#usually hate writing bj scenes

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

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[dark-fics-4-you]

wow for the first time in my life i’m enjoying writing a blowjob scene

[lukesaprince]

Rich Part 23

Summary: Harry and y/n deal with the aftermath of y/n's panic attack and do some retail therapy to prepare for their trip.

Warning: Smut, public bj & masturbation, exhibitionism, daddy!kink. Mention of panic attacks, Ethan and illegal dealings.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: This chapter isn't as long as I hoped it would be and I wasn't able to get a lot of the Pleasing scene complete. I haven't been in a good writing space recently and I really want to make sure it's all planned out properly but I wanted to post something in the mean time for you! Enjoyy

- Find Series Masterlist Here -

- Find my General Masterlist here -

Harry’s stomach was in knots. It had been twisted since the moment he let you walk away from him at his office. His head was in a constant state of nausea and the very thought of you being so far from him had his body aching. Your trip was coming up so quickly, two weeks exactly now and things had taken such a sudden switch he was dizzy. 

He hadn’t seen you for a couple of days, or spoken to you properly either. For anyone else that would be normal. Seeing your partner every day wasn’t a prerequisite to having a happy relationship, but to Harry it was torture. Other than your text message when you got home Wednesday, you hadn’t spoken to him. He sent his usual good morning text Thursday morning and was only met with silence. He worked through his lunch that day so he couldn’t call you like usual, but if that ever happened he expected you to call him first. You never did. 

He tried to call you that night, then again Friday morning but you ignored him both times. He was starting to panic, starting to fear that you were seriously not okay or that he had done something to fuck everything up even if he didn’t realise it. He knew you two could communicate if that was the case, that your relationship was strong enough for you to speak to him if he did something wrong. After everything you two had been through, your foundation was strong. At least Harry believed so. 

But knowing it could be the former option and you could be at home in an unstable mental state was far worse than the possibility of him doing something that warranted you ignoring him. Harry didn’t want to push you, but he also couldn’t handle the unknown. 

He was meant to spend Saturday with you. You were going to meet him in the city to get as much shopping done for your trip as possible then he would spend the night. It was your last free day before locking down for studying and Harry wanted to make it something stress-free and enjoyable to give you a mental break. You only had a couple of free days after your exams before you both flew out so there wasn’t a lot of time to get the key essentials once your semester was over. Mostly you just wanted new clothes and wanted to pick things out for Harry as well. He was happy to oblige. 

But now… he didn’t even know if you two were okay. 

So he decided that he needed to see you. You could turn him away and tell him that you needed space or hated him or preferably that you loved him. Whatever you wanted. Harry didn’t care what you said, as long as he found you alive and okay. 

Early Saturday morning Harry was driving to your place with a bouquet of fresh lilies, a large oat latte and a croissant from your favourite local bakery. He didn’t have your keycard anymore so he couldn’t let himself in… but Harry was creative. It felt a bit reckless and immature actually, calling your best friend to let him in like it was some plot for forgiveness, especially when he was just checking up on you. But Harry didn’t want to risk you coming downstairs and turning away without seeing him or worse, just plain ignoring him.

“Hey, Harry.” Maeve greeted, smiling at the man as she held open the entrance door for him. It was especially cold outside now, so he was quick to rush inside and let the door close before he hugged her quickly as a hello. 

“Hey, Maeve. Thanks for doing this.” 

“It’s fine. You’re lucky I like you.” She teased, bumping his shoulder while they walked towards the elevator. 

Harry was fortunate enough to spend more time with your friends. As were you to spend more time with Niall and Jed. Since Harry was mostly spending time at your place, he had spent time with Maeve and Jay, even Dakari. Usually, it was just your neighbour and coworker, but there was a double date situation where Harry became aware of the ‘older guy’ Maeve was dating. 

Dakari and Harry knew each other through golf and Pleasing. They weren’t exceptionally close, but they got on well enough to treat their beautiful girlfriends to an expensive dinner in the city. Dakari was actually interested in investing in Pleasing, but Harry didn’t particularly like the way he conducted business and would’ve rather owned a third of the club than share a sixth with a man he didn’t want to associate with. Harry was glad for that decision now, since his once silent investment turned into him having a say in business decisions and provided perks that he loved to use. 

He hadn’t really used them since he met you but he hoped one day he would. With you. 

“Yeah, well, I appreciate it… Have you seen her? I haven’t spoken to her since Wednesday and I’m really fucking worried.” Harry admitted, holding the door of the elevator open for Maeve. 

“Yeah, I have.” She nodded, “she told me what happened... It’s pretty fucked up. I hope you’ve dealt with that asshole.”

Harry assumed that meant everything. 

“I have. I mean, I will.” That still didn’t mean he was going to elaborate. The plan he had set in place to deal with Ethan was one for the inner circle only. The original, small, tightly-knit circle. It was illegal after all. To frame a man for stealing $250,000. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay… I think she just needed space, that’s all. I wouldn’t take it personally, Harry. She loves you.”

“I know and I don’t. Well, I’m trying not to, anyway.”

The rest of the ride was full of polite small talk. Maeve complimented the flowers and the croissant, but Harry didn’t need her approval to know you loved them. He knew you would because he knew everything about you. Everything except how you were feeling right now. 

Harry made sure Maeve went back to her apartment before he knocked on your door. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie, but he was hoping that you two could talk about your panic attack and hopefully end up having a nice day together. He just wanted to hold you and see you smile. 

The door swung open barely ten seconds after Harry knocked and there you were. And you looked… okay. Thank God, you looked okay. He could see the tiredness in your eyes and body by the droop of your shoulders and bags under your eyes. You hadn’t changed out of your plaid pyjamas yet but that was normal. Aside from your clear exhaustion, you looked well. 

“Hi…” Harry breathed, smiling softly. “I wanted to check up on you. You haven’t answered my calls or texts…”

Your eyes softened and it took a moment before you said or did anything. Without saying anything, you pulled him inside by his nice vest and wrapped your arms around his body, pressing yourself against him. He reciprocated the best he could with his hands full and loosely wrapped his arms around your shoulders, breathing out a huge sigh of relief.

There was a flood of instant relief through Harry just at your tight hug. Like a heavy weight dropped from his shoulders the moment you buried your face into the light blue checks of his vest. God was he fucking ecstatic. Just having your body in his arms was euphoric and there was no feeling quite like the comfortable intimacy of a hug. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.” 

He could barely understand you with how your face was pressed against him, but he made out the words and was immediately taken aback. 

“What? Baby, why are you sorry?” He soothed, now desperate to free his hands so he could take care of you properly. 

“I didn’t mean to ignore you, I was just…” you sighed and pressed your cheek to him instead, sliding your hands beneath his vest and shirt to feel his warm skin. It was like a clutch for normalcy, a tie to feeling okay again. The last few days had been so murky and unsettling. All you wanted was to feel safe again. Harry never failed to make you feel safe and yet you pushed him away. It wasn’t fair to him and it went against everything you two tried so hard to build. “The panic attack freaked me out and I needed time to sort my feelings out… I shouldn’t have ignored you, H. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t spologise baby, please…” Harry paused, “just-let me put these down, okay? Then we can talk properly?” 

You pulled back and looked up at him, reluctantly releasing him from the hug. It was barely a minute before he was on you again. All he did was set the three items on your little table before he wrapped his arms around you properly and squeezed you tight against his body, rocking you slightly from side to side. You gladly inhaled his masculine scent, finding comfort in the rich, sexiness. It was unfair that he always smelt so good. Even after the gym he still smelt like a sexy, clean wealthy man. 

“You don’t need to apologise, y/n. I know it freaked you out.” Harry soothed, pressing his lips against the crown of your head, “I was just really fucking worried. You scared the hell out of me.”

“I know. I just wasn’t expecting it to happen at all and once it did I just kept thinking and thinking and I was just so angry and exhausted. It was a lot.”  

“I know. Trust me I get it. They can be the most debilitating thing in the entire world…” Harry soothed, pulling back from you. “Do you want to go sit down and talk about it?” 

With a nod, Harry guided you to sit down on your bed with him. It was still unmade, but Harry didn’t care. You took it a step further and crawled back towards your pillows to lie down on it instead before patting the spot beside you so Harry would join you. He shoved his shoes off then shuffled in beside you, adjusting himself so you were cuddled into his chest.

It was all done in comfortable silence and once you were settled in, Harry decided to speak first. 

“They can be traumatic.” Harry murmured, “I spent nearly five hours in the gym after one of my panic attacks.” At his words, you untucked your face from his chest and looked up at him to watch him speak. He smiled down at you, stroking his fingers across your cheek like his words weren’t deeply personal and from a dark period of his life. “I worked my body so hard and wrecked myself because I was trying to deal with my emotions. Or trying not to deal, more like it. I definitely paid for it afterwards but at the time it was the only thing I knew would get my mind off it.”

“I came home Wednesday and cried,” You whispered, watching his eyes sadden. It killed him that he wasn’t there to help you. “Then I went and bought Red Bulls and chips and pulled an all-nighter to finish off an assignment like it was nothing. I was so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I was angry, yeah, but I was also so far out of my head that I just wanted to distract myself.” 

“We all do unhealthy things to cope sometimes, y/n. There’s no one way to deal with things. Pulling an all nighter might not be the best way but you were doing the best you could to cope.”

“It didn’t help.” You frowned, tracing the checks on his vest with your nail.

“I can’t imagine it did.” He chuckled softly, sighing when you didn’t look up at him. “Don’t beat yourself up for it, baby... Maeve told me you spoke to her about it. Did that help?”

So that’s how he got in. You couldn’t really be upset by it. Maeve wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to see him. You were just… a bit nervous to make the first move. 

“It did. It was good to rant about it with someone who didn’t really know anyone involved.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” 

Harry hoped you would. After hearing nothing for days he just wanted an insight into your head. 

“You don’t have to.” He continued softly, prompting you to look up at him, “I’m happy to just be here with you if that’s what you need.” He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “I would’ve been here when it happened too. I hope you know that. You don’t have to go through these things alone if you don’t want to.”

“I know but I was just so overstimulated I think and… I didn’t want to say anything I regretted,” an unreadable look flashed through Harry’s eyes, like he wasn’t exactly sure how to take what you were saying. You sighed, looking back down at the same quad of checks you had been tracing with your finger during this entire conversation, “I don’t think I ever really processed what happened with Ethan and… your part in it, I guess. There’s been so much going on that I just kept ignoring it and ignoring his existence completely. Seeing him really triggered me and the more I thought about it…” you sighed again, “the more I was angry at you too, not just Ethan.” 

“You were?”

“I know you’ve only done what you thought the right thing to do was. But I just don’t get how you can work with him every day. He hurt me so fucking badly Harry…” you could feel your throat starting to get scratchy and your eyes prickling with tears. The stinging forced you to turn from him and close your eyes momentarily, but it did nothing to conceal how you were feeling. The sight practically broke Harry’s heart. “I don’t get how you can even be in the same building as him. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“I feel sick every day I have to see him, y/n. I’ve done everything I can to make sure we never cross paths but sometimes it’s inevitable. He was never meant to be on my floor on Wednesday and I never would’ve let him come anywhere near you if I knew.”

“But you still work with him, Harry!” You sat up abruptly, looking down at him. “It doesn’t make sense. He’s getting no consequences for what he put us through. I get you couldn’t go to the police because there was no evidence, I get it. But I need to do something. I need you to do something.”

“I am.” He didn’t want to get frustrated at you, not when you were hurting but he was hurting too. This wasn’t fucking easy for him and if the law meant nothing he would’ve gone after Ethan himself and made sure he never bothered you or anyone else again. But he couldn’t exactly do that, could he? He sat up as well, nudging backwards until his back was against your headboard. “Y/n I’ve been dealing with him at work the last couple of months because I had to for my plan to work. I couldn’t do anything out of the ordinary because I didn’t want to bring any attention to myself, but I have a plan. It’s just one of those things you have to wait for.”

“What is it? This plan?” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking at him expectantly. 

“I can’t tell you.” Harry almost seemed reluctant to say the words, but it wasn’t because he was apprehensive about his decision to keep it a secret from you, it was because he wasn’t sure how you’d react. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, but at the same time he wasn’t going to compromise your safety and your future. 

Because that’s what it came down to. If everything went to shit and you knew even one single detail about it, you were done. 

He wasn’t going to let that happen but he also wasn’t going to sit here and lie and pretend that nothing was going on behind the scenes. That’s something he would’ve done at the beginning of your relationship, but he knew that this was just as much your fight as his and lying wasn’t the right thing to do. He could be honest and keep you safe at the same time. 

“What do you mean? Why?” 

You were immediately jumping to many conclusions, all Harry wanted to settle. He just wasn’t sure how. 

“Because it’s not exactly legal, y/n and while it’s pretty fucking foolproof I can’t risk anything. If the whole thing comes crashing down I don’t want you knowing a single bit of it.”

“But that’s-” 

“You will find out. I promise.” He interrupted, “just not until it’s over. I’m not budging on this.”

As much as you wanted Ethan to pay, you didn’t want it like this. You always knew he covered his tracks well but you hoped that by now there’d be some loose thread. Someone with hard evidence to be able to get him punished and that clearly wasn’t the case. But that didn’t mean you wanted Harry risking everything, either. It was exactly how you felt when you first met Niall and Jed and learnt about how they were blackmailing Ethan into handing over the photos. It was reckless and a huge fucking crime. You prayed that it wasn’t the same plan because nothing on this fucking planet was worth Harry going to jail and you losing him. You couldn’t even bare the thought.

“I don’t want you doing anything illegal Harry. It’s stupid!” Your voice broke in your distress, shooting Harry right in the heart like a goddamn bullet. “I’d rather him get away with everything than have you risk yourself. What if you go to jail or what if it doesn’t work? I can’t… I can’t lose you.” 

“You won’t lose me.” His eyes softened and he reached forward to cup your cheek, “You won’t.” his thumb traced over your cheek and he couldn’t help but kiss you gently before pressing his forehead against yours. “I understand you’re scared, y/n but I have to do this not only for you but for me too… I have no choice but to go down this route because he left nothing for me to work with. Fucking nothing. If there was another way, I would do it. But this is it.” 

“And you can’t tell me?” you whispered, wishing you could pry the whole truth from his mouth. 

“No.” He shook his head, leaning back just a tad so he could see your whole face at once. “But I’ve done all my due diligence, baby, I promise and I’m as far removed from it as I possibly can be. So please, just, let this one go. For now.”

“I’ll try…” you settled on, unable to promise anything more. “How long am I letting this go though? A couple of weeks? A month?” 

Harry sighed and leaned back against your headboard, “I don’t know. Could be while we’re on holiday, could be in a couple months. When I know, you know.”

“And in the meantime you’re just going to keep working with him? That doesn’t seem fair” You didn’t particularly like that idea. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t want him stepping foot into that office again while that asshole was walking around free and triggering panic attacks left right and centre. 

“Well…” His lip quirked up in a smile, “I was hoping we’d enjoy our holiday together and then who knows… maybe I won’t go back to work once we’re home. I haven’t decided yet but I’ve wanted to do something different for a while now. Just not sure what.” 

“I didn't know you were thinking of changing jobs.”

He shrugged, tracing random patterns on your back through your pyjama shirt. “I haven’t been planning anything per say, but I’m a bit bored. Seeing that asshole around doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t seem worth it anymore, not when I can do anything else and be happier for it.”

“A career change at your ripe age? That’s ballsy.” You mused, squealing and jumping slightly when he pinched your ass. 

“Well I haven’t decided anything yet, just considering my options. At my ripe age I’ve done quite well for myself so I wouldn’t mind a bit of time off. Maybe be a stay at home boyfriend while you study your pretty little ass off in your final semester.” He reached up to fiddle with the ends of your hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

“A stay at home boyfriend?” You scoffed, laughing loudly. “Stop.”

“What?” He laughed, amusement laced in his widened eyes, “we’ve got a son and two households to run, someone has to be around to cook and take care of the place.”

A son. There was something so heartwarming about Archie being referred to as your son, especially when Harry was being so casual about it. Like it was normal. Put the son reference and conjoining your two houses as one and well… that was about as committed as you could be without moving in together. Not that you were anywhere near that stage yet. 

“One of those households has a maid, a gardener and a dog walker, I’m sure it’s just fine.” You rolled your eyes, “But if you want to take care of this place and feed me I won’t complain.” 

“I’d be more than happy to feed you and fulfill any other needs you have.” He announced proudly, squeezing your hip before reaching in to peck you quickly. “Which reminds me-” he got out of bed, going to your table where your coffee and sweet treat were still waiting for you. “I got you these.” You shuffled up into a cross legged position, happily grabbing the two items when Harry sat back down on your bed. 

“Thank you.” You sipped your drink, loving the sweet taste of it. “And thank you for driving all the way down here. It means a lot.” You tore open the paper bag, ripping off a small piece of the croissant and offering it to Harry. 

