once again he was standing right behind you, his hands resting on the marble of the sink in front of you. “We shared everything.” He whispered those words right in your ear.

One of his hands came to your stomach, not yet touching but close enough that you could almost feel it, the ghost of his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, making your breath hitch and your body shake as it paused right at the edge of your skirt, hovering there so, so close…

“Please,” you whimpered, not sure if you were asking him to move away or touch you, even if your body was obviously aching for him.

Father August decided for you, dipping his fingers below the hem of your dress, tracing your thigh up until he found your center, the brush of his fingers featherlight against your drenched center.

“Dirty little slut,” he mocked, massaging your cunt and making you moan and rest against him. “I could tell all your filthy thoughts when you stood in front of me at the altar. Did you want to get on your knees and suck my cock in front of the entire church?”

“Yes, Father,” you whimpered, rocking against his light touch, desperate for more.

“In front of James?” he asked, pushing your panties aside and dipping one finger inside your hungry little slit that seemed to almost pull his digit in.

“Yes, Father.”

“Whore,” he clicked his tongue, fingering you roughly now, his middle finger buried almost to the third knuckle as the heel of his hand rubbed against your throbbing clit. The pad of his finger rubbing that sweet little spot, and all you could do was squeeze the sink and press your legs together around his wrist, keeping his hand trapped there.

“You better cum soon or James will find out exactly what kind of slut his fiancée is,” August taunted, his voice like smooth honey dripping against your ear as he rubbed his hard cock against your ass.

“Yes, Father,” you gasped, rocking between his hand and his erection, lost in the ecstasy of such filthy action. “I’m so, so close…”

“Do you want my cock, slut?” he asked, his other hand coming to your throat, squeezing just slightly and you nodded desperately as his motions sped up. “Want me to fuck that tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Father,” you gasped.

“You’re gonna come to the church on Wednesday. I don’t care what you tell James. Just be there.”

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t find in yourself to answer, your whole body going taut with pleasure as your orgasm washed over you. The sort of white-out ecstasy that blinded and deafened you to anything and everything around you with the exception of your body quivering and quaking and the gush of warmth soaking his hand, your thighs and dripping to the floor below.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to your cheek.

Father August stepped away from you, hands in his pockets as you tried to recompose yourself just moments before the kitchen door opened and Magda walked in.

“Wednesday. Don’t forget,” he said, his smile, to anyone looking from the outside, was completely innocent but you caught the malice in his ice-cold eyes before he left.

“What’s on Wednesday?” Magda asked, checking the roast.

“Father August is just gonna help me with something,” you managed, brain still hazy with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “For James.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Magda grinned. “He’s such a good man, isn’t he? Our August. A true man of God.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. If only she knew…

---

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[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter one - Big Sky

Also on Ao3

Billy doesn’t give a fuck about the rodeo. 

He doesn’t care about country music, or fancy horse riding, or the beauty queens, even the bull riders. 

What he does give a fuck about it not being in his house today. 

Not when his dad was obviously itching to pick a fight. Not when Max gave him such an easy out over breakfast. 

“I saw a flyer for a rodeo. I think it’d be kinda neat.”

It was in town for four more weeks. 

And Billy could tell the second he and Max bought tickets, he was about to be spending more time than he ever fuckin’ thought he would spend at a rodeo. 

He based that on the way Max’s eyes lit up the second she stepped inside the big fairgrounds. 

Not knowing that he was right. He was about to spend a lot of time at the rodeo. 

But not for Max. 

For himself. 

And a pretty horse rider named Steve.

He didn’t see Steve that first day. 

Was too busy shelling out his own hard-earned cash to buy Max sugary funnel cakes. Sitting next to her watching the poor suckers get bucked off their pissed-off bull. 

But when Max was in the car she turned to him, the sun setting outside, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

And the tickets were dirt cheap. And Billy hates being at home. 

So they did. 

And they watched the rodeo queens. 

And the team-roping. 

But it wasn’t until the calf roping that Billy felt his heart sink. 

Because he thinks Steve Harrington might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

Tall and broad, smiling like sunshine at his gorgeous black quarter horse, patting her strong neck and leading her to the entry point of the arena. 

His name was loudly announced after the event name. 

Calf roping, with our very own Steve Harrington! Steve will navigate his beautiful June into the arena, trying to rope and tie down a calf as quickly as possible!

Billy had tuned out everything but his name. 