“No no. It’s yours.” He declined, happy when you didn’t argue and at the piece. “And you don’t need to thank me. I love you, y/n and I wanted to see you. I always do” He smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I love you too.” You pressed your hand on his knee and reached in to kiss him quickly, loving the way his hand returned to your back to trace random shapes over it. “I love this by the way. I never thought I’d find a vest sexy but you look really good.” You traced over the v-neck of his checkered vest with your clean hand, looking up at him. You really missed him. 

“Thanks darling. It’s vintage.” He smirked, wrapping his arm around your hip to drag you back to sit properly beside him. You felt a little dirty compared to him in his nice outfit, especially since you had been wearing the same clothes for days and desperately needed to wash your hair. Harry didn’t seem to care though and you really appreciated that. Washing your hair was a mission by itself. Add a panic attack and assignment stress and you couldn’t think of anything worse, even if the thought of a long hot shower did sound quite nice. 

“I like it.” You took a big bite of your croissant this time, moaning at the taste of the chocolate filling. You slumped against Harry, happily chewing it while he rubbed your hip and kissed your head. 

“Good?” He mused, sliding his hand just underneath your pyjama top to feel your soft skin. 

“So good.” You nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’m glad.” He laughed. A comfortable silence fell over you two, with small comments and conversation here and there. It was nice to just spend time with Harry, even if you weren’t doing much of anything. “Would you still be interested in going shopping?”

“Today?” You sat up properly and looked at him, both your coffee and croisssnt long gone and in your stomach. 

“If you’re up for it. We did plan for today but there’s no pressure. I’m more than happy to change into comfortable clothes and watch Netflix all day. Truly.” 

“No no. I could go shopping. We need to get ready for our trip, right?” You grinned, getting excited at the thought of a day walking around the shops and buying so many cute outfits for your trip. Secretly though, you liked the idea of Harry going with you more than the shopping itself. 

“We do. Yes.” He smiled, happy that you had a bit more energy. Harry hated seeing you down. Any emotion except pleasure and happiness had him determined to fix whatever the issue was. “Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yep.” You climbed over him to get out of bed, stopping when you were straddling him. His hands found your hips immediately, unable to keep them off you. “I need to wash my hair though, so can you wait an hour? I’ll try and be quick.”

An hour. By that calculation you were doing your ‘everything shower’ and a full face of makeup. Harry now knew what that meant, but he was happy to sit around and keep himself occupied if that meant you were taking care of yourself. The concept wasn’t as relaxing as he thought it would be. It was more of a frustrating marathon of events where each one presented its own challenge. He made the mistake of wanting to join you for one of them, thinking it would be fun and you ended up kicking him out because you didn’t have enough space to shave the back of your leg. 

If there was one shower he let you have alone, it was that one. 

Harry chuckled and nodded, squeezing your hips then helping you climb the rest of the way off the bed. “Take your time, y/n. We’ve got all day.” 

You managed to get everything done in just over an hour and then you and Harry were on your way to the city. You grabbed another coffee as soon as you made it into the shopping centre, then the shop-to-shop walking began. There were a few items you had on your list that you were aiming to buy, but for the most part you just wanted to try a bunch of stuff on and see what you liked. Harry of course was happy to offer his suggestions and his wallet which only seemed to get him more excited to pick things out for you. 

“I was thinking…”

“Mh?” You hummed, buckling up the buckle on a pair of baby pink suede platform heels. They definitely weren’t Europe-appropriate, but you got a little sidetracked and with Harry encouraging you to try on everything you so much as looked at, it was easy to get distracted by anything that looked pretty.

“After your assignment is submitted Friday, why don’t we pack up your place and you can stay with me until we leave for our trip?”

“Harry I still have to study for two exams. As much as I love that idea, you don’t want me taking over your house.” You responded, standing up from the couch to test the comfort of the shoes. You stepped around them a little, walking to the closest mirror to have a look at them properly. “And I’m sure my parents would hate that I’m spending a week at yours instead of going home.”

“But you weren’t meant to go home at all, remember? Not until your exams were finished.” Harry coaxed, standing up from the couch to step behind you in the mirror and wrap his arms around your waist. You shivered slightly against him, still focusing on looking at the heels on your feet. “This time you’re close to home, close to Archie…” He hummed, sliding his nose up the side of your neck. This time you really shivered and your focus was taken completely away from your shoes. Not that you were thinking of buying them anyway. They were way too expensive but the allure of trying on Prada shoes alongside a man who already put aside a pair of sunglasses and a belt for himself was way too strong. “Close to me…” this time his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail right underneath your ear. 

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, making Harry smirk at you in the mirror. Oh he had you now. Your body was becoming more pliant in his arms and you were leaning against him more and more with every passing second. 

“You could study during the day and have Archie keep you company then at night I could feed you and help you… relax,” his hand flattened against your belly, causing the bold rings on his fingers to twinkle in the lighting. You had a sudden craving for those fingers to be in your mouth or further down south where he actually could make you relax. 

“I’ll be studying all the time, Harry.” You weren’t sure why you were protesting it so much, not when the thought of a quick orgasm as your 15-minute study break sounded so delicious. 

“And I’ll be right there beside you, working or reading or providing you with a quick… study break. Whatever you need, hm.” He drawled, kissing your cheek. All you could do was nod because you were so fucking dazed and way too horny in the middle of a store you couldn’t afford. “Do you like the shoes?”

“What?” 

You didn’t even hear what he said.

“The shoes.” He tapped your belly, looking down at your feet. “Are they comfortable?”

“Oh…” You tried to snap out of it and stepped a little in place, feeling the shoes mould perfectly to your feet. God, why did you have to love something so expensive? “Yeah, they’re comfy but I don’t need them.”

“Nonsense. They’re baby pink, your favourite colour.” Harry grinned, pulling back to step in front of you instead. The fact that he called it ‘baby pink’ and not ‘light pink’ had you screaming on the inside. He grabbed onto one of your hands, holding it out between you. “Do a spin.”

You did as told and did a 360 spin for him, liking how your heights were a bit more even with the tall heel. Without saying anything more to you, he turned to the sales associate who was waiting patiently beside the couch Harry was just sitting on. “Do you have a matching bag to these? In a baby pink?”

“Yes, sir. We have a cross body and a shoulder bag.”

“Perfect. Bring them both, please.” Harry turned back to you, then suddenly whipped his head around to the woman before she could step away, “Oh, and please bring some sunglasses too. Anything you think might suit her. Thanks, love.”

“Harry, what are you doing?” You hissed, “I’m not buying anything.”

“No, I am. I like you in pink. Besides, isn’t a shoulder bag and sunglasses a necessity for a holiday?” He mused, squeezing your hips. “Let me spoil you, darling. For doing so well on your exams.”

“I haven’t even done them yet.” You blushed, protesting slightly while threading your fingers behind his neck. “You don’t have to buy me such expensive things, H. You’ve already gotten me so much today.”

“And? You deserve it.” Harry assured you, reaching forward to kiss you gently. The lipstick you applied before you left was almost gone by now. Harry could barely keep his hands off you and you didn’t really want him to. These quick, casual pecks and signs of affection meant so much more to you than anything he could buy. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, threading your fingers softly into the hair at the nape of his neck to kiss him again. “Really. Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, baby.” He kissed you again and then sealed it with another quick peck before using his grip on your hips to turn you back towards the mirror. “Now tell me you don’t love the shoes. I know you can’t.”

It was store after store of shopping. You tried to keep things concise to the list you brought of things you wanted to get, but just like the Prada shoes… and bag… and sunglasses, you were both easily distracted. You had more fun dressing Harry up more than anything. Seeing him try on complete outfits you picked out for him just hit the spot for you. You loved it.

And it had nothing to do with him looking absolutely delicious in every fucking thing. You picked out a bit of a joke outfit in one of the ‘younger’ stores as Harry liked to call it, styling him in something more skater boy than his usual refined, delicious European style and he still looked hot as anything. 

Harry hated it of course, but he did like the graphic t-shirt and managed to style it in his own way with the pair of dress pants he had on. God, he was just so fucking hot. By the third men's store you brought him into, you were sweating. You couldn’t explain why it was such a turn-on to watch him open and close a curtain and show off different outfits or why a linen button-up much like everything else he has riled you up until you were clenching your thighs, but it just did. 

You finally truly understood why he liked buying you things so much. 

“Alright, last one then I need food. It’s practically dinner time and there’s a sushi train near here. I could demolish like twenty of those little plates.” Harry chuckled to himself and opened the door of the fitting room he was in. Upon revealing himself, your mouth properly dropped. 

It was another button-up style top but this time it was entirely made out of white crochet squares. The design was fine and perfect beyond perfect and had so many little holes throughout the design, that you could see slivers of skin everywhere. Then there was the obvious sliver of skin. The top three undone buttons that Harry had purposefully left open to expose his cross necklace and littered chest hairs. The tails of his swallows were peaking past the edges and with particular movements, the moth became more visible.

Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Not sure about this one, love. ‘Dunno why.” Harry ran his hands down the fabric, looking at his shirt until he realised you hadn’t said anything. “Y/n?” 

Seeing the look at your face, Harry could see exactly what your opinion was on his shirt. 

“I love it.” You finally said, walking towards him so you could feel the soft lace across his chest. He smirked and placed his hands on your waist. “It’s soft.”

Just the feeling of the soft lace against his warm body was driving you crazy. His body heat was radiating against your hands and you suddenly craved it against your body. All this talk about ‘study breaks’ and being in the same house as him for an entire week had your head in a spin. You couldn’t stop thinking about having constant sex and how tempting it would be to have so much privacy for so long.

And this was before you two were going to have an entire month together. God, the thought of that… your vagina would never be the same, you knew that for sure.

“Mh. Comfy too.” He commented, shivering when you dug your nails through the lace holes to scratch at his chest. “So y’like it?” Harry’s head cocked a little as the attraction in your eyes quickly started to reflect in his own. 

“Uhuh.”

You peeked around quickly to make sure you were alone and when the coast was clear you made the quick decision to walk him backwards back into the fitting room. Harry was happy to follow along with you, barely being able to ask what you were doing before you locked the door behind you and grabbed onto his face to kiss him.

Harry squeezed your waist and chuckled into your mouth, sighing softly against your lips while he kissed back. His arms started to wrap tightly around you and he was trying so hard to not moan at how eager you were pressing yourself against him and nibbling on his lip and tugging on his hair and fucking hell he was going dizzy. 

You weren’t one to start things like this and Harry was enjoying every fucking moment.

“What are you doing, darling? Hm?” Harry mused, eyes fluttering shut as you tugged his head back by his hair to gain easier access to his neck. His fingers dug deeper into the small of your back in an attempt to ground himself. He had to be quiet.

“I need your cock in my mouth,” You whispered against his skin while sliding your hand down his chest towards his dress pants. Harry tensed immediately beneath you, nearly groaning loudly when your hand landed on his cock. “Please, Daddy.” 

You started to palm over his half-hard cock which was very quickly hardening properly beneath your hand. Harry’s head tipped back against the wall and his jaw went slack. He could barely fucking believe what was happening right now.

What you were doing was reckless. Inappropriate and very much illegal. Giving head on a yacht in the open ocean didn’t exactly compare to giving head in a small enclosed fitting room where there were many more people around and any small noise would give you away.

To be honest though, you didn’t really give a fuck. You could tell Harry liked that.

You pulled back from his skin and made eye contact with him while squeezing him through his pants hard enough to make his eyes flutter. Reaching forward, you kissed him softly and spoke through soft kisses until he verbally agreed to have you on your knees before him. “Let me say thank you… please… I need it so bad, Daddy.”

Harry breathed heavily against your mouth and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck to tighten them in an almost warning way. “You’ve got to be quick, y/n. Unless you want to be caught.”

Something told you Harry wouldn’t have any issues being caught with his cock in your mouth. 

With a quick nod from Harry, you began the descent onto your knees. But before they even bent, he stopped you. “Wait.” He murmured, grabbing his expensive vest that was hanging on the back of the door and then folding it in half so it was thicker. “For your knees.” 

“I thought you liked it when they bruised.” You grinned, taking the vest nonetheless and putting it on the carpet in front of his feet. You slowly got down on your knees, looking back at the lock for a second just to double-check it was actually locked. It was thrilling to be in such a compromising position, but that didn’t mean you actually wanted someone to walk in on you two. 

“Only when I can take care of you after.” Harry sighed, the sight of you before him enough to make him breathless. He tried to relax against the wall separating your fitting room from the one next door. It thankfully went floor to ceiling, so you hoped that would muffle most of the noise. As much as you could try to keep quiet, Harry was quite terrible at it and it was hard to give a proper satisfying blowjob without making some sort of noise. 

Hopefully, the store’s music would cover it.

“You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn.” You looked up at him with a smile, sliding your hands over his thighs. He looked down at you, sliding his hand through your hair to push it back from your face so he could watch your facial expressions and every move you made. 

“You look so hot in this” You complimented, pushing his button-up top up his stomach to expose his belly button and below. “You better buy it.” you leaned forward and licked a stripe from the button of his pants to his belly button, making sure to do it once more while you undid his pants. 

“I will…” Harry assured, sighing out like a pretty angel just at the feeling of your mouth on his lower belly. “You like it so I have to buy it.”

“Mhmm. Y’gonna look so good, Daddy…” 

Harry’s pants easily fell to his ankles once the button came undone. They were straight-legged and with his tight briefs pressing his cock down, they slid right down. Of course, the briefs didn’t last very long either and they soon joined Harry’s pants at his ankles.

You had no time to tease or kiss every inch of exposed skin like you wanted to. This had to be quick which was a shame when he looked so fucking hot standing there naked aside from the pretty lace button-up you wanted to keep on him. It was like sexy lingerie and it messed with your head much more than you would’ve liked. 

“I only look good for you, darling. You’re the only one I want to… shit…” 

Harry couldn’t even finish his words, not when you spat on your hand, wrapped it around him and brought him to your mouth without any fucking warning. You jerked him slowly with your hand, focusing on the base while you slid his head against your tongue. His hips bucked against your mouth at the feeling, causing you to choke a little on his cock and force yourself to pull back from him. 

“You’ve got to relax.” You licked your tongue slowly against his slit, savouring the taste of his precum. You made a show of it too and closed your eyes to hum gently once it collected on your tongue. “As much as I love choking on your cock, it’s too loud.” 

You were almost scolding him, reprimanding him for not being good and staying pressed against the wall. It was reminiscent of the first time you figured out you loved him, not that Harry knew it like that. Harry remembered the first shower blowjob he got from you as a bold move, not the craving for control that you desperately wanted at the time.

Now… you’d give up any and all control to Harry, knowing that you were really the one in charge. That’s how you two worked. You both had your limits and while Harry hadn’t really pushed them to the limits very often, he had the power to do so because you gave it to him.

And how he was putty in your hands. 

“Don’t think I won’t get you back for this…” he shuddered, fisting your hair tighter when you brought him back into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him perfectly. All you did was smile around his cock while pressing the vein underneath his length back and forth on your tongue. 

You were looking forward to the payback. 

The longer you had him in your mouth, the less you started to care about how loud you were being. Harry was doing well to keep still, albeit practically trembling against you, but his hands were tugging on your hair roughly and he couldn’t stop the string of curses in place of loud moans he wanted make for you. 

There was just nothing like the sound of male pleasure. Deep, guttural groans and whimpers, hushed lines of praise and degradation and pleads of your name. A loud curse when you clenched around him or a whimpered one when you swallowed around him like you were doing now. 

Your hand was still wrapped around his base, fingers reached further back to press against his frenulum and apply pressure to his balls at the same time. You kept moving your mouth quickly and sloppily over his tip, swirling your tongue around his head where he was most sensitive.

“Jesus fucking Christ, y/n. God… your mouth.” 

It was borderline blasphemy the way he used God’s name. The way he cursed and moaned it out because you were giving him one of the most insane blowjobs of his entire life. There was pleasure in all types of blowjob, but there was nothing quite toe-curling like having his tip sucked and flicked at so fucking harshly. Harry almost felt like he needed to squeal like a little girl.

And you were eating it up. Literally. 

Sucking Harry off just turned you on to level 100. There was something about the shape of his cock… the weight of it on your tongue… his scent and soft skin, the way he was so incredibly hard for you and yet so sensitive and dainty at the same time. All of it. Add the dirty talk and the hair pulling and his nails scratching at your head like he wanted to force your head closer so you’d choke on him and you were practically a puddle in your jeans.

You wanted to touch yourself. To just dip your fingers in your underwear and touch the pain away. Just a little.

“Can I touch myself, Daddy? I’ll be quick, I promise.” You whispered, pulling off him to speak and catch your breath while you continued jerking him off. 

Even on your knees with all the power in this situation, you still asked permission to touch yourself. Harry had to force his mind elsewhere to not prematurely cum all over your nice outfit. 

“Do it. Make yourself cum f’me, baby. You’ve been sucking me so fucking good.” He praised, rubbing his thumb over your messy mouth. Your once perfect lipliner was all smudged now, leaving behind your pretty swollen lips for Harry to trace. He had a sudden craving to kiss you silly, but with your manicured fingers wrapped around him, his cock’s craving was stronger. Hungrier. 

You nodded, bringing his cock to your mouth and bopping against it while you undid your jeans so you could slide your hand into your underwear. It was like instant relief the moment your fingers met your clit. You were soaked and slippery and so fucking horny you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to finish yourself off. 

Harry was close too. You could tell by his heavier breathing and the slight twitching in his cock. You kept your lips wrapped around his tip and focused your attention there while you used one hand on his balls and the other to touch yourself. 

The closer both of you got to finishing, the louder your noises became. You tried so hard to hide it, to keep your noises reduced to a sigh especially when you could hear people talking all around you, but it was pretty damn hard. Your one saving grace was the music echoing through the speakers, but you were getting so lost in the pleasure you didn’t know or care whether it was loud enough to cover what you two were doing.

“Shit, y/n. ‘M close. ‘M getting so close…” 

Keeping your lips wrapped around him, you took his warning as a sign to jerk him faster and time your own circles on your clit with every movement you made on his cock. And it wasn’t long after his warning when you felt his whole body tremble against you. His thighs tensed and his abs clenched, his fingers stilled in your hair.

Harry had to bite down on his own fist to try and muffle the noise he let out when he finally came in your mouth, letting ribbons and ribbons of cum fill your throat until you had to swallow to make more room. He wanted to watch you take all of it and make yourself finish, but he could barely stand up straight let alone keep his eyes open to see the way you shook and squeezed your eyes shut when your own orgasm rushed over you. 

When he nudged your head away due to sensitivity, you both seemed to collapse in your own positions to try and calm down from your highs. Your head tilted against his thigh and you just sat there for a moment collecting yourself before deciding to redress Harry. You two had been in the dressing room for way too long now and the post-orgasm clarity was starting to make you freak out about what you had just done.

You only got his button done up before Harry was picking you up off the floor and drawing you in for a heated kiss.

“God I fucking love you.” He murmured, kissing you over and over again while you giggled into his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, poking his chest. “We should do that again sometime.” You breathed through a laugh while zipping up his pants for him. You were a little in disbelief at what just happened. 

“We should,” Harry smirked, reaching between you to zip up your jeans and do the button for you. “Though next time it’ll be you trying to keep quiet and we both know you have a harder time keeping your noises to yourself.”

“That’s so not true!” you scoffed, turning to the mirror so you could fix your hair. “I can keep completely silent thank you very much,” you couldn’t, not when you were with Harry anyway. 

“You’re such a liar.” He laughed, shaking his head while taking the lace shirt off so he could put his own clothes back on. You watched him through the mirror, still overly horny and unsatisfied. Seeing his bare chest just made you want his cock in your mouth again. Or better and far more satisfying, inside you. “I can very easily prove you wrong though, I hope you know that.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes and then without any warning felt Harry press his chest into your back while he wrapped his hand around your neck. Your eyes widened and you felt your head go dizzy when he applied pressure just in the right spots. 

“I’ve been very generous to you today, baby, and while having my cock in y’mouth is a very nice thank you, I don’t think it warrants attitude, does it?” he murmured, making eye contact with you in the mirror while running his nose up the length of your neck. 

Fuck me. 

God, you wished he would. 

You swallowed thickly, a little overwhelmed at how dominant he became in a flash. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have him so in control and so powerful. Since you got together he had been so soft and loving. The parts of him that would correct you and reprimand you when you broke eye contact or showed a hint of attitude had significantly softened. They hadn’t disappeared altogether, your sex and your life together was still playful and Harry was most definitely in charge, but with your lives being so busy and having so many things to work through, it was clear to both of you that things had changed. 

You just hadn’t really spoken about it. 

But you didn’t want to forget. You didn’t want Harry to think that he couldn’t push boundaries anymore or be rough with you just because you two were in a relationship. In the beginning you knew he didn’t want to overstep because things were so emotionally raw still, but now that things were good between you two… 

You put it down to not having time, which was a big part of the problem. Still, you missed it.

“N-no…” You breathed, sliding your hand to cover the one he had around your neck, “No, it doesn’t.”

“Exactly. So?” He prompted with a raised brow, caressing his fingers up and down the sides of your neck with little pressure. 

“‘M sorry, Daddy.” 

The title slipped out easily, naturally. It was never going to be part of your lives 24/7 because that wasn’t your dynamic, but you two were clearly still playing and you were still in the high of sucking him off. It was just so easy to let go of all thoughts and issues when he took control like this. 

“Good girl, angel.” He smiled, manoeuvring your face to the side so he could kiss you and look at you directly. You savoured the kiss, craving that closeness even when he pulled away to run his thumb over your lips. “Are you still hungry?”

You nodded. “Very.”

“Good.” His eyes softened and he couldn’t resist kissing you again. “Wait outside then, okay? I’ll get dressed then we’ll drop our bags to the car and go get dinner.” 

“Okay.” You nodded again, wanting nothing more than to just cling to him and never let you go. Still, you did what he asked and cautiously slipped out of the room, thankful that the one person standing out there paid no attention to you or even Harry when he exited his fitting room a minute later.

It was decided during your dinner together that you’d go back with Harry to his house. After spending such a nice day together, you didn’t really want to go home. You knew you should’ve, especially since you still had one assignment to go before you could focus on studying for your exams, but you knew that you wouldn’t get anything done after the week you’ve had whether you were with Harry or without him.

And you’d much rather be with him. 

When you got to his home, you wanted to try everything on again just to make sure you liked what you got in case you changed your mind. Fitting room mirrors can give you the best or worst confidence in the world and you always need to see things in your own house (or Harry’s in this case) to make a final decision. While Harry didn’t quite understand your logic, he was happy to sit in his nice armchair and watch you try everything on for him. 

Harry found it quite adorable the way you analysed yourself. The look of concentration and slight furrow in your brow as you observed yourself from every angle. Harry liked everything on you of course, but he quickly learnt you still needed to hear it from him at least three times before you believed it. 

“Okay, last one.” You declared, emerging from his walk-in closet where you just looked at the dress for a solid three minutes before wanting Harry’s opinion. 

“It’s gorgeous. I love the colour on you.” Harry beamed, fingers laced together with his elbows resting on his parted knees. He scanned your body, thinking that this one was possibly his favourite dress of the day. “Makes your bum look great.”

“Stop.” You scoffed, laughing while looking back in the mirror. You were able to see it from the doorway of his walk-in robe, which was handy. “Seriously, though. You don’t think it washes me out?”

“No. I think it suits you perfectly. It’s different from other dresses you have too.” 

You didn’t quite understand how Harry had the patience to sit through a haul like this. Your dad never did, even when you forced him to at least pretend to be interested and yet Harry acted like every outfit was the newest, greatest thing he had ever seen. If it were even possible, you loved him more for it. 

“That’s what I was thinking. I wanted a few things that are a bit more unique, y’know? Even though I’ll probably end up wearing the same things all the time anyway.” You laughed to yourself, eyes focused on the dress. You tilted your body side to side, watching how the fabric flowed around you. “So you definitely like it?”

Barely a minute after his second assurance and you needed another. Harry would happily tell you how beautiful you are a million times if that made you happy. 

“Yes.” Harry nodded, “1000%”

“1000% huh?” You grinned at him. He nodded with an equally happy smile. “Okay then. I’m satisfied with my purchases now and I feel justified.” You announced it like you were proud of the outcome, even though you didn’t buy a single item of anything that you tried on for Harry. He fucking loved it though. If you ordered him to buy you a new car or a $20,000 bag he’d do so in a heartbeat then need to fuck you because of how much it turned him on.

“Good.” Harry laughed, sitting back in his chair. “C’mere, baby.” He motioned you over to him, letting you step between his parted before he wrapped his arms around your hips. You smiled down at him, slinging your arms around his neck.

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” He smiled, hugging you closer to him. “Are you feeling better after this morning?”

Your smile faltered and suddenly the happiness you got from your little shopping spree disappeared into thin air. It was nothing but a quick distraction, easily ruined by a reality check. You couldn’t blame Harry though. All he did was check in on you.

You nodded and started twirling the hair at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “Yeah… it was nice to have the distraction. There’s just been so much shit going on at the moment and I feel like I haven’t breathed properly for weeks. I just want to have a clear head for once, y’know? Just not think about anything.” you sighed, looking down for a moment.

“I can help with that,” Harry said softly, tilting your head up with his index finger so you were forced to look at him. “You know that right, y/n? I can give you anything you want…” his voice dropped an octave and you were instantly aware that he wasn’t offering a listening ear. Your breath hitched and your body completely tensed up in his arms, “...anything you need.” 

“I know…” you whispered, unable to look anywhere except right into his darkening gaze.

“So let me…” he urged, “Do you want me to clear your head for you?...” he scanned your face, sliding the tip of his index finger from your chin down to trace along your neck. It was a trail of fire. Just the path of his fingertip was making you need to claw out of your own skin and he had barely touched you. It felt like he hadn’t properly touched you for weeks. “To take away all your stress and your thoughts… let you be completely relaxed?”

You were practically trembling in his touch. One hand was squeezing your waist and the other was trailing patterns over your neck and your collarbones, down to the modest neckline of your dress. You were dying. 

“I can take full control if you want me to, y/n. You just have to say the word.” He flattened his palm against your neck, making you flutter your eyes closed as he enclosed his hand around it. He applied no pressure, just a loose hold to show you what he could do to you. For you. “I can be Harry or Daddy… whatever you need. Anything you need.”

The way his mouth moved at the two clear syllables of ‘Daddy’ had you sweating. He was giving you every choice, every option so that he knew exactly what you needed and wanted. So that he could take the reigns and let you sink into your submissive bliss. 

You needed that more than anything else in the entire world.

“I…” your words faltered, even as you forced yourself to look at him. “I need you, Daddy. Please.”

Harry nodded, scanning your face once more as the side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in the softest smile he could muster. “I love you and I’m so proud of you for everything you’re achieving, y/n. It takes a lot of strength and endurance to be as strong as you have been.” Now it was your heart that was trembling. “Now let me do it for you. You’re gonna be a good girl for me, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes-yes, thank you.” You nodded eagerly, wanting to sink into his arms so he could take the weight off your feet for you. If he could walk for you, you would’ve let him. 

“Good. I want to take you back to Pleasing.”

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@onlyangellucifer @youcan-nolonger-run @gotdrxnkonu @cheappackofcigerattes @idrawshapesonpeople07

@straightontilmornin @mellamolayla @stilesissaved @ribbonknives @scndsofsummer

@floral-recs @styles.sturniolo @maryjahps @babyfratelli7 @voniikg

@complikyfreak @tswiftsgf @triski73 @michellekstyles @freedomfireflies @tiredinwinter @butdaddyilovehim-hs

*please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged ❤️*

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! 🤍

Patreon

[onekisstotakewithme]

20 questions for fic writers 💜

tagged by the lovely @mihrsuri (I think more than once, although the other time was some time ago... thank you for the tag! 🥰💜)

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 221, not counting unrevealed ones from exchanges

2. what's your total ao3 word count? 1,417,178 words

3. what fandoms do you write for? Right now, mostly M*A*S*H and The West Wing, though I do occasionally dabble in other fandoms (Star Trek TOS, For All Mankind, etc.)

4. top five fics by kudos? 1) Ties That Bind - Star Trek (Spirk) 2) a wild call and a clear call (that may not be denied) - Star Trek (Spirk) 3) Uncharted Territory - M*A*S*H (Beejhawk) 4) ye who are weary, come home - M*A*S*H (Punnihawk, Charles/Donna, canon pairings, etc.) 5) you were meant for me - M*A*S*H (Punnihawk)

5. do you respond to comments? Not usually. I feel pretty guilty about it and I do try and go for a thank you note in the A/N at the end of each story/chapter, but my spoons are pretty limited. I do however cherish each and every comment, and if I have regular commenters, your username is probably carved into my heart. 🥺

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Uhhh. That is a good question, because even if I write in angsty/bittersweet scenes, the endings are usually more hopeful or happy.

I guess my best answer to that is "let's do some living (after we die)" only because it's immediately followed by canonical character death. lmao.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? There are any number of stories you could pick for this one, haha. But I guess if I had to pick (twist my arm, why don't you!), then it's probably either "ye who are weary, come home" (OT3 Endgame!!!), OR "Make the Leap" (this one takes place on January 21st, 2007, so that and the title should make it self explanatory 😉)

8. do you get hate on fic? Not... really? Sometimes I'd get comments complaining that I should be writing a different pairing 🤷🏻‍♀️ (which..???) but I don't get much "engagement" to begin with usually, so I'm grateful that what I do get is for the most part positive. 🥰

9. do you write smut? Yep. Nothing super hardcore and not very often (because I am a self-conscious girlie haha) but I will write it. Posting it is another story. I want to do more, it's just getting over myself to do it. (if anyone has advice on how to proceed with getting over my self-consciousness, I'm ALL ears).

10. craziest cross over? I once, in my misspent youth, wrote a crossover between Downton Abbey and Titanic (it's still buried in the depths of my FFN page, alas it is unfinished.)

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know, no.

12. have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! My one M*A*S*H Fic, "Here's Hoping We Meet Now and Then" (aka BJ puts the "GOODBYE" stones together with the help of the rest of the 4077) was translated into German by a dear friend of mine, Pat. And you can read that here.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? A few times in the distant past. Once recently (I'm sure you'll all see it soon enough!!) 😈... in general, I love the idea of getting to write with my fellow ficcers whom I cherish and admire, so I'd love to do more co-written fics.

14. all time favorite ship? I'm not picking one lmao. But if I had to? Probably CJ/Danny. They had everything. the chemistry. the will they/won't they. the yearnnnning. (Close runners-up are BJ/Peg/Hawkeye, Anna/Bates, Spirk... and Kate/Gibbs because I don't forget my roots).

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Triad Wedding. 😬 I got kinda burnt out and (at the time I finished it) went "eh no one will want to read this anyway" so now I have a 125k MASH draft on my desktop. It has... well, everything. Bisexual OT3 wedding. Mucho smut (more than I've ever published in one story before in my LIFE). Communication ✨. etc. It's been two years now, so even though there's a full draft, I don't want to promise that it'll ever be done. It needs a lot of work.

16. what are your writing strengths? Dialogue. I used to be terrified of writing dialogue, and now I think I'm decent at it. Staying in character, maybe?

17. what are your writing weaknesses? Pacing! Ask me why the 125k draft mentioned above is only seven days of in-universe time.

Also I could be better at worldbuilding. I know many authors who flesh out the whole universe and make it feel so breathable and lived in (Mia for example, she's a champ at that!) but that's still a work in progress for me. AND smut. I need to get better/more confident at that, but I've yet to learn how after six-odd years of writing it. 😐

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't speak enough languages for that. Other authors can do it and do it convincingly. Not me tho.

19. first fandom you wrote in? Lost (baby's first fanfic, still buried in the depths of my FFN page); but I really got into it with Downton Abbey.

20. favorite fic you've written? I could give one of my usual answers about "ye who are weary" (because of the technical achievement of covering so many characters in one story), or "Don't Bet Your Future" (probably my MOST self-indulgent) but instead...

I really enjoyed writing "None of Us Are More Than Caretakers", guys. The season 7 secret relationship is one of my favourite time periods to cover for CJ and Danny, and getting to write this little "missing episode" between Last Hurrah and Institutional Memory was so much fun, and a great technical challenge. Plus it WAS self-indulgent because I got to write all the post-coital scenes we were robbed of in canon AND build up to the events of IM.

thank you again!!! and I'll tag whoever is interested and has a few free hours to kill! 💜✨

[mango-jpeg]

amateur

i forgot how wonderful it is to post in small fandoms like yes.... this niche is just big enough for two <3

began writing around the end of august and just dropped every other wip to focus all my attention on writing this very slowly. it was kind of nostalgic.. when i started writing fic again in 2020 i’d only write one thing at a time and each work took me 6-8 weeks to finish while i reread the finished bits over and over for my own enjoyment which is 100% what happened this time around

really enjoyed describing locations in detail - something i usually skim over. sometimes.. incorporating gameplay can be fun

writing oneshots is 30% ecstatic scrawling down ideas and lines, 30% having a great time revising sections and mulling over lines, and the rest % suffering over tricky boring stuff (ie. transition between conversations or locations, time passing, kissing)

related note i think i hate the word 'that'

as is classic me, this began with a lighthearted idea about what being date’s drinking buddy entails (horrible drunk hookups) but things rapidly got out of hand ..

also originally wanted to write a limo bj scene bc What is the point of that limo if not to get sloppy in the back. but it ended up not quite fitting :(

lately i've really been into how the skin on your jaw/throat loosens as you age (pls read that in a douchey hipster voice thx) so i wanted to include that detail for date but.. he's only in his 40s.... sigh

extreme recency bias but i think this is tied with some fantastic for fav fics this year

reading:

you think it, i’ll say it and Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld

by the still waters

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

listening:

new mitski album!!! yahooo!!!!!

songs for ryuki: it's only sex (car seat headrest), bug like an angel and i don't like my mind (mitski)

songs for date: the girl from ipanema

title from the line ‘amateur mistake’ in bug like an angel.. a little for its association with incompetence a little for its root as ‘lover’

[carnalapples]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks so much @rowanisawriter for the tag!!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

11

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

70,667

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Dragon Age, Mass Effect, a few Indian movies, and the list will be growing lol

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

rivers of bitter certainty

those who are in favour with their stars 

a desperate light that since has died 

a heart that laughter has made sweet 

a rose by any other name 

5. do you respond to comments?