Leaning forward on his bench seat to watch him lead June up to the starting line, give her a few more pats before swinging one leg up, heaving himself up and over her back, settling into the saddle with a grace Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe. 

Steve appeared to shake himself out, leaning forward over June’s neck to speak quietly to the sleek horse, wiggling his hips a bit in the saddle. 

And then he sat back up, readying himself and waiting for the countdown. 

He was off like a fucking shot. 

Billy’s never seen anything fucking like it. 

June kicked up dirt as she thundered through the arena behind a small herd of a few calves, Steve ducked low against her neck as he led her forward, his lips moving as he spoke quietly to her, egging her on and forward. He was clinging to her for dear life, his legs straining as he was tossed up and down in the saddle. 

And then he let go of her reins, one hand reaching for the rope on his belt. 

And it was the most hick shit he’s ever seen. 

This flannel-wearing cowboy on his perfect fucking horse, roping a baby fucking cow. 

He slipped the knot around it from his perch on the moving horse, lassoing it easily like that was a common skill, and with a fluid practiced movement, he tossed himself off the slowing horse, getting on one knee to tip over the calf and tie it up like it was second nature. 

And maybe it was. Performing in a show like this. 

That’s all it was, a performance. Practiced and rehearsed over and over for Steve and June. 

It was over in a blink, Steve tossing his hands up to show he was finished, and the calf didn’t break its bonds. 

The whistle blew and Steve’s time was read to the arena. Nine seconds. And apparently, nine seconds was a good time, judging by the way Steve’s raised his fists in the air, and patted June’s neck so gently. 

He mounted back on his gorgeous horse as the calf he had roped was released by a few of the rodeo workers and the next guy took his position at the starting line. 

Steve did a lap around the arena of June’s back, smiling and waving to the crowd. 

And maybe Billy just has an overactive imagination. 

Maybe his stupid gay brain was looking for something not there. 

But he could’ve sworn he saw Steve grin just a little bit brighter in his direction. 

There were a few riders after him. Competing to earn a faster score on the same track. 

But Billy didn’t give a fuck about calf roping if he wasn’t watching Steve and June. 

The sun was setting as Billy finally led Max out of the fairgrounds, one hand on the top of her head, steering her towards the Camaro. 

“So, you think we can come back next weekend” Max was giving him a big shit-eating grin, powdered sugar all done her front from the final funnel cake Billy had shelled out to buy her. 

“Don’t see why not. Get’s us outta the fuckin’ house, don’t it.”

“Plus, there are lots of good-looking cowboys, just everywhere. Did you see the guy doing the cattle roping, or whatever? He was cute .” Billy rolled his eyes. Max was just touching the age when she stopped thinking of boys as gross, saw them as cute, and whatever else she said. It also made her realize that having a gay brother apparently meant talking about nothing but boys. It made Billy wanna slam his head into the steering wheel. He grunted in response as she kept going on and on about Steve. 

Like Billy didn’t see the way his thighs gripped the sides of his horse, like he didn’t watch as he hurled himself off June to tie up the fucking calf. Like he didn’t watch him take that fucking victory lap, shit-eating grin looking like home on his pretty fucking face. 

“You gotta carry your own weight, you know that, right Shitbird? I’m talking, pay for your own damn fried shit.” He bets Susan would give him money for tickets if he acts real nice this week. 

He can’t blow all his savings at the fucking rodeo of all things this summer. He’s got plans for the wad of cash burning a hole in the shoebox in the back of his closet. 

Max huffed at him. 

“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? I’m thirteen .”

“So? Babysit or some shit. Rob an ATM. Fuck if I care. Just quit stealing all ‘a my goddamn cash for your fuckin’ funnel cakes .”

“You’re just pissed off because you didn’t try one. They’re the best. You gotta have one next week.”

“I, unlike you, care about what I put in my body.”

“Yeah, because cigarettes and beer are so much better than fried dough .”

“Whatever.” The truth is, Billy’s gotta watch what he eats. Max didn’t know him when he was prepubescent and chubby. He can’t be sitting there shoving funnel cakes in his mouth and not expect it to all go to his gut. Not like her. There’s not an ounce of fucking baby fat on her. She’s positively scrawny. If anything, the funnel cake might help her out a bit. 

“Yeah, whatever .” She huffed, slumping back in her passenger seat. “But can we come back?”

“Fuck, if you keep askin’ me, the answer’s no .”