Always! They make my day

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

gold dust woman - Dragon Age, Branka/Hespith, very proud of this one

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

a rose by any other name - which is also my fluffiest fic in general! again Dragon Age, Cullen/Adaar

8. do you get hate on fics?

not yet 😎

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I suppose so, not often on its own but usually as part of the plot... character study through the bj 💀

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't written any crossovers yet!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No! I really like the idea, but I'm a bit worried because I write so sporadically when I get bursts of energy that I'm not sure if I'd make a great writing partner, haha

14. what’s your all-time favorite ship?

Ahh, I just love Romance, so I don't know if I can pick a favorite, but Katniss and Peeta from The Hunger Games are who got me into fandom, and they're who I always return to when I'm truly feeling discouraged. Most ships I've written for are a favorite for some facet of them.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have an AC3 AU fic just. Lingering on the hard drive. I do hope to finish this one eventually, but it keeps threatening to be longer and more convoluted than I expected.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I think describing emotion/character dynamics. I get really proud when I figure out the sort of dynamic I want to focus on, and then I can shape the fic around that. I also tend to like my dialogue, especially when I make myself laugh with something kind of cheesy.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Definitely plot: I love focusing on characters, and as a result I do not develop plot as much as I'd like to. I think I tend to drag out scenes and sometimes I feel like I'm forcing it to lengthen the story or create some kind of action. I also really like including boring details and when I go back and edit I struggle to keep what's relevant, lol.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Even if characters are talking in another language, I usually write in English except for a few words that don't translate well. I was trying to think of situations where I'd write full dialogue in another language and they were all very specific: maybe if it's an important part of the setting or a character's internal conflict. So I guess in those cases I would if I either knew the language well or could ask someone about context, etc. (This actually reminds me of another WIP I don't know if I'll finish, lol.)

19. first fandom you wrote for?

I think The Hunger Games, but I never posted any of it. So many talented people in that fandom!!

20. favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Again, probably the care and feeding of lovebirds! It’s such a comfort movie + fic, and I guess that shows in how quickly I wrote it haha. But going back to that one is soothing for me, and I do have more DDLJ fic in the works.

I'll tag anyone who wants to share!!

[seefasters]

Regina spektor anon back at it again: the bj stuff w period of adjustment made me fucking crazy. The jealousy stuff, the jealousy stuff!! i had been so appalled and fascinated by how angry and dismissive bj was being about his own struggles in relation to others'. The stuff where he directly frames his absence from his family as uniquely worse than hawkeye's father. That seemed so unconscionably cruel. (Yet there is a way that he is a little bit right, cus he *is* missing crucial developmental stages in his daughter's life!!! He's very much in the wrong, but he is *just* right enough for u to get where he's coming from) Even more jarring was how physically volatile bj was being- something about punching hawkeye felt like such a crossed line. to me it felt like: theres no world where hawkeye punches back. He just lies there. It took really good, careful writing/acting to make someone behave as out of line as bj did and still come off as sympathetic. Mike Farrell really killed it, the monologue about how the first time erin called someone daddy it wasnt BJ.....

i rlly love bj, hes not necessarily my favorite character (Margaret Houlihan Nation rise), but he is probs the one i relate to the most. Hes an overachiever who is interpersonally easygoing and very invested in being *helpful* and behaving with integrity so he very capably plays emotional support while deferring his own needs perpetually. And he struggles a lot with envy, with an anxiety regarding missing out and running out of time. That line about being "so torn up with envy i almost hate him." re: radar and trapper slapped me in the face cus its a feeling i am so familiar with.

All of that repressed resentment and rage bubbles over in such a potently ugly way here, and i think it is so ugly *because* bj is usually such an easygoing yet morally upright guy. He is so invested in that version of himself that he refuses to deal with his own anger. Hawkeye, Margaret, and BJ are all Very repressed workaholics but in wildly different ways. Margaret allows herself to be snappish, overdisciplined, and aggressive. hawkeye turns everything into a joke and capitulates to bitter, cynical nihilism. BJ is too invested in his self image of casual kindness and morality to do either so consequently he has no outlet whatsoever- he just unexpectly explodes with rage every so often.

Also i was sort of curious about what you thought of this in relation to trapper actually. Like how bj differs as a friend to hawkeye, especially in this instance. Cus if i remember correctly trapper punched hawkeye in the face and it was sort of over the same thing! Trapper wanted to defect and a reason he gave is that he wanted to see his daughters. And that punch in the face was also harrowing, but the episodes/scenes in questjon play v differently while relating to eachother in fascinating ways. (Again heres an instance of hawkeyes closest companion visiting physical violence on him- violence that i dont think hawk would ever reciprocate)

I was curious of your thoughts.

hiiii!!

the trapper situation is slightly different in that a) he hits him with a duffel bag, not with his fist. still bad but probably hurts less and b) hawkeye does try to stop him and warns that he "doesn't want to use violence" which is like. he probably shouldve seen that coming. but tbh to me the trapper situation being played mostly for laughs and then dropped is just by virtue of it being in an early season. 1-3 had drama, but not like That. maybe if wayne rogers had stayed he'd get his own period of adjustment

in-universe though, i think that hawkeye was hit (and literally shoved aside) by both of his best friends because they wanted to return home that badly must've stung. because - yes, everyone wants to go home - but at some point its like is it the war or is it me lol. the man has enough abandonment issues as it is

i totally agree with your bj analysis! yes, bj is being a dick, but he's being a dick in such a natural way in this situation. it is so easy to forget that other people are suffering too when you're this disconnected from everything you've known

i think the core difference between hawkeye, margaret and bj is that margaret was born in the army and doesn't really have a civilian life to get back to, and hawkeye admitted to himself a long time ago that the war changed him and he's never going to be able to wash that off. but bj clings to his civilian life more than anyone in the 4077th (except maybe klinger - but he has different ways of showing it) and he refuses to even consider that the war could change him or his life. so when reality inevitably comes crashing down, he lashes out at people around him

[popcornandgreenolives]

The Amazing Spider-Man 2

Movie Review (2014)

I had originally seen this movie in a theatre (!!) when it first came out (seriously can't believe that was TEN years ago!), and since then usually caught bits and pieces here and there whenever it was on TV. It wasn’t until last weekend that I had actually taken the time to watch it in its entirety again for the first time in a LONG time. 

Watching this movie again got me digging back into my movie review archive. I have been known to have opinions that have evolved through multiple rewatches of things, so I get curious to see what I had initially written about them. But I was kind of surprised (and confused, honestly) that I had actually never posted anything about The Amazing Spider-Man 2 - which is really weird because I swear I remember writing about it.

Anyway here is my super belated review because better late than never, right?

I guess I will start out with my overall thoughts, which also happen to mostly be the things I didn’t like.

First off, the story as a whole felt chaotic. They went a bit overkill with the villains and there was just too many concurrent storylines going at once, which resulted in less-than satisfactory payoffs for each of them individually. From the beginning, Electro seemed like main villain of the movie, yet his story seemed to end abruptly to make room for the conclusion of The Green Goblin.  Meanwhile Harry seemed to have a slow buildup throughout the film and then suddenly became a big deal villain only towards the end. And then there was Rhino who popped up here and there. I thought that they should have kept the focus of this sequel on Electro (see 'random tidbits' below), while also introducing Harry Osborne and building a foundation to establish that he was indeed one of Peter's 'best friends'. And then they could have devoted the next installment to The Green Goblin’s villain arc. However of course, now in retrospect we know that there never ended up being a part 3, so maybe it was a case of just trying to cram as much as possible into this one.

Okay, now for the things I liked. 

Something I noticed and appreciated more during this rewatch was the relationship between Peter and Aunt May. I really liked that there was a more noticeable mother-son dynamic in this film, and that you could see from the things she did (working hard to put herself through nursing school so that she could support Peter) and said (“You’re my boy”) that showed how much she loved him like a son despite not being his actual mother. I also loved (LOVED) any and all scenes with Peter/Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy. I know that Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone were dating at the time, which I suppose helps… but they had such amazing chemistry that was really apparent on screen and made me so invested in them as a couple. I don’t have a lot - if any? - of celebrity couples that I ‘ship’ (do people still say that??)  but they were seriously SO freaken cute, I love(d) them sososo much (RIP StoneField!! ☹).  And while I hated the fact that Gwen had to die in this movie, I do think that her death scene was so tragically and (cinematically) beautifully done at the same time.

Other random thoughts:

I had forgotten that BJ Novak was in this movie.

Why was Gwen applying for scholarships and being accepted into college after graduation?

I can’t tell if Aunt May knew or suspected that Peter was in fact Spider-Man. It seemed as though she was heavily hinting that she knew his secret at times, however I know in comicbook-land, characters are often surprisingly oblivious to the obvious (eg. Lois Lane not knowing that Clark Kent was Superman for the longest time).

Random tidbits I found out on the internet while Googling during commercial breaks:

The international title for the movie was The Amazing Spider-Man 2: Rise of Electro, which makes me think that the original intent was that he would be the main villain of the movie. (source)

When Gwen Stacy passed away in this movie, the time on the clock tower struck 1:21. This is in reference to issue #121 from The Amazing Spider-Man comic book series entitled "The Night Gwen Stacy Died" (also known as "The Green Goblin's Last Stand"). (source)

Andrew Garfield avoided Emma Stone for a week to prepare for Gwen's death scene. He is ~so~ method. (source)

Final Thoughts:

The reason for this revisit and belated movie review are due to the fact that The Amazing Spider-Man movies were on TV last weekend and I had unintentionally gotten sucked into watching them. Both of them. In their entirety. Commercials and all. I don't know why I did this, especially considering I have access to both of these movies on iTunes – commercial free.

I had re-read my original review of the first Amazing Spider-Man movie, and it mostly holds up - I still love that movie. However this second movie was just alright. It had its moments, but overall - especially plotwise - it was sub-par to the original. 

But you know what? Even though I had spent a crazy amount of time watching the with-commercial versions of these films, I don't regret it. It was fun. It made me feel happy and nostalgic :)

[thebreakfastgenie]

11, 24, 48, and 57 for the fic asks!

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

I write in order! I've tried both ways, but I find writing in order helps me. It gives the narrative a natural flow, I guess? Plus I usually have certain scenes worked out first and I use them as waypoints to write to. I make exceptions if I know I don't have time/energy to get o a particular scene in that writing session and I'm worried I'll forget it. I also do sometimes change the order while I'm writing or after. But for the most part I write in order. As I've been experimenting more with non-chronological writing it's gotten a bit more complicated and so far it's been a mix of writing in the order I want things to appear (when I have that worked out) and writing the events chronologically as they happen and then moving them around.

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

Whatever feels right! Sometimes it's very instinctual, other times it's hard. Usually I choose the POV character by who has an inner thought I desperately want to include, and it gets tricky if there is more than one. If you look at older fanfiction, it used to be common to change POV many times mid scene and I absolutely hate it. I do like to change up POV (I have very few fics that stick with one the entire time and they're all petty short) but I always do it with a scene change. When I wrote safe travels I had a really hard time deciding between Hawkeye and BJ POV for their big climactic talk, so I found a way to write a break into the middle so Hawkeye could have the first half and BJ could have the second. I also tend to be biased a bit by which characters I get because their POV comes easily to me. You will see a lot of Hawkeye POV and Josh Lyman POV from me. But sometimes writing someone I don't write often is a really fun challenge and I end up enjoying it more! The Potter POV in safe travels was some of the most fun I had writing it. And the first two BJ POV scenes. It was my first time writing his POV and I was nervous about it but I had a ball and of course he's been giving me trouble since then. I also try to keep a balance when I use multiple POVs. hills like white elephants was originally going to be more back-and-forth between Margaret and Hawkeye and when it ended up being almost entirely Margaret, I almost cut the one Hawkeye POV scene just because I didn't like having just one. It stayed because I thought that moment of Hawkeye wondering if BJ figured out what he did but not asking was worth it. I also take advantage of only having to know as much as the POV character knows, but that rarely determines which POV I use.

48. Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

This is surprisingly hard to answer. There are characters I write about the most, who are usually my favorite characters and the ones I feel most strongly and know the best. Those are Hawkeye for MASH and Josh for The West Wing. But I often find there are other characters I enjoy writing more, because I don't do it as much and it's different. So you could say it does change once I've written my faves a lot, I guess. Toby for The West Wing is in this category and for MASH it's probably Sidney.

57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?

It really depends. I'd say I'm fairly conscious--I'm certainly writing foreshadowing into ghost AU, and the Hamlet symbolism in the play's the thing was obviously intentional, but a lot of it happens by accident and becomes conscious partway through the process. For example, in Wonderful, there's a scene where they're scrabbling across the rocks and Hawkeye keeps getting further ahead because he's been doing this all his life. The growing distance between them on the rocks perfectly symbolizes the growing emotional distance as they get on with their lives, and even more than that, it shows Hawkeye in his element and BJ not quite fitting. I realized that after I wrote it, and I did tailor it at the point. I wrote the rocks scene because I grew up spending summers in Maine and I've been scrabbling across rocks as long as I can remember. Even as a relatively out of shape adult, it's instinctive, and I really noticed this when my best friend came to visit and I was leaving her in the dust. This is even an image I've applied to Hawkeye and BJ before because I think it's funny. It ended up creating a lovely little bit of symbolism. I am trying to be more conscious about symbolism and I'm really enjoying it, but somehow I think the best symbols are always going to be accidents.

[ladynestaarcheron]

The Rage

ao3

basically @that-golden-lyre and i have a daily conversation about how much we hate a/cosf and she was talking about the bj scene. and i was like yeah that should have been better. here is that, still a/cosf-y, but not as suckish. enjoy!

---

Cassian sits there, quiet, frowning, ignoring her. That's not it; he's not ignoring her, he's ignoring everything. He's upset. And does she really have the right to feel put out at this, when she has rejected him nearly every time he's spoken to her?

Nesta's mind conjures up images of his rejections of her, one by one. But that does not leave her feeling justified; only worse, and Cassian is still sitting here, staring at nothing, and the urge to bring him back to normal, to their usual dynamic--maybe even create the illusion that it isn't killing her to be alive--seizes her strongly, and she blurts out, "You should find a way to calm down."

Cassian doesn't even look up. "I just can't get Eris' smug face out of my head. I'll be fine tomo--"

"I could give you a massage."

Cassian looks up at the same time Nesta blinks, like they both can't believe what she's just said. Nesta's eyes flit across the room, as though searching for someone else who has spoken, but alas, it is her. She doesn't let her cheeks betray her, standing her ground and keeping her gaze cool.

"What?" he asks.

"To help you relax," she says, voice even. "It'll help rid the tension." She adds, to make the offer sound less absurd and more appealing, "I used to get them all the time to help me sleep. I learned how to do them, too." Lie and lie. But Elain would order them when they had money and Nesta watched her practice on Feyre. Nesta herself had never allowed it; she didn't want anyone touching her, pinching at her.

Cassian raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

At least he already seems less dejected.

"Yes." Then she says, "It's fine if you don't want to."

He grins. "Are you joking? Do you really think I'd turn this chance down?"

Relief hits her sharply, turning the air she breathes fresh and crisp, at the uptick in his mood, even though his smile does not reach his eyes. "All right," she says, and waves a hand at him.

When Elain had practice on Feyre, she had lain on a couch or bed. Cassian shrugs his shirt off, tossing it atop a chair, and leans forward on the table. "Careful of my wings, yeah?" he says, face on his crossed arms.

"Of course," Nesta says, pulse racing.

A small bottle of oil appears as she rises to stand over him. Right, Elain had used those.

Nesta takes a deep breath slowly, quietly, so as not to rouse suspicion. She pours a generous amount onto her hands, rubs them together, and carefully lowers her palms to his shoulders, laying them flat.

He hisses slightly, and she pulls her hands back. "What?"

"Nothing. You're hands are cold."

"Oh," Nesta says, reddening.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Now, of course, it is all she can think about. But she tries again, leaning over and holding her arms so that she does not touch his wings or the spot from which they protrude from his back. At his shoulders once more, Nesta grabs as much flesh as she can with her fingers and squeezes.

Cassian makes no sound. She continues.

She rubs her fingertips along his skin as she--hopefully--massages. Her hands move closer to his neck, to the spot that always holds the most tension for her, and press down hard. He hisses.

"Sorry," she says automatically.

"No, no," he says, eager. Eager. "That was good. Do that again. Please."

She does, and he makes another little hiss. Heat blooms in her cheeks, more pleased than embarrassed. Her fingers and arms tire quickly, but she tries not to let it hinder her movements, as his quiet, mumbled yeses and again, pleases make it worth it.

She keeps her hands near his neck, like he wants, but her eyes travel all around his back. His swirling tattoos, she sees, are made up of tiny flora and what she guesses is Illyrian writing. Her fingers itch to trace them. She digs them in harder, instead, to rid herself of the feeling. Cassian groans. It does not help her.