She huffed again. She does that a whole lot when they talk. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I saw the way you were watching Steve race. You were practically drooling .” 

Billy clenched his jaw. 

“Was not .”

“Was too .” 

And Max had a knack of leading Billy into moments like this, childish little arguments that made him feel kinda weird inside. Made him feel kinda warm at how sibling it was. Like they hadn’t been forced together just a few years ago. 

For all his bitching, he really did like the little spit. If he didn’t, he’d be a bigger asshole than she’s always accusing him of being. 

“You don’t even know what I look like when I’m really eyeing a boy, if you think that was it. Just, you know. Respected his riding.”

“ Respected his riding. Yeah ‘cause you wish he was riding-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m pushing you out of the fucking car.”

“I’m right, though.”

Billy just reached forward to turn up the radio, letting Dee Snider drown out any other awful shit Max wanted to say to him. 

Which was probably showing his hand too much. No direct answer pretty much means affirmative when it comes to Billy. And yeah, Max knows that. Judging by the way she’s cackling like a goddamn gremlin over the sound of the music. 

He just pressed his foot down further on the gas pedal, letting them fly down the highway. 

And he thought about Steve and June, thought about how fast Steve could press that girl to go. Thought about him leaning forward, flattening himself to the horse’s neck, gripping onto the reins and urging her forward, urging her faster. 

And if he thought about those strong legs wrapped around him, if he thought about what Max was about to say, Steve riding Billy like he would that fucking horse, his hips flexing as he bounces up and down, well, that’s his business. 

And the next Saturday, Susan slid him a crisp twenty-dollar bill to buy Max some lunch at the rodeo. 

They took it more seriously this time, bringing water bottles, and Max slathering thick white sunscreen on her freckled skin. 

Billy even wore shorts, some old jeans he sacrificed to the summer gods when he wore holes in the thighs and chopped pretty much in half. 

And it was kinda fun. 

He knew what to expect now. Knew the barrel racing was all women, all beautiful horses winding their way along clover-shaped tracks. He knew that the bull riding was a little more fun to watch with a shot in him, and that his fake i.d. could get him an alcohol wristband from the tent at the front.

Max sneered at him when he bought himself a beer later in the day. 

“Uh, you know you have to drive me home, right? Like, and not crash your stupid car on the way home.” 

“Fuck off. It’s one beer.”

“And also that shot earlier, and I know you have a flask.”

“Okay, what are you, the cops? I’m just tryna enjoy myself in this blistering fucking heat. I don’t exactly get my rocks off to any of this shit.” Which is a lie. He’s totally sold on every stupid fucking event at the motherfucking rodeo. 

“Fine. You wanna get stupid and drunk? Then you have to take me to the pageant. I wanna watch it.”

“Since fucking when do you give a shit about the pageant .” Max glared at him. Her nose was beginning to get red. 

Maybe if Billy were less of a shithead he would tell her to put some sunscreen on. But she was really testing his patience today. 

And then her eyes went huge, and her jaw went slack, and Billy was just about to tell her to close it and quit lookin’ like a dead fuckin’ fish when he heard someone cough slightly behind him. 

And when he turned, he almost made the exact same stupid dead fish face as Max. 

Because gorgeous cowboy Steve was standing right in front of him. In another cracker of a flannel shirt, stupid blue jeans, and fucking cowboy boots, because yeah. He’s a goddamn hick that rides a horse and ties up calves in a traveling rodeo for a fucking living. 

And God save Billy, because hot damn. 

Steve had an easy smile on his face, a little bit lopsided, and perfect white teeth showing between perfect pink lips. 

“Hey there.”

“Howdy,” Billy responded before he could stop himself, his face burning up. 

He was hoping he was already sweaty enough Steve wouldn’t notice the flush. 

But thankfully, Steve’s smile went wider, and he laughed, this gorgeous bright laugh, his head tossing back, and that thick hair flowing easily. 

He had gold streaks in his hair, lighter browns tussled within the darker colors. Billy wondered if they were natural, days spent out in the sun on his horse. Part of him hoped they weren’t. Part of him hoped that Steve was that intentional with himself and his goddamn hair. 

He smiled at Billy. 

“I’m Steve.”

“We saw you. Last weekend,” Max blurted out before Billy could kick her. She looked shocked that she had even spoken when Billy turned to give her a death glare. But Steve just laughed his gorgeous laugh again. 

“And what’d you think?”

“She wouldn’t shut up about you on the way home.” And Steve was back to looking at Billy, and his eyes are so fucking big, like, who’s eyes are just. Like that. Just fuckin’. Big. 

“And what about you, uh-”

“Billy. And this is Max. My sister.”

“Well, Billy,” and fuck Billy nearly creamed himself at the sound of Steve saying his name. “Did you like my display of talents ?”

“Could say so. I don’t give too many shits about all this hick farm stuff. But I can respect it.”

“Well, that’s alright then.” And Steve reached out to pat Billy once on the shoulder. “I hope I see y’all around. I gotta head off, June needs some TLC before our time.” He smiled at Max, and her already red face flushed deeper, almost blending into the roots of her flaming hair. 

And then he doubled back. 

“You know what, I forgot why I came over here in the first place.” He was digging through his jeans, rummaging around in his back pockets. 

Billy wanted to slide his hands in there, cop a feel while he helped Steve look for whatever he was going to offer Billy. 

And then Steve brought out two white wristbands. 

“They’re for, uh, VIP seating and stuff. If you’re interested. Gets you closer to the arena. That way I can just see what you look like after I’m comin’ off a ride.”

Hoo boy. 

This little cowboy has some fucking charm. 

And he knows it too, judging by his smug little half-smile he gave Billy while he fastened the wristband around his wrist. 

He helped Max with hers, doing it faster than he had Billy’s, and with a lot less eye contact, which was a good sign. He’s not perving on his twelve-year-old sister. Which is cool. 

And then he was looking back at Billy, and brushing his long fingers over the tops of Billy’s shoulders, his arms out in his shirt, the arms torn off an old Aerosmith t-shirt he found at the Goodwill last year. 

“You should reapply sunblock. Don’t want you burning now.” And Billy’s sure if Steve was wearing a Stetson, he woulda tipped it at them. “Enjoy the pageant.”

And he was off, and Christ, those jeans. How did Steve even successfully ride his horse in those things? They were so tight, showed off his nice peachy ass as he walked through the fairgrounds. 

“Wow,” Max said. And yeah, Billy felt the same. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, based on the way he was flirting with me, and also that he’s way too old for you, but, uh, dibs .”

“Billy, you can’t just call dibs on a person.” Billy just laughed. 

He knows that his twelve-year-old fucking sister doesn’t have a shot in Hell with Steve. Really, he doubts he even has a shot in Hell with Steve, but he also likes to spend his time making her life as difficult as possible without actually being a shitty person. So, he just riles her up. Says shit that’ll get her going. He wouldn’t be doing his brotherly duties if he didn’t say that shit. 

Max calls it even by kicking him in the shin twice and making him watch the stupid beauty pageant. 

Which, like, why the fuck are there beauty pageants at the rodeo anyway? 

Turns out it wasn’t pageant at all, but the four previous Miss Rodeo’s all lined up and looking far too glammed out for this fucking heat. 

Max faked being disgruntled by the disappointment, but Billy knows, somewhere inside that tough bitch little soul of hers, she’s glad she didn’t have to sit through a goddamn pageant just to make Billy miserable. 

Besides, Billy had whipped out his flask a few times, and he was feeling alright. Just buzzed enough that the heat had stopped making him feel quite so disgusting. 

But not too drunk to miss calf roping. 

And yeah, maybe it was a little bit lame to make their way over to the VIP seating earlier enough that they scored the front row. But when Steve came trotting out, leading June behind him, Billy was close enough he could pick out the cluster of moles on Steve’s left cheek. 

So, lame was not in Billy’s vocabulary today. 

It was pretty much the same thing as last week. Steve made everyone in the arena ooh and aah with his riding, tied up the calf in less than ten seconds once again. 

But this time, when he took that jaunty little lap around the small arena, Billy knows for a fact Steve grinned at him. Knows his stupid gay brain wasn’t making up the wink he tossed effortlessly in Billy’s direction. 

And they left, just like last weekend, as the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. 

“Just, c’mon. Mom gave you money .” Max was whining for a corn dog, of all things. When they have perfectly good, not fried food, at home. 

“Maxine, I swear to Christ, I’m fucking tired. Let’s go home so I can crash, and you can fucking drive Susan up the goddamn wall with your whining.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” And Billy felt his insides curdling at that voice, felt himself wilting and shriveling because he would not be getting out of this day without one final, no doubt embarrassing, encounter with his gorgeous cowboy. 