After a few minutes, Cassian lets out a sated, "All right." Though her arms ache terribly, it hurts even more to pull her hands away. She flinches at that thought; what a stupid thing to think.

He doesn't put his shirt on as he turns, standing, to look at her. He grins. "You know, I think you could throw a wicked punch."

"It's the rage," Nesta responds without thinking.

He laughs. "Well, maybe I should return the favor. Help release your tension."

Nesta takes a small step backwards. After their two--ah, trysts, she isn't sure what that means. Rather, she is sure what that means, she just isn't sure what it means.

That's not true either. She knows what it means. It means they both want each other and she still can't have him.

Cassian nudges her with his elbow. "You look like you'd need that now. Where'd you go?"

Nesta brings her face back up. "No where. I'm...glad you're feeling better."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if I didn't feel like I didn't leech you're good mood out of you."

"I wasn't in a good mood," she says. Why did she say that? "I mean, I wasn't in a bad mood. I...I'm tired--"

"Hang on," he says, raising his hands. Why won't he put his shirt on? "I don't want to be the prick who sat here feeling sorry for himself until you gave him a massage and then just left."

"I offered. And now I'm tired. Don't read too much into things."

"What do you like to do when you're upset?"

"Nothing. I'm not upset--"

"I can't believe I just asked you that," he interrupts, shaking his head. "I feel like a prick for not knowing. I should know that by now, right?"

Nesta doesn't answer. She can't think of a response.

"Can I say something? With no bullshit?"

Nesta bristles. That's what he always says to her. "Say whatever you want."

He chuckles, mirthless. "I've already set you off. I don't know what I did...look, we had--it was good, right? Before...and then again? In your room?"

Nesta freezes.

"And we obviously care about each other. Maybe we're not always speaking the same language but we know that, Nesta, don't we?"

He looks at her with wide, earnest eyes. Why does it always make her want to die when he looks at her that way? Why can't she just...be different? Better?

He doesn't continue. He won't until she says something, but she can't. So she nods, once, tightly.

He grins. "All right, good. I don't really know what we have to do...I don't know if we just start over or try and fix--well, I don't know. But maybe we can do that tomorrow. And tonight, will you...come with me to a show?"

Nesta blinks, but he hurries to explain.

"You told me the White Wolf was your favorite because of the music, right? So maybe you'd like a show?"

The horrible, bitter, viper in her stirs awake. She should have just gone to bed.

"No," she says, cold.

But he doesn't deflate and doesn't accept it. "Why not?"

The ache in Nesta's arms disappears. Her hands fist at her side and she feels ready to prove to him just how wicked a punch she can throw if pressed. "I'm not allowed in Velaris."

Cassian blinks. "What do you mean? Of course you are."

Nesta's jaw clenches. She wants to rage, to scream. "Because you allow it?"

"What do you--I was asking you! You can do whatever you want--"

"Don't you dare--you think I want to be here? You think I want to be training with you? You think I ever wanted to be taken to Illyria? How have you deluded--you threatened me!" she bursts out. "Being taken to the human world was a threat! I would be killed!"

As she says it, Nesta knows it's what she should have chosen. Better to die than live like this. And it doesn't matter that she deserves it, she doesn't care about what she deserves, she just wants it to stop.

"That was a bluff!" Cassian cries. "Come on, Nesta, you know that! That was just so you...so you could come without feeling like you were choosing to take care of yourself! Because you hate yourself so much that you can't even stomach doing one thing for yourself, even if it would save your life--"

"Don't talk to me about saving my life," Nesta cuts him off.

Cassian inhales and exhales deeply, closing his hands into fists and then opening them. When he speaks, he's calmer. "I know we have a long way to go. I know that there's a lot about you that I don't know. But you've once again proven that you are at your core someone who cares deeply for those she cares about. And it's hard..." Cassian closes his eyes and takes another deep breath before continuing. "It's hard to care about you when you...hate yourself so much that...that everytime we reach out you shut us down and punish yourself further. It's actually fucking terrifying, Nesta, all right? But I'm putting my foot down, I don't care what Rhys or Feyre say. We're doing something nice tonight. Something you'll enjoy."

All I want to do is scream.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Not taking no for an answer," he replies, stance and tone just as severe. "We can go to a show or the beach or fly around or a cooking class or any fucking thing in the world that isn't about you trying to punish yourself and just not think about all your pain for one night."

Nesta says, shaking with ire or something else, "Don't try to tell me--oof--"

For she is cut off when he crashes her towards him in a hug. "Pick something," he says over her head. "Or let me pick something." He squeezes her tighter, and it's--oh, gracious, she wants to weep at how much she craves this, but she can't, she can't have this--

His hands brush over the small of her back. Her eyelids flutter shut.

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend. His chest is still bare. This is a different world. He's the same, she's different. Alive, deserving. She can manage.

She keeps her eyes shut tightly. "Pick something," she hears herself say, slightly muffled. Regret chokes her after she speaks the words. She ignores it.

Cassian squeezes her tighter still. "We're going to a grotto."

"A--what?" She's heard the word before. Some sort of underwater cave?

"A grotto. It's beautiful. The moon rises right over it and it lights up the water. The fish reflect it. It's warm. It's beautiful, all right?"

Nesta's quiet for a minute. "All right."

---

Cassian is not supposed to confess his feelings for Nesta--or get close--or accuse her of being self-sabotaging. He's definitely not supposed to let her make him come and then return the favor in her bedroom, until they have a weird one-by-one game going on. But it's happened and he's sick of it. Not sick of Nesta; sick of minding everyone else's stupid rules. Nesta doesn't play by anyone else's rules, so why should he where she is considered? It's not as though Feyre has ever had a strong bond with Nesta--Mother knows Rhys has never given a shit about her personally--so why are the two of them in charge? When he and Nesta clearly have something so precious, so deep?

Not even Nesta's trauma will be getting in the way of this anymore. He can't sit around waiting for her to miraculously be cured. He's got to act. And she told him, inadvertently, that she was ready. Ready for him to help guide her in the right direction, to bring them that time and that second life he promised her. She had kissed him, let him pleasure her, sought ways to cheer him up. So what if Feyre has some specific idea of Nesta becoming some sort of warrior for the Night Court? He's always thought of her as a warrior of words; that was the first thing about her that attracted him.

Not an hour later, they find themselves along the western beaches of the Night Court, marching into a series of caves. Well, Cassian's marching, holding a determinedly-yet-hurriedly made picnic basket. Nesta's dragging herself behind him, their palms firmly clasped together. He won't let her go.

She tenses as they enter the darkness, and he taps his Siphon to let it glow and give them more light. "We're almost there," he tells her, but she says nothing.

He leads her to the grotto, not wasting any time and peeling off his clothes and boots, leaving them on the side of the water, and dives in.

Nesta is too far away from the edge for his liking when emerges. "Water's warm," he tells her.

She looks up to the hole in the ceiling of the cave. The moon isn't yet directly overhead, but the stars twinkle. She sighs, and bends to take off her shoes and roll down her stockings. Pulling her skirt up to her thighs, she lowers her legs into the water.

Cassian holds onto her knees. He could part her legs like this, kiss his way up her thighs, and recreate that perfect religious experience for himself. But now is not the time.

"Beautiful, right?" he asks her, jerking his head to the water.

She glances down at it, following the tiny silver-white fish. "Why are they all that color?"

"They're made for night."

She doesn't say anything, only watches the fish.

He tries again. "There are pearls down here."

"I'm not a strong swimmer."

"I am." He drops before she can reply, following along the underwater walls. They aren't proper pearls, he supposes, since they're embedded in the walls and not from clams, but that doesn't matter. He finds three easily and resurfaces, palm open.

"Pretty," Nesta says softly, picking one up.

He'd give anything to know what she's thinking. He's never envied Rhys so much as this moment.

He drops a kiss on her knee. "Look up. The moon's starting to rise."

She does, and he studies her. The elegant arch of her neck, the steady pulse there. Cassian aches for Nesta's heart--how hard must it be for the poor thing to keep beating, every second, when Nesta does everything she can to get it to stop? But Nesta's body knows what does not: she deserves to live. It fights even when she doesn't.

"Look down," he whispers, when the moon is whole over the roof.

She does, and lets out a small gasp. The water glows, shining like the discarded pearls, as the tiny fish reflect the moonlight back. Little silvery-white flames darting around the water.

"Like you," Cassian can't resist saying.

She meets his eyes, and indeed, that fire is there.

Cassian kisses her knee again. "Come in," he says.

She reaches her hand for his cheek, but before grazing it, she draws it back to take off her dress. In her underthings, she slides in the water, slowly, settling with her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm not a strong swimmer," she says again.

"I am," he repeats.

He treads water for the both of them, Nesta clutching him out of fear, perhaps, but not so horrid that it deters her from gazing around the pool. She lets one hand drop, following along the trail of some of the fish.

"Want to see something incredible? Underwater?"

She looks at him, frowning slightly. "I..."

"I won't let go of you," he promises. "Just for a moment. Just to see."

She hesitates, turning her head to the side. Glancing upwards at the moon, she nods, as she had before--once, slowly.

"All right," he says. "Just hold your breath. We'll go down on three." He counts, bobbing as he does. "One...two...three."

He hears Nesta take a deep breath before they submerge, and feels her fingers latch tightly onto him. He keeps his gaze on her as they go down, eager to see her reaction.

She doesn't disappoint. Beautiful grey eyes wide underwater, drinking in the sight. The glow of the fish is nothing short of magical, reflecting the moon and, underwater, bouncing it back towards the pearls.

"Whoa," she says, as he raises them to the surface.

He laughs. "Beautiful, right? Want to see it again?"

She nods, not hesitating this time. They go again. And again. And again.

The fourth time they emerge, Nesta says, "I wish I could stay down there for longer."

He knows she doesn't mean just a few seconds. "I don't. There's a lot of beautiful things in the world. I don't want just one with you."

She loosens her grip on him, but keeps their chests flushed. "What did Feyre and Rhysand say?"

Cassian doesn't break their gaze. "They have a very certain idea of how all this is supposed to go."

"All this being me."

"I don't care," he says, confirming but not dwelling. "They're wrong. I'm changing tactics."

"To?"

He picks his hand out of the water to gesture to them, around them. "We'll just focus on the good for now. There's plenty of time to deal with the pain. We will. I swear to gods we will, Nesta. But it's wrong to dictate what kind of joy you get to feel. And counterproductive, anyway. You're allowed to explore. To decide for yourself...I mean, I won't let you hurt yourself anymore. But if you don't want to heal with training--I mean, if that's not what you want, fine. Or just some of the time. Fine. And the library. Fine. It was a stupid bluff. I swear we didn't mean it. But it was stupid. You should...just because you've made some wrong choices doesn't mean you never get to decide anything for yourself again.

"I don't want to overwhelm you," he continues. She looks at him intently, considering his words carefully. "So we won't fix everything tonight. Or tomorrow. But we'll work on it. And we'll do that...however you want. As long as it's not something you're doing to punish yourself. And I hope you can understand why I don't fully trust you to be the judge of that for yourself...and I hope that you trust me to--to be that judge."

He holds his breath. More painful than being underwater, though Nesta, of course, provides far more beauty than anything under the sea.

"What if I choose something that we disagree on?" she asks finally.

"I hope you trust me," he says simply. "I won't make you come out if you want to be alone to rest, but I will if I think you're just going to berate yourself. Deny yourself happiness. I know you do that, Nesta."

"For how long?" she asks.

"For...as long as you want me."

Forever, he wants to say, for there isn't a deadline on this. There's no point where Nesta will be diagnosed "cured" and be allowed to do whatever she pleases whenever. She'll always struggle with this. Who knows what'll happen in the future to make her demons come roaring at her? So he'll be there. For all of it. So long as she lets him, he'll be there.

"And are my sister and Rhysand your judges?"

"They can say what they want," Cassian says. "I promise it won't affect me. I won't let it affect this."

She's quiet for a minute. Longer. She doesn't draw her arms away from him, but drops her gaze to the water.

Finally, she says, "You're asking for a lot."

He's so proud of her he thinks he might burst. Sharing with him, slowly, but real progress. More than anything Rhysand's stupid plan had wrought. Because this is meeting Nesta where she is, not forcing her along some path that might've worked for someone else.

"I know," he says. "But I meant what I said."

Under the water, he feels her legs touch his. Rising, dragging along him, they wrap around his waist. Nesta brings her hands to his face, leans in, and kisses him softly.

"You said we'd do something enjoyable tonight," she whispers, hands going to undo the laces of her underthings.

He moves them forward, pushing her against the wall of the cave. "Yes," he says.

They make quick work of themselves, their remaining clothes tossed onto the floor of the cave. Cassian kisses her deeply, slowly, hands firmly at her waist. Nesta allows herself more movement, trailing her fingers along his arms, his back, shoulders, his hair.

It is she who breaks their kiss first. "We can go slowly," she says, whispering.

"We'll stop," he affirms, but she shakes her head.

"No, I mean, yes. I trust you. We can go slowly. But I want...this." She presses a hand over his heart. "I need--I need--"

He kisses her chastely. "I understand," he says, for he does. He needs it too. "To feel you. To feel alive."

"Yes."

"And...you can feel it, can't you? How much I care about you? When I...?" He finishes his sentence not with a word, but with a kiss at her neck.

She exhales deeply. "Yes."

He bends his head towards her breasts, careful to keep his hands at her waist so she doesn't need to fear falling. She leans back as much as she can, resting her head on the floor of the cave. He kisses her skin softly, gently, ignoring his wild desire to learn every inch of her. There'll be time for that. They're going slowly tonight.

But Nesta can feel his desire very clearly against herself, and she presses into him. Bringing her hands up to his head, keeping his head pressed against her breasts as he leaves light kisses upon them, she whispers, "Can you feel it? How I..."

He raises his head. "Yes," he says, smiling at her. Her lips quirk, then with a huff of laughter, she smiles too.

It's all right if she's nervous. If there are things she wants to say and can't yet. They'll get there. But it doesn't have to be a painful journey.

"Come here," he says, squeezing her waist, and she lifts herself back up, hands wrapping tightly around his shoulders. "Hold onto me," he says, though she already is.

"Yes," she says, clutching him tighter. "Yes," she says again, when he pushes gently at her leg with her palm to allow himself to slide into her.

Nesta's nails dig into his back.

"Slowly," he says to her.

She exhales through her nose. He inches inside her. Slowly, slowly, until they are one, leaning against the cave's wall and floor for support, the grotto's water shining around them. Something shines inside Cassian, too, stronger than the moonlight.

He holds onto her waist as he begins to move, and she tightens her grip as she does, too. Raising herself in small circles, the ripples of her movement crashing against Cassian's in little waves.

"I can feel it and I know you can too."

"I know, sweetheart," he says, and both of them are whispering, unable to disturb the perfection of the moment.

Nesta's perfect for him, and the part of him that is wild to have her, consume her completely, is very easily ignored by the part of him more concerned with this, now, their commitment, her trust, and building onwards. Slowly, slowly, like the way he moves inside of her.

"I've never," she says, gasping a little. "Oh, yes, oh."

For he has maneuvered them, pushing them harder against the wall, to allow himself movement of hand to slide in between them, in between her folds, and find her clit.

"Yes," she says again. "That."

He laughs. "That?"

"Yes."

She issues little commands here and there, and he is only too happy to oblige. Again, faster, just like that.

She comes as beautifully as she had last time, mouth parting and breasts heaving slightly. She tightens upon him, not stopping her movements as she does, and he follows her quickly after. When he pulls out of her, he is ready to pick her up out of the water and lay her on the ground, and make good of a safe, horizontal surface, but...slowly. That's what they want.

So he holds her close to him. There, in the water, as the moon moves towards the other half of the sky.

"What did you say?" he asks, remembering.

"Hm?"

He grins against her head, relishing in how deliriously peaceful she sounds. "You said you had never...something."

"Oh." She doesn't pull her face off his shoulder. "I...had never...enjoyed this. Before. With...others."

Cassian tenses. He could rage against those males. He could press her into sharing why she had ever touched them if she didn't like it. He could demand to know why she had been so stubborn and not come to him, why she had rejected him, when she obviously knew that she wasn't enjoying her company with anyone else.

But he only kisses the top of her head. "You're the most perfect person I've ever been with, too," he says, instead.

The word choice proves its benefits immediately. Nesta relaxes against him, tilting her head to kiss his shoulder. Putting them on equal footing, he's calmed her, erased her shame and guilt for the moment. She'll share when she's ready. He's given her proof of his patience, of his willingness to listen. For now, they'll just be together. He'll be waiting when she's ready.

"What's in the basket?" she asks.

He laughs. "I thought we'd have a midnight snack."

"Did you bring any towels?"

"No," he admits, breaking their embrace slightly to look at her raised eyebrow. "Sorry. I was rushed."

He helps her out of the water. She sits against on the floor as she had earlier, legs dangling in, only now, she is completely bare.

"I changed my mind," Cassian says, pushing himself out of the water and cupping her breast with his hand. "I'm not sorry at all."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't wave him away. "I'm cold."

"I have an excellent way to warm you up."

"I'll bet you do," she says, rolling her eyes again.

But he only reaches over for the picnic basket. "I brought tea. You read way too much smut."

Nesta blinks down at the thermos cap Cassian offers her. Then she laughs. Real, joyous laughter. Cassian almost drops the cup.

"What else did you bring?" she asks him as she accepts it, peering at the basket.

"Are you hungry?" he asks brightly. She's been eating better, but she still has a ways to go. "I have muffins." Lemon blueberry. The kind she had watched him eat once. He doesn't even know if she likes them. "And cheese. And fruit."

She gives him a smile. "Nearly perfect. Don't forget the towels next time."

Cassian's heart skips a beat. "It's not forgetting if you do it on purpose."

She laughs again. Really laughs.

Legs in the water, they sit there, eating their snacks and drinking tea, till the night turns dark enough that the fish scatter out of the grotto, into the sea.

"I'm worried," Nesta says suddenly, "that we'll go back to the House and this will--disappear."

Cassian thinks for a moment. Then he reaches over, picking up the three pearls he had taken out of the underwater walls. "We'll carry it with us," he promises. "We'll build it everywhere we go."

He drops them, one by one, in her hand. She stares at them long after her fist has closed around them.

"I trust you," she says softly.

"I trust you too," he answers, and that makes her look up, eyes shining in a way that is wholly different than the fire he loves so much.

"Really?" she asks, cracking his heart in two.

"Yes," he says firmly. Yes, he does trust her. Even though he knows she'll make more mistakes, that there'll be another time in the future where she pulls away, to hide herself, to hurt herself--he still trusts her. Even then, he will.

She opens her hand, studying the pearls. Not looking up, she says, "This beats my fake massage."

He laughs at the unexpected statement. "What do you mean?"

"I lied. I don't know anything about massages. I've never had one. Never given one."

"Really?" he asks, impressed. "Fooled me."

At this, she looks up, lips quirking. "It's the rage."

He smiles too. "I've never minded the rage." He leans in, placing one hand on her thigh, the other on her cheek. "I love the rage. It's only the pain we need to leave behind."

She nods, not slow or nervous. He kisses her again.

Hours later, he wakes. Nesta sleeps at his side. He smiles down at her, moving quietly out of the bed. She can join him for training if she likes, but she doesn't have to. He guesses she will, sometimes, but not every day, and not in the mornings.

There will be shouting matches over this later. No one can rest while Nesta sits trapped in her own misery, and everyone has their own way to pull her out. But the only way is hers, and if Cassian's the only person willing to realize that, then he will be the only one privileged to reap the benefits.

He won't be. Who can resist Nesta?

Not her sisters. Not Amren. Not Rhys, once he sees how everyone he loves loves her. Az is taken with her too, now, and even Mor can't seem to stay away, can she?

This space to feel joy is more important than acknowledging her pain. Nesta is not the type to acknowledge her pain. She'll simply burrow in it deeper, numbing herself to everything.

This is how they get her back. He knows it. He can feel it.

He grins to himself as he hears her walk up the stairs to the roof, just past sunrise.

He knew it.

Not healed overnight, but willing to try. To trust herself and him.

"Sleep well?" he asks her as she appears.

"I want to try punching," she responds. "I heard I'd be good at it."

He grins. "You will."

---

hope you enjoyed! if you did you are legally required to read my wattpad story. (not actually but it's fun and is updated on tuesdays and fridays.)

[herotheshiro]

ok i don’t like any of the photo posts in the tag to reblog w my thoughts, so i’ll just write my own post for painter of the night. following from my last post just now, i was wondering what manhwas recently i’ve been following and have some opinion on and i was like oh right this one. mainly i’m just screaming at nakyum every chapter now to just LEAVE AND NEVER GO BACK. YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN EITHER YOUR CRUSH OR SEUNGHO. YOU CAN LIVE OFF OF YOUR ART SOMEWHERE AND BE HAPPY AND INDEPENDENT.

i forgot why i started actively following this manhwa, i feel like i’ve been vaguely following since the 1st few chapters but really started paying attention around the time when seungho started taking a sexual interest in nakyum. prob bc the art is pretty nice and nakyum is cute, like some panels i’m like wow ok this is really well-drawn and nakyum looks nice. at this point in time i’m still betting they’re gonna pull the typical asshole-turns-nice-and-therefore-is-valid-love-interest-material for seungho and they already have another trope of the excuse ‘oh he’s been through some shit so that’s why he acts shitty’ but i do have to admit they’re not really following that trope to a T bc seungho seems to have some degree of remorse for raping nakyum (i mean... like you normally should but this isn’t following BL logic) and we’re getting a slow development of seungho actually developing some kind of feelings for nakyum other than lust. thankfully they’re still maintaining the asshole personality for him bc unrealistic for complete 180 change in personality so i’m interested to see how they develop him further. the other thing i’m not liking though is that they’re kind of making nakyum “fall” for seungho really through the bridge suspension effect (i have certain emotions when i have sex, i have sex with him, transference of those emotions) which i mean it happens but also ugh i hope seungho convinces nakyum to like him through better means which i mean they’re kind of starting w the whole family drama and nakyum not revealing everything to the teacher dude. (teacher dude is a whole other fucking story. god. absolute trash. i hate him for treating nakyum like this)

i think my most recent story detail appreciation was them revealing that nakyum was born in and grew up in a brothel. i haven’t really been reading translations (i’ve only been following through IG posts like usual lol) so idk if maybe i’m just missing details but i believe that’s the 1st time it’s been mentioned and gives reason i suppose to why nakyum knows how to draw sexual stuff apparently pretty well. i love ppl giving backstories to their characters’ behaviors/actions/knowledge and i hope nakyum further gets developed, which i mean will happen for sure bc i don’t think we really know much abt how nayum and teacher dude met/know each other. also i get the vibe they’re gonna pair up teacher dude and seungho’s younger bro which is killing me ... or they could pair up teacher dude and seungho’s side dude which would a pairing of ultimate assholes. anyway intrigued to see where this story goes and i hope nakyum gets some real love in the end !! i’m also glad nakyum kind of has one “ally” in that bearded servant who’s def aware that nakyum and seungho are fucking and takes care of nakyum sometimes afterwards bc y’all know our boy needs SOME support.

also as i was writing this, i realize it kind of reminds me of bj alex for whatever reason (prob bc i was reminded of that manhwa earlier) which i ABSOLUTELY hated but i think i like this one bc nakyum at least fights back a bit while dg (ider their names other than alex tbh lmao) ... didn’t. he just let alex step all over him and it absolutely killed me to read snippets of the scenes where he dumped alex and was literally fucking happier for it but yet he accepted that trash back into his life... i mean yeah alex had changed at that point but fuck off....

[falle-ness]

18, 19, and 30 :D

Thank you for the ask :D

18. It's SO hard to choose because I love all my children fics even if they're crooked and limping :D

#1

It's from Trust Fall. So, for those who don't know, here Ressler gets in real trouble, and it costs him both his job at the FBI and his health. He, as usually, puts himself on the line, protecting Red. And, as we all know, Red has a soft spot for Donald, so he can't leave that gesture without attention.

Basically, this scene is Red's answer to those who have hurt Ressler. And this is how he will deal with anyone who does it again.

It's Red's way to tell he cares for Donnie. Poetic cinema, isn't it?)

What I like here is that I was able to load it with meaning (TM).

Both of them are men of action, and both will never admit what they really feel, why they're so drawn together.

And this is Red's way to show that if it gets personal to him, he will go any lengths to protects those who are more than an asset to him.

#2

This one is from Gardez. I'm super proud of this work, and especially, the last chapter. I was able to break Ressler to such extent nothing was left from him.

This particular scene happens at the cemetery where Red's mother is buried. Ressler catches Red off guard, but we all know that Red can slip out of almost anything with the help of his tongue ;) He opens Ressler the truth about his black-and-white world. And that he and Ressler aren't so different as he wants to think.

Red appeals to Ressler's loss of a father, to that night when Ress lost him... And Ressler has nothing to say against it. Reddington was doing the emotional autopsy of sorts on Ressler, and the scalpel was sharp and accurate,just enough to tip the scales to Red's odds.

I'm really proud of the psychological domination I pulled off here.

19.

Most of the time I get a 404 error when writing Reddington. Man, I have to scramble all my vocabulary and look up stuff to show it through his lenses, and it should look, feel the way he'd say it, the way he'd admire it. And at times I really, really hate him for it :D

I also struggle writing women at times... I kinda get more close to understanding men than women which is odd, since I'm a woman myself :D

30.

Out of all ideas for resslington, I have this pre-canon idea where Red sends Ressler letters from different places they both met but Ressler never apprehended Red. Ofc, Red will elaborate on Ressler's effort in the letters :D Expect lots of juicy details (and Ressler's swearing) about Red chilling at bj bar in Thailand, hitting on women during Mardi Gras, hanging out in Barcelona and sailing a boat in the middle of nowhere.

[euphoricfilter]

I would never have guessed that you consider Smut as one of your weaker points, bc for me it was really good while I was reading it, means that once you are more confident about it, Babe you'll kill it.

YES blowjobs are better when you are reading them than seeing them, but for me it applies to majority of things in sex lol. The pegging HAHA sorry it's something I have seen its usual on pet play.

But after reading that I'm excited to see you experiment with those new themes you talk about. The request sounds interesting Lmao, take your time tho, wouldn't want you to stress because of it. Gonna be stalking your page until then.

Also the title is perfect haha <3

i’m gonna cry, thank you 😭

writing in itself is still relatively new for me so there are definitely areas i can improve on. i ‘started’ this blog at the end of january this year (i’d had it for a while i just never uploaded) with DTIK and i literally uploaded the first chapter like a week after i wrote it and that’s where it all started and my experience is like the last 10 months. i had written in the past when i was like 13-14 but it will never see the light of day, it was very much the unrealistic, mafia bangtan but i was convinced to write an empowered woman that didn’t need men, which they don’t, but my writing was so crusty i can’t read it now without giggling. i have 60 something drafts of wattpad 😭 of crusty old fics.

i think the first time i wrote smut was 4 months ago? maybe? it could be 5, i know i was still in china at the time because i remember i’d said i wanted to add smut to the last chapter of TBAH but then i was like yeah idk how to write this in part 9 and then an anon was like “i think it’s time they fucked” and i was like yeah you’re probably right. and i remember sitting there thinking what the hell am i supposed to say, this is kinda awkward and i was stupid and thought an ot7 fic would be a good place to start. writing smut for 8 people is so freaking hard so i had to split it up into subunits 😭 and then i started writing “smut” in DTIK but they haven’t actually had sex yet so it doesn’t really count and then helping hands came along + rope bunny and that basically all my experience so i’m happy i seem to be good at it 😭

my skin crawls when a bj post comes up on my twitter, i scroll past them so quick THE NOISE I ACTUALLY HATE IT 😭 it’s so much better when you read it 😭 i’ve read some out-there smut, and i think ‘wait that’s kinda hot’ and then i think logically in real life what that would be like and i want to cry because it would be foul

don’t be sorry about the pegging 😋, it’s actually not something i’ve thought about putting in a fic before but also it reminds me of that rumor that prince william is into pegging so i can’t take it seriously

IM SO CLOSE TO FINEIHINF THE REQUEST. i’ve edited to main part, and it’s like 50/50 it’ll come out tonight if i could just hurry up and write the sexy lil smut scene but also i have ptsd from wattpad smut so i always try to make sure it’s nothing like that and there’s a decent amount of detail to fuel the reader’s imagination 😋

i always think about, what if someone stalks my page because recently i went through a few of my old posts and it’s kinda crusty ngl, the other day someone liked a post i made months and months and months ago that literally only had the tag of the au so only people that followed me at the time could see it and i was like oh someone liked that but they would have had to have scrolled so far down, i don’t post a shit ton on here but they would have been so deep into my page i wanted to cry because i can’t remember half the stuff i post and there’s definitely some dark stuff crawling in the depths of this blog but that au was cute so i’m glad they liked it 😭

while we’re on the topic of my writing weaknesses, titles. i’m so shit at naming my fics it’s awful 😭 i changed “open” like 3 times before it became that name because i cant name my fics for shit it’s so bad 😭

[daydreamerspeaksout]

Day 4: My Days Off

Rewriting this because well.... let's just say that I have no clue what to write about right now. Lol This is my brain on my days off, it shuts down to relaxation mode so I can have a refreshed brain at work. Let me just say my job sort of requires a bit of brain power. It's like a game of tetris and sometimes it requires you trying to squeeze an object in a small space. Of course you gotta follow the rules of how to properly stow but I digress. My brain right now wishes it could be a the beach, smelling the salty air and feeling the sand between my toes. But of course, I don't like to do things alone, another problem I have with my days off. I don't like being alone unless I have too.

Being alone.... the one fear that I think almost every human beings on this planet has. I don't know why I am this way but I like doing errands or even just going to a store with someone because it makes it feel like an adventure. I guess you can say that I am not the typical adult and that I will always need someone to go with me to places unless of course I need to do things on my own. This job that I have, I took this leap on my own. I made this decision and went through the hiring and training process alone. I had to leave the old job because I knew that I would not be moved up or even changed from positions even though I was bouncing around thanks to the managers. If there is one thing I was very relieved about it was leaving the gas station behind....

THE GAS STATION AT BJ's Wholesale Club:

Here is a little story from the past when I was closing the gas station of about a month and I had to put my foot down. I was a person of many firsts at this job and this is one that I remember the most. I was working the usual day at the gas station. Dealing with the stupid customers that can't read the instructions on the pump on how to properly open the gas pump. Also dealing with people who didn't pay before putting gas or would just simply drive off and I would have to report it. Lastly being bored out of the my mind because I was alone in this small building and staring out at the back of a shopping center, watching people coming out of those businesses leaving to go home. That was my life working at the gas station and this was during a time when they had fired one person, and two others quit the job. Guess who was trained for it? Me. But did I know how to close it? Nope. Was I even asked if I wanted to work there while they were looking to hire people? NOPE!

On this particular night I had gotten my 1 hour break, and it was getting close to closing time so I had to do the routine. I had to go to every gas pump and take the trash out and pile it on a shopping cart. But this night before even starting it, I heard loud shouting or well a commotion. I thought, oh great two customers are fighting I may have to call the manager and ask what to do in this situation. I sort of opened the door because the shouting turned into a scream of desperation or a cry for help. I opened the door a tiny bit to see this massive guy standing over a middle aged man on the floor with his hands up, trying to cover his face from any potential punches. I quickly closed the door and I knew that the massive guy had left in a hurry because too many people saw this. So he fled the scene, the middle aged man told me to call the police but store policy says they (the victim) have to make call not us.

So I called the store because the gas station is separated from the store, I called inside and I told a manager about the situation. I was told to not open the door and that the security guard will come and stay with me until the cops come. I was only to open the door for the security guard. Naturally I was a little scared because I had never seen someone get assaulted and I didn't know if this massive beefy guy would show up again. Once the security guard came, he asked me what had happened, I told him that I was taking care of a customer at the window and we both hear this man first shouting at a guy and then next thing I knew he was pushed to the floor, crying for help. I had told the security guard that I did open the door for a tiny bit and saw the guy and immediately closed the door. The middle aged man went to the Pollo Tropical because he didn't have a phone, I think.

So he called the cops and they took awhile to show up to be honest. I was looking at the time and I was thinking there is no way I will finish on time tonight. The closing manager came out and they spoke to her and then to me about the situation. I just told them exactly what I did and I did describe the massive beefy dude as best as I can. I had to give them my phone number and once I was done with that I can do my job again. Let's just say I took the trash as quickly as possible and the closing manager ended up closing the computer for me. Here is the thing about that incident.

If you have a massive amount of money on you and leave it in the car, that fault falls on you. Never jump to conclusions and always call the cops about this type of robbery. I found out that Mr. Beefy left like 800 bucks in his truck and he was at the gym, working out and such. He comes out of the gym and saw his truck got broken into and the money was taken. I don't know what possessed this man to accuse someone who was just probably on a nightly walk through the gas station and accuse this poor man of stealing the money. But a normal person would just call the cops if their car got broken into. Not this guy though he was trying to be the detective and in the end assaulted an innocent person, like use your head man. I don't think they ever caught the guy and I don't know what happened to the middle age man, if he pressed the cops to find the guy or not.

I was never called to give more details if I remembered any, nothing like how it gets played out on a detective TV show. Lol. I hope that Mr. Beefy learned his lesson and not jump to conclusions like that because he could've seriously done some damage to the middle age man. I mean Mr. Beefy had some massive muscles on those arms, I am sure he can seriously knock someone out. Lol That was the first time I had to deal with something like that and one of the reasons why I hated being alone at the gas station.

I mean what would I do if the incident happened when the gas station was practically empty and I was outside taking out the trash from the pumps. Would I have to run? Pretend I didn't see anything? What if I was threatened? What if the beefy guy had a gun? So many things could've happened. I thought about that all the time when I would be scheduled to close there because you never truly know what will happen there and the area wasn't a crime filled area. BUT you never really truly know.