Steve was leaning against a booth selling chili fries, looking like a perfect picture of a Clint Eastwood movie. 

Billy had never liked westerns. 

But he was gonna go home and spend all night watching every one he could get his grubby little hands on. 

Steve pushed off the side of the booth as Max found her words again. 

“You don’t have to live with him.”

“And you don’t have to live with my folks. I’d trade you any day.” 

And Billy nearly died. Right there. On the spot. Because. Holy shit. I’d trade you any day. 

Billy was more than happy to follow this fucking hick around America, watch him ride his pretty horse before fucking him against the stable wall. 

Or whatever. Do they have stables? Billy doesn’t know how a traveling rodeo works. 

But like, they’ve gotta have stables, right?

“Nah, you’d get sick of him. He stinks.”

“Have you ever smelled horse shit? Because that’s the fragrance I wake up to every morning.”

And Max was laughing, and Steve was laughing, and Billy was trying to keep his hands as casually as possible in front of his slight chub. 

“Will I get the privilege of seeing you two again?” And what a way to word it? The privilege. And then Steve was looking Billy up and down, and he was biting that perfect bottom lip and opening his mouth and “I could always give you my phone number. So we can. Meet up. Next time you’re here.”

“‘Course. You can give us the grand tour.”

And Steve was digging in those tight back pockets again, and shoving his phone into Billy’s hand, and he doesn’t have a passcode, but his home screen was a picture of him and his fucking horse which is, just about the sweetest thing Billy’s ever seen. 

And Billy put himself in as Billy Hargrove , and then panicked because Steve doesn’t know his fucking last name. So he settled for Billy and then for good measure shoved San Diego after it because. Billy’s a common name, okay?

And Steve took his non-password protected fuckin’ horse girl phone, and Billy was giving him as charming a smile as he could muster with sweat on his upper lip and saying-

“You better text me, Pretty Boy. So I can save your number.” Billy shrugged, looking off to his left to try and seem. Nonchalant. “In case I wanna see you again.” 

And Max was rolling her eyes, but she wasn’t stopping away. Wasn’t even whining at Billy, no doubt on her best behavior in front of hot cowboy Steve. 

But Steve had a glint in his eye, and if Max wasn’t here Billy would be playing this all different, laying on the charm a lot thicker than he was. 

But he can’t be a horny bastard in front of her. That’s just, like, gross. 

So he settles for making a real show of licking his bottom lip, and maybe flexing his bare arms just a tiny bit. 

“We should probably get goin’. Got a curfew for this one,” Billy jerked his head in Max’s direction. She huffed before she could stop herself. “See you around, Cowboy Steve.”

And Steve gave another one of his pretty ringing laughs. 

“Come again soon, Billy and Max.” And again, Billy’s sure that if Steve were wearing a hat, he would’ve flicked the brim at them as he set off back into the rodeo, dodgin off the main thoroughfare. 

“Wow. That was embarrassing for you.” 

Billy whipped his head around to stare at Max, giving her the most disgusted look he could muster. 

“The fuck you mean?”

“You were so obvious.”

“That’s the fucking point . We were flirting. It’s supposed to be obvious, you demon.” Billy shoved her once before stomping in the direction of the parking lot. 

“Yeah but you were like, making these faces at him.”

“Shut the fuck up. I know what I was doing, okay? It was all very calculated . Let him know I’m down for it, and if he texts, then I’m good to go. If not, then I move on.”

And the thought of Steve not texting was kinda, disappointing. Because Billy really wanted him to text. He wanted to stay up late giggling at his phone and the dumb things Steve texts him and pretend they don’t make him flush like a fucking school girl. 

He pointedly didn’t look at his notification when he reached the car, just shoved an old tape in and turned up Black Sabbath when Max wrinkled her nose at it. 

They were both quiet on the drive back home. Something heavy unsaid between them. 

And only as Billy was pulling into his spot in the driveway did Max suck in a big breath to actually put it out there. 

“I won’t tell. About him. Not even Mom. Not even that I think he’s cool.”

“Thanks. Easier just to. Avoid at all costs.” 

And if Billy were a better person, maybe he would hug her or something. 

But they don’t do that. Instead he sighed and didn’t hip check her violently off the porch like his instincts were telling him. So really, he’s a fucking saint.