It's funny how I thought I didn't have anything to say but I decided to tell this story because it was significant for me and I never thought I would experience that. I'm sure at this new job I will probably not experience not much so I may not have really interesting stories. Plus I can't really give a lot of details of what goes on inside the warehouse, so we shall what I can say.

Any who let's wrap this up....

So What's The Big Idea?

[Time for a mid morning nap lol]

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Something Old and Something New - Chapter 4: Eat of This Bread and Drink of This Cup

“All right BJ. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Peg sets the plate of breakfast and mug of coffee on the table with deliberate care. And she's whispering – but that doesn't keep BJ's head from feeling like a freight train's running through it. He hasn't been this hungover in... well, a while, anyway.

All he can do in answer is groan pitifully.

“Not that I'm not sympathetic-” Peg says, with emphasis, though still at a whisper. BJ's head rings. “-but I'm going to need more of an answer than that.”

“Please, honey, can we talk about this later.” Like when he's alive.

Peg looks at him sharply, assessing whether her husband's being honest or not. He's weaseled his way out of conversations about this before, after all. But he just looks so pitiful right now.

“All right, dear. But we are talking about this.”

He groans in a way that must sound affirmative because Peg heads towards the living room. The sound of her heels on the linoleum crack like gunshots against the inside of BJ's skull and he lets his head fall into the cradle of his folded arms. He's in big fucking trouble and too hungover to think of a way to sweet talk himself out of it.

But he should at least make sure he's capable of human speech for this discussion. BJ shovels a forkfull of eggs into his mouth and even chewing hurts but he feels better after several cups of coffee and an aspirin. And a shower helps even more – the water hot enough he looks like a boiled lobster afterwards but he's able to look his reflection in the eye as he brushes his teeth.

BJ doesn't particularly like what he sees in the mirror, but at least he can stand to look.

Eventually, BJ can't put off going back downstairs another minute. He's clean and dressed and he's set his office back to rights.

That had been – that had been difficult.

He'd wrecked a few photographs, the frames twisted and splintered, the smiling faces of his family and the 4077 obscured behind spiderwebbing cracks. It makes him feel guilty, but it's fixable. BJ sweeps up the glass and rescues the pictures from the wreckage of the room to be put in new frames.

But there's nothing he can do about the pile of confetti he made out of some of Hawkeye's letters – the ones that mentioned Trapper most often, by the looks of what's missing from the box of envelopes. And that. That really fucks him up. To know that he was angry enough, drunk and out of control enough, to destroy something so precious.

He has few enough connections to Hawkeye - to what they meant to each other - to go around destroying them like that. But there's nothing he can do about it now except gather the pieces and throw them into the trash, paper falling like snow to gently cover the rest of the broken shambles of his office. That done, BJ really has no more excuses not to go downstairs to find Peg. To talk to her.

BJ thinks maybe his office could use another round of tidying up.

Peg is an immovable boulder. BJ won't be able to shift her or persuade her to put this off again or sneak past her. She will sit here as long as it takes for BJ to come to her, to apologize to her for last night, to tell her what, exactly, the fuck is going on with him right now. But that doesn't mean that Peg isn't an impatient boulder.

She crosses her legs, ankle demurely over ankle, and flicks to the next page in her Good Housekeeping. It's a quiz to see if you're a good housewife. They seem to put one in every issue – and always with the same questions. Is your floor clean enough to eat off of – despite the requisite dog and several young children? Do you look like you just spent the day at a spa – instead of spending the day cleaning and cooking and chasing after said dog and children? Do you do anything and everything for your husband – and have no expectations of him ever doing the same for you? Peg recrosses her ankles the other way and flips to the next article. Twenty gelatin dishes your family will Just Adore! – sponsored by Jell-O. Lovely.

She hopes BJ hurries it up a little.

When BJ quits stalling and actually gets up the courage to go downstairs and face Peg, she's sitting in the living room, reading a magazine. It's a normal enough scene – although the lack of children is strange. And then BJ realizes that he hadn't seen them last night either. Peg must have - must have kept them away from him.

All the air goes out of his lungs and BJ collapses next to her on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He wants to weep. The idea that he can't be trusted around his own children - who he loves more than anything in the world, except for Peg - is terrible, horrifying. And he had no idea how long she's been doing this. When BJ thinks back to other nights he's gotten a little too far into the bottle – what he can remember of those nights, anyway – the kids are conspicuously absent there as well. Sent to bed early – without a bedtime story, since BJ is usually the one to do that – or sent off to his parents' house. Carefully kept from having to see him like that. Like that, like that – dead drunk and so angry he starts breaking things is what he means.

BJ tries to tell himself it's not really that bad. That it doesn't happen often – and it's always provoked by something, anyway. Justified. And he would never hurt anyone – would never turn that anger on Peg or the kids, only on objects, things that can be replaced if broken. But that's not really true, either. He'd hit Hawkeye - punched him right in the face for no reason other than BJ'd been angry and Hawkeye had tried to keep him from making a mistake. And they'd never really talked about it afterwards. BJ hadn't really apologized, either – just helped Hawkeye rebuild the still – and permanently erase the last tangible part of Trapper left in Korea. Cuz it always comes back to that with him, doesn't it. Jesus fucking Christ.

Peg has continued to flip through her magazine during BJ's little crisis, but he can tell she's not really paying it much attention. Her eye's keep slipping from the glossy pages and onto BJ's face. Waiting for him to start explaining himself, to give her some sort of context for last night – and all the other nights he's been like this. And BJ still doesn't understand all of what he's feeling, all of what had made him so fucking angry last night – but at least he knows where to begin.

“I'm so sorry, Peggy,” he says into his knees, not able to look her in the eye, afraid of what he'll find there. “I know it doesn't make up for things, but I am so fucking sorry.”

Peg nods to herself. He's right, sorry doesn't fix anything. But BJ has cleaned up the damage he'd done and apologized. It's a step in the right direction – and useless guilt and self recrimination doesn't rope a steer.

She puts a steadying hand on BJ's shoulder. “Apology accepted, dear. But we are talking about whatever caused this little... outburst.” Because sorry or not, they can't keep going on like this.

BJ nods. “I've – this morning was sort of a slap in the face, Peg.” His face twists in anguish. “I don't ever want something like this to happen again – I can't let something like this happen again. So.”

BJ takes a breath, gathers the stray thoughts he's had, tries to bring them together into something that resembles coherency.

“So Trapper John McIntyre. I hate his guts and he was all over Hawkeye's letter. What they did together and what idea Trapper had for this stupid wedding. And Hawkeye talked the whole time about Trapper's kids like they were his or something – and how they were all going up to Maine to visit Hawkeye's dad. It just! Why does Trapper get to have that? Why does he get to live with Hawkeye, spend time with Hawkeye's family, be Hawkeye's family?”

Why does he get all that when BJ doesn't.

“Trapper's a third-rate surgeon and a cheater and a, a rake. Always tom-catting around with his stupid body and his stupid face and his stupid little smirk. Like he's some kind of fucking movie star or something. Some big man on campus. Where's Trapper's research position at a prestigious university if he's so damn good? That's right, he doesn't have one. All he has is some experience in trauma surgery and friends in high places. Hawkeye deserves better.”

“Like you?” Peg's sideways glance seems to ask.

“Yeah, like me,” BJ growls under his breath. And then at a volume Peg can hear, says, “But despite Trapper being average in probably every single way – and he's not half as funny as he thinks he is, either – Hawkeye's shacked up with him like they're fucking newlyweds. It's. They're keeping house together. And Hawkeye just – as soon as Trapper walked through the door, he just stopped talking to me. Started asking after Trapper's day and why he was late getting home – like some perfect little wife. I'm surprised he didn't run and get him his fucking slippers.”

“So you think Trapper's taking advantage of him – of his feelings for him? Is that what's bothering you about all this?” Peg asks.

Because Trapper sounds like a real heel, from BJ's telling. But she's not sure how much of that is reality and how much of it is BJ twisting and misinterpreting things due to his own dislike of the man. And she knows that BJ's feelings towards him are only part of this – that there's more to BJ's anger than just Trapper being a jerk and Hawkeye writing about him.

BJ sighs. “No, I don't think that.” And in all honesty, he doesn't really believe that Trapper's half so bad – either as a surgeon or as a friend. It's just. “Trapper was doing just as much of the domestic routine as Hawkeye was. He made us dinner, if you can believe that – a roast like you do for Sunday dinner. Or for company that you want to impress.”

And shit. BJ can see – without the haze of alcohol and anger and whatever the hell he'd been feeling when he saw Trapper and Hawkeye together like they'd been – that Trapper had been trying. Probably out of consideration for Hawkeye, but still. He'd tried. Asked BJ about his work, showed interest in BJ's achievements, made polite conversation with him when Hawkeye was all talked out.

Or too busy eating the food Trapper had made.

All the time BJ had known Hawkeye, he'd barely eaten anything at all. Even with their strange little dinner routine of Hawkeye smelling his food and then giving it to BJ, who'd then put it right back on Hawkeye's plate, most of it went untouched. And sure, Army food was terrible – worse than anything BJ'd ever tried to cook in his shitty apartment kitchen back in college. But it was edible, if you were hungry enough. And the thing about thirty plus hours at a stretch in the OR is that you get pretty hungry.

So BJ had figured that Hawkeye just didn't eat much. He was skinny enough for that to be believable. But there he'd been, eating seconds at dinner and stealing cake off Trapper's plate during dessert. Something Trapper reacted to with fond annoyance - like it was normal, like he'd always done it. And BJ had started to wonder if this is what Hawkeye had been like before, when Trapper'd been in Korea.

Back before BJ had showed up.

And that's not even getting into the way the two of them had been during breakfast. Dancing around one another in the kitchen. Like they were so familiar with one another that they didn't need words to navigate the space between their bodies. And they'd fed each other then too. Hawkeye pressing grapes into Trapper's waiting mouth. Trapper fixing Hawkeye coffee like he knew the way he took it by heart. It had been so intimate – more intimate than almost anything BJ can think of doing with anyone he wasn't married to.

“No, Trapper's in on the whole newlyweds thing, too. And the worst of it is is that Hawkeye's happy like that.” BJ pulls at his hair in frustration. “That sounds terrible. I. What I mean is, I just thought that we needed each other, back in Korea. That Hawkeye needed me just as much as I needed him. And I needed him so much, Peg – I clung to him. And I thought he was clinging to me, too. But it turns out that what he needs is fucking Trapper.” Or Trapper fucking him, a snide voice inside BJ's head pipes up. “And now I don't know where we stand with one another. If Hawkeye really liked me at all, or if I was just. Convenient. A replacement for the person he really wanted there.”

“I know that you, that you need to feel needed in a relationship, BJ,” Peg says gently.

She's starting to see a connection here, with the way BJ's talking about things, to how he'd been when he felt she didn't need him anymore. A connection that she's pretty sure he hasn't figured out yet. He always was a little obtuse.

“And dear, I think Hawkeye being happy probably has more to do with not being in Korea than anything else. He wasn't very happy in Korea with Trapper either, after all. And he might not need you quite the same way he did back then, but he reached out to you, BJ. He kept your friendship alive after the war, and I think that counts for something.”

BJ looks a lot less miserable at that. “You're right, Peg. Our friendship is too important to let something like being on opposite sides of the country get in the way of it. Or us having our own lives.” Even if Hawkeye's life inexplicably involved Trapper. “I guess I should take him up on the offer to stay over a few extra days, then.”

Peg takes his hand. “You don't need to make any kind of decision about anything right away. Maybe take a few days to figure out where you stand with things. It's been – it's been an emotional day.”

BJ isn't quite sure why she's counseling him to wait on writing back to Hawkeye, but he trusts her judgment, so he nods in agreement and squeezes her hand tightly. He's really really lucky to have someone like Peg in his life.

--

About a week later, the penny finally drops. BJ bolts upright in bed, going from just about to nod off to terribly, utterly awake.

“Oh my God,” BJ whispers in something that sounds a lot like horror. “Oh my God, I think I'm in love with him.”

There's no real mystery as to who he's talking about. Not with the way BJ sits there, practically stewing in – Peg doesn't know. Guilt maybe. Or shame. Like he's done something wrong, cheated on her somehow, by feeling things he didn't even realize he was feeling until just now.

Peg isn't particularly surprised, is the thing.

She'd spent the week thinking about all of this. This thing between Hawkeye and her husband. And Peg feels like this realization hasn't just been brewing since BJ got back. No, this all started well before then.

Peg feels like she ought to have known, ever since she'd gotten that first letter from BJ talking about how good a surgeon and how compassionate and how bright and fun and funny Hawkeye was. It was practically a love letter to Hawkeye Pierce. It was just neither of them had seen it til now.

Then there were all the other letters, talking about Hawkeye nearly constantly. Both in the funny stories and the more serious passages about terrible the war was - about how much BJ loved and missed Peg and Erin and couldn't wait to be back home – and how Hawkeye had done something to cheer him up in the meantime. He'd inhabited every stroke of BJ's pen. He'd become a constant companion to Peg during BJ's time in Korea.

She'd come to care for him a great deal, despite having never met him. She'd been glad that BJ had someone there for him – and that he could be there for. Because that thing of BJ's about needing to be needed, Hawkeye had brought that out of him in spades.

So many of the letters had had themes of: Hawkeye's feeling down, here's how I cheered him up. Frankly, it should have been obvious just from that. BJ's love for Hawkeye goes well beyond simply friendship.

And Peg thinks the feeling is mutual. After all, she had gotten that letter from Hawkeye saying that BJ was real cut up he was missing his anniversary and could she maybe send him something to cheer him up. Except that it wasn't just a letter or maybe a photograph or another smutty novel Hawkeye was asking for Peg to send. It was her he was asking her for – all the things she'd do with BJ on a normal anniversary with them both home in Mill Valley recorded and mailed to Korea.

Hawkeye had needled and prodded and tricked information out of BJ until he could recreate an entire day of his life. And not just any day – their wedding anniversary. And since Peg couldn't be there to celebrate with BJ, Hawkeye had done it for her. For BJ. If that doesn't spell love, she doesn't know what does.

It should bother her, the idea that another man loves her husband – and that her husband loves him back. And that Hawkeye knows parts of BJ that she can never know.

And it does, a little. The idea that Peg hadn't been able to be there for BJ in all of the ways he'd needed. That he'd had to find someone else a little closer to home to take care of him – and to be taken care of by him – in Korea. That BJ still harbors these feelings for Hawkeye even now that he's back home with her and the kids.

But BJ isn't about to leave her - not with the way he's clinging to her hand and looking at her like she's his only chance at deliverance. And all of Hawkeye's love for BJ had been expressed in gestures like that anniversary movie – things that brought them closer together, things that let BJ come home to her mostly whole.

Even if they end up talking about this, BJ and Hawkeye, it's not going to go change things between them. There's no guarantee that anything will come of it other than emotional honesty. After all, BJ seems quite certain that Hawkeye is in a committed relationship – for whatever value of committed he and Trapper are both capable of. Trapper hadn't been the only one with rather legendary prowess with the nurses, after all.

So the only question she has is, “What do you want to do about this, dear?”

What BJ wants to do is run and hide, to curl up in the safety of Peg's arms and never think about this again. What BJ wants to do is go find Hawkeye and bring him to Mill Valley and keep him here forever. But neither of those are exactly options, so he says, “I guess I want to talk to him. About all this.” He gestures vaguely at the space between them, the bedroom at large, maybe even all of Mill Valley. There's just so much – and BJ doesn't know what any of it means yet.

“Well then, I guess we'd better plan on staying in Boston a few extra days. Why don't you let Hawkeye know.”

--

Trapper gets woken up by the phone ringing in the middle of the night on a week when he's not supposed to be working nights. But sometimes, there's an emergency bad enough everyone gets called up, scheduling be damned. So he holds back on the stream of profanity he wants to let loose and picks up the receiver.

“This is John McIntyre.”

“Hi, Trapper.” And it's Aisling from down the way, not one of the emergency services operators, so that means he doesn't need to start getting dressed at least. “I got a BJ Hunnicutt calling for Hawkeye. All the way from California, if you can believe it.”

“Yeah, yeah, they're old war buddies. I'll go get Hawkeye. Tell BJ to learn how time zones work while he waits.”

Of course, Hawkeye's wide awake now and looking questioningly at Trapper, trying to figure out what's so important that he's getting a phone call from BJ at two in the morning. And Trapper could just pass over the phone, BJ probably wouldn't say anything about it – and Aisling, who's voice Hawkeye can hear clear from across the room, definitely wouldn't. But Trapper's apparently feeling a little huffy about being woken up for a non-emergency type situation – at least, Hawkeye hopes it's not an emergency type situation. Not much Hawkeye can do from Boston if it is. So that just means something terrible like death or. No, everything is fine. BJ just doesn't know what time it is in Boston. Or he's drunk and. No, that's not really better.

Hawkeye makes impatient grabby hands at the phone.

“Hey, BJ. What's going on? Is something wrong?”

Hawkeye sounds muddled and half-asleep through the phone and suddenly, this seems like a bad idea. Like BJ's jumped the gun. What time is it in Boston, anyway?

“Hey, Hawk. Nothing's wrong.”

BJ hopes not, at any rate. He'll have to wait to see Hawkeye in person to know for sure. That definitely isn't the kind of conversation you have over the phone when the operator – or Trapper – could be listening in.

“Look, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to say that I'm planning to come to Boston for the wedding and that Peg and I would love to stay for a few extra days. And that I'm sorry I've been kind of a jerk.”

Hawkeye's smile can be heard through the phone. “BJ, that's great news! I can't wait to see you both. Though maybe we could talk about this some time other than the middle of the night?”

Oops. Peg's listening in on the call and BJ can feel her silent laughter breathing against the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll write you a letter tomorrow. Sorry to call so late – I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“It's ok, BJ. But if that's everything, I'm going back to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Hawk,” BJ barely breathes into the receiver.

All of the air has gone out of his lungs, but out of relief this time, not fear. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, getting to hear Hawkeye's voice – even if only for a minute. Knowing that he's real and there, even all the way across the country, and that BJ will have a chance to talk – really talk – to him soon. It's a bigger relief than he could have imagined.

“You're a real smart lady, Mrs. Hunnicutt,” BJ says into Peg's bare shoulder.

She kisses his forehead. “Goodness knows, one of us has to be. Now you'd better get some sleep too. You can write Hawkeye and Charles in the morning.”

[doomedandstoned]

Discarded Self Cooks Up a Simmering Stew of Dread in Foreboding Debut LP

~By Billy Goate~

Album Art by Thahir M

Flooding forth with misery and hate comes the first album from Discarded Self... Created during a time of personal isolation, the album ranges from tales of the macabre to introspective trips into self-loathing and personal degradation that dredge up terrible memories of the past to drown in personal regret. There is no hope for the future here.

Thus speaks the introduction to this self-titled debut from DISCARDED SELF, the brainchild of one Jarret Beach. Nestled on the border of Alberta and Saskatchewan in the small city of Lloydminster, Jarret has been jamming on bass with Ashes of Yggdrasil and fronting Destroy My Brains on vocals and guitar since at least 2014. It was the pandemic that drove him inward and inspired him to write this harrowing opus -- an album that erupts with pitch black sentiment, exploring unhappiness, hardship, and distress through several different lenses.

"I Smell Pipes" sets the record in motion with devilish growls over a searing guitar lead. The song becomes increasingly emotional with dissonant harmonies. Whether intentional or not, the drums sound muted, giving it a dank, low-fi feel throughout. The emphasis seems solidly on the riffage, which is all fine by me, though some listeners may wish for a more spacious approach. For full effect, turn those speakers up high!

"Orbitoclast" follows next with a strumming opening and jarring amp feedback. When the vocals join, it's a sludge moshfest ala Iron Monkey and Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean. The guitar is clear, dark, and menacing, and it contrasts with the harsh singing effectively. There are burts of frenetic grinding, with fevered drumming from Joaden Paluck (Destroy My Brains, Wrought) joining Jarret's fire and brimstone riffing. The song ends with clip addressing depression and the danger of suicide, from some old training video in a rather clinical tone.

"Push The Knife" is the longest track of the album, opening with death-soaked drumming (this time with Brett Steward from Ashes of Yggdrasil on the skins) and solemn doom chords that become increasingly animated, finally spilling over in a torrent of blackened tremeloes. The instruments pause long enough for Jarret to proclaim, "I'm barely being held together...fuck this life." The lyrics contemplate the misery of one's existence and the utter despair of realizing: I could really end it all. Having been there, I can identify with practically every word of this song. Also, I'm picking up on a Buzzov*en vibe here, with Jarret's raspy, metallic vocals drawing us into the hardship of the subject quite well. It's as though the pain of depression has gradually worn away at his person, transforming him into this savage beast before us. The sonic mix on this track does a decent job of accommodating the swirling array of death, doom, and black metal styles without sounding too thin and distant.

"On The Unlevel" is another 10-minute monster, with death-obsessed lyrics (this time, it seems, from the perspective of the oppressor). It takes on the mess of politics and policing, though at times I had trouble distinguishing between rage against the system and actually taking revenge on one's enemies. In some sections, I'm reminded of Eyehategod and their propensity for simple, melodic guitar motifs. The drums are especially pronounced here, a collaboration with Daden Paluk (Destroy My Brains). About 7-minutes in, a solitary bass announces the fiery coda, which grinds down on the words "This is what you get, greedy piece of shit." There are some maniacal screams mingling in the backdrop that made me think of a human being who's finally snapped and will no longer be trodden over.

"I'm Weak" is my favorite of the record, beginning as it does with those grim downward steps, followed by irradiated crooning grungy milling. The song is about living with guilt, shame, anxiety, and self-loathing while in isolation. For many of us, nothing felt more like solitary confinement than those unending weeks in lockdown, which forced some to come face to face with what they hated most about themselves. "I'm not well, in my cell, in my tomb, crying for doom" Jarret sings. A headbanger for damned sure.

"Cultist of the Pentagram" wisely picks up the pace with a tonal shift from self-pity towards an imagined deity from some dark dimensions, perhaps Cacus of Roman Mythology ("I am your Caco god"), who was said to be the fire-breathing son of Vulcan -- and a giant at that (eventually taken down by Hercules). Regardless of the cultist's identity, it is a most interesting lyrical theme and I found myself easily pulled into the narrative. Musically, this pure sludgey, grindcore!

"Abused (e)Motionless" turns our attention to the victim of treachery, attempting to see the word through their eyes. An interesting mix of circular, grinding guitar and drums, with slow, doomy progressions, and venomous vocals (which remain omnipresent throughout).

Finally, we arrive at the conclusion of this stormy, angst-filled journey. "Dance Upon The Dead" established a gentle arpeggiated acoustic theme, which is frequently interrupted by a crashing guitar and drum combos, until vocals join in with their usual corrosive fashion. This time, we're dealing with a true doomer, full of mordant chords and deep, emphatic bass notes. Jaden is up once again for drumming duties and executes his role with taste and tact. The song develops with increasing variation and intensity as it goes along. I thought of Grief as I listened, a band that also traffics in fierce, hot-blooded, sludgey doom action.

No doubt, Discarded Self is an enormous work and may be taken in doses on first spin. It will mean even more to the suffering, as I can imagine it being quite a cathartic listen for those who feel trapped, maligned, and in dire straits. Overall, a welcome entry from a prolific and highly motivated artist who does an admirable job collaborating with his drumming compadres. I can only imagine the beast that Discarded Self will become when the Lockdown is lifted for good and public performances become a viable option in Canada and places beyond.

Give ear...

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

An Interview with Discarded Self

By Billy Goate

How would you describe the vocal approach to the songs on this record?

After recording the guitars and bass to a programmed click track, I soon realized the song arrangements had some real potential to be something aggressive and memorable so I went for my first run of lyrics on a song. I wrote the lyrics for the song "I'm Weak" before I even had any drums (which is something I almost never do) and I wanted to record them since I was really feeling the flow and ideas I had for delivery, but it was too late at night and everyone in my house was asleep. So I decided to do a little practice vocal run in a quiet voice. When I do metal vocals in a quiet voice for practicing and stuff, I use kind of an evil Satyricon-Dopethrone black metal kind of voice. It's easier on my throat than my normal hardcore Destroy My Brains full blast screaming, and it helps me lay down my ideas without any type of voice damage.

You collaborated with a number of drummers on this release. How did you work in tandem with them during the Great Lockdown of 2020 and what impact did it have on the final outcome of your tracks?

After I recorded my idea, I sent the track to the drummer of the track Rob, and he said he really dug it. I told him those weren't the real vocals and I would do the real ones in a day or two after I practiced them a bunch and got my delivery down. But when the time came to lay it all down, I had the practice voice stuck in my head and when I tried to lay down my normal vocals, it sounded weird because I was already used to the way the black metal style vocals sounded. So I decided to give what was once my quiet practicing voice a try, and record the full song in that style. It blew me away when I was all done, so I decided to change up my idea and use this vocal style for the whole album. I really like it.

Talk about the artwork. It's a tremendous piece! Really stands out.

After that it was time to go on the hunt for some artwork. Almost as soon as I started looking, an artist I follow, Thahir M, put up a piece called "Monster Hunt" and I immediately knew that was the artwork I needed to represent the project. A very powerful giant demon with dragons flying above almost like a World War II photograph with the fighter planes littering the sky. It took me about a second and a half to rapidly fire him an offer on the art before someone else snatched it. That is where the album art came from. I actually used this art as inspiration while I was recording almost all of the vocals on this album. As I recorded them I would stare at the image of the art and try to imagine I was a demon soldier in that army. I already had the lyrics memorized, so I didn't need to read them as I recorded them.

I'd venture to guess that a lot of us assume one-man bands are just wunderkinds, you know, born with all this multi-instrumental talent. Were there areas you found particularly challenging for you as you sought to bring your vision to life?

I am not a drummer. I suck real bad, and I probably won't ever practice enough to ever record anything so I needed some drummers. I had this idea of using all of the best metal drummers in my city, and it would kind of help bring the scene together a little bit. 3 of the drummers I wanted to get, I was already in bands with, so that was easy, and the last drummer was a guy with some serious skills and creative talent, plus he had his own drum recording setup.

I ended up getting all the guys I wanted on the project which were, Jadan of Destroy My Brains, Rob the drummer of Ashes of Yggdrasil, Brett the lead guitarist of Ashes of Yggdrasil (who also plays drums), and BJ from the band Dahlmers Realm. I couldn't really be more happy about it. So every time I would finish my guitars on a track I would send them off to the guys with a click, and let them stew on ideas. Slowly the ideas came in and we got them all recorded. I was really impressed with what the guys came up with and we worked and tweaked the ideas until they all felt perfect.

It sounds like a very meticulous process!

Almost every time I got the final drums and guitars all together I would stay up for days with almost no sleep writing lyrics furiously, and perfecting my delivery for the songs. The last song Dance Upon the Dead, I actually stayed awake for about 30hrs, writing and recording. I even blew my voice out real bad, but I have a real stupid and bad habit of fighting through it and I finished the song with a pretty buggered up voice. (it just adds to the torment).

What's the benefit to writing metal as an independent musician-composer, compared with being in a band?

The best part of this project was I did it all in my studio at home, and I didn't have to change any of my mixing ideas because other band members did not like it (not that that is a bad thing having extra input or anything). So this album turned out 100% how I wanted it to sound. I went with a less is more approach, and didn't really do a lot of processing on the instruments to get the sounds I ended up with.

You initially were sharing songs as you created them. What kind of response did you get from your tracks early on?

As I completed songs, I would release them on Bandcamp and YouTube, and I set a goal to have one completed every two weeks until the release date I set, which was Jan 15th, I believe. The day I released "Orbitoclast," is where everything changed and I started receiving a ton of positive feedback. "Orbitoclast" was only the second song released, so I was really getting excited to pump this project out.

I was only about two or three weeks away from my release date when I was contacted by Piers Andersen from Cvlt Legion, and he said he is starting a record label called Sarcophagus Recordings and he asked if I wanted to be his first band. I didn't even need to think about it, because I knew he was a part of Cvlt Legion and those guys promote bands at a ridiculous rate, so I went for it. He wasted no time and he had me pull all my material down from Bandcamp and YouTube, so he could properly promote the album. We changed the date to April 30th, and he went to work promoting the album. He is good, he's had me on more sites and pages than I even knew existed, and we've even done a pile of interviews which I enjoy doing.

What did you learn from diving headfirst into such an ambitious first record?

All and all, this project taught me a lot, and I do believe I have further evolved my songwriting and recording techniques for the better, so it was a real good experience, and I've also learned more about the promotional side of music which is really important if you want anyone to hear your stuff. I hope everyone enjoys this album, and you can expect to hear another album from this project in the future as I'm already at six rhythm sections written for another album.

Let's close by getting into the specific breakdown of the album's songs.

1. I Smell Pipes

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The opening track of the album is actually written about a close friend I used to have when I was younger. It is describing a short chapter of his life, which in turn was the end of his life. He was a good friend but became a fiending drug addict "I Smell Pipes" was actually a quote he used to say when he would arrive at a party, and it signaled for all of the other crackhead/jib users to go into a room a light up rock and crystal all night. What started off as what he called fun recreational drug use, turned into full on lying, cheating, stealing, robbing, rock bottom living on the streets drug use. He passed away with a needle in his arm banging speedballs.

I wrote the song with more fun style riffs, because that was the last thing I remember about him before he disappeared and wound up succumbing to his chemical addictions. He used to be a fun guy. Hard drugs are no joke, there are only two ways it will go for you, if you want to live that kind of life. The lucky ones go to jail and sober up. The unlucky ones die, or live a long time as a worthless drug fiend. If you are having trouble with addictions, talk to someone and seek help. The alternative is more than most likely going to be a coffin. I wrote this song with a heavy heart, and it was really hard to record the lyrics.

2. Orbitoclast

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The song "Orbitoclast" is a collection of riffs and vocal ideas I actually started this project with. It starts off slow, but gets straight down to it with a thrashy section that has shredding vocals bleeding all over it. For those that aren’t aware, an orbitoclast is the instrument that is hammered into a person’s brain, when they were the poor individual who received a lobotomy in the late '40s early '50s. The song is of course about the horrifying practice of lobotomy, but has an extra hidden meaning. It’s a metaphor for giving your trust to someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind, and only their own personal interest, with no concern of who they damage along the way.

3. Push The Knife

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

"Push The Knife" is a slow moving look into the mind of someone who is sick with depression and touches on the topics of suicide/blood sacrifice. How it feels like you don’t want to exist in society, and you want to disappear and be forgotten. The song was originally titled "Staple", and is essentially about barely holding your life together like a “bent staple with one arm” as the lyrics suggest. The song takes a horrible turn as the protagonist of the story performs a blood sacrifice of themselves in an attempt to become a demon, and seek revenge upon the whole world who has wronged them throughout their life, joining Satan's and executing revenge upon the world. This song features Ashes Of Yggdrasil’s lead guitarist Brett on the drums, and backup vocals as well.

4. On The Unlevel

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

This song is my hate-fueled message to the government and other forces of oppression and control. I wrote this whole album in 2020, and being the naturally rebellious person that I am, the government control, restrictions, and lockdowns are not anything I ever pictured happening in my life and the damage they have caused to our society is mindblowing. If you feel the same as me, I strongly suggest looking up the lyrics to this song to understand the anger seething from within me when I was writing this. "On The Unlevel" is an attack against oppression, control, racism, division, and lies. Things can’t continue like this, and everyone needs to work together to repair all of the damage, and seriously think about the crucial changes that need to be made in our world if we are ever going to see it the same way it was, or better than it was. This is a true rebellion song of 2020.

5. I’m Weak

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

"I’m Weak" is an ode to all those who are born into this world as a person with crippling disabilities, mental health problems, or sub-par lesser functioning beings, that are unable to accomplish anything in life, and the feelings that are often associated with that, which are often followed by self doubt, self loathing, low personal esteem, drug abuse and suicide. "I’m Weak" is a tribute to a close friend who lived with all of the above named issues, and is no longer a part of this plane of existence. They will remain unnamed. This song embodies what the band name Discarded Self is all about.

6. Cultist Of The Pentagram

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

The track "Cultist Of The Pentagram" is about those who follow the rebel and master Satan, and their efforts to complete Satan’s work, in destroying God and his followers. This song is a complete assault on the world’s organized religions, and their slaughters and atrocities committed against their fellow men, women and children of earth, in the name of their so-called God. The true liar and evil presence that plagues our realm we exist in.

7. Abused (e)Motionless

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

This song was another personal and painful song to write. It is about the many forms of abuse from a loved or trusted person. The damage and trauma caused is generally irreversible, unforgettable, and leads to all sorts of problems throughout the person who was abused. It is a deep look into the person’s mind, and how fucked up they can become from it. If you or someone you know is being abused, be brave and get out of that situation. Reach out, someone will be there to help.

8. Dance Upon The Dead

Discarded Self by Discarded Self

I’ve been watching a lot of serial killer movies for I don’t know, the last 25 years. (laughs) I used those types of films for the inspiration of this song. This song was written from the perspective of a husband or father of a victim of a serial killer. It is clearly a revenge song, and describes the hate and rage that would be felt by the families of the victims. It’s a disgusting dive into that reality, and ends in a way that quenches the thirst of pure revenge.

9. Upside Down (Fistula cover)

Upside Down (Fistula cover) by Discorded Self

I wanted to pay tribute to a band I love and admire, so I recorded a cover of Fistula’s song "Upside Down." Almost every single time I’m hanging with friends I always make them listen to Fistula. Almost everyone I know now knows about them, so that’s really awesome. That also must mean I drink a lot! (laughs) The original song "Upside Down" is a real simple one, so I wanted to really spice it up and added a few things, yet kept it the same, and my drummer Jadan, who is also a big Fistula fan, does a two and half minute drum solo at the end of the track. If you are reading this, and you haven’t heard of Fistula. Do yourself a favour and just turn my Discarded Self album off and check them out. You are going to get simply destroyed!

